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14 I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. THE BUSINESS WAS GOING ALONG WELL enough, but we also had problems. Bankers were becoming impatient and critical because of the disappointing performance of our investments. I didn't know how to respond when they called me. Unrelenting fear-of everything and everyone-flooded my mind. I'd come to the office, close my door, and sit, unable to talk myself into answering phone calls, unable to study reports, unable to make decisions, unable to talk, unable to think. One of my bankers screamed at me every time he called. He said he was going to sue me. lowed millions of dollars and money had dried up, and he was threatening to take every asset I owned. He had it in for me. He told me I had committed fraud. I didn't understand why he would say such a thing, but I believed him and I thought I was going to wind up in jail. My lawyer said that the banker had no grounds for his accusations, but reason did not soothe me. Wherever I went or whatever I did, I felt guilty, my senses converging into one lasting intractable state: terrified paralysis. I pleaded with Bo to come up from Key West to spend the summer with me. He came, but despite his presence and affection, I was no happier. I began to fear he would lose interest in me. I planned an emotional resurrection, a vacation in Bermuda. On the plane he slept and I, unrested, had the sensation of hurrying, hurrying to reach escape velocity. Soon after we checked into our hotel, we found a small cove nearby. A hundred yards away from us a constellation of boys danced on a promontory high above water, launching themselves one by one into the surf. Forty feet below them, huge waves crashed against the cliff, flinging spray madly in all directions. A boy bolted through the sky like midnight and pierced the clouds, screaming. Copyrighted Material 90 With hardly a word to me, Bo clambered up the rocks. The boys gathered excitedly around him. Under the bright sun their silhouettes startled me. They were an army and Bo, the tallest, marched to the ledge. I heard the boys' voices cry in unison: "Go!" Bo leapt, his arms playing the air. He dropped feet first into the water. He disappeared under the surface, then burst through, flinging water out of his hair. He swam ashore and ran to me, wet and panting. "Come on, it's fun!" he said with big, exhilarated eyes. "I don't know. You do it," I said. "Come on, Walt." "No," I said, feeling afraid. "You go again. I'll watch." "Oh, come on," he said, half complaining. He turned around and ran back to the cliff. Anger singed my body. We hadn't been there an hour and Bo was already running off and leaving me alone. Don't be crazy, I told myself. Let Bo play. I told myself I should go off the cliff, but a voice gripped me. No, it said bitterly. You'll hate it. You can't do it. The cliff loomed, dark and archetypal against the sky. The boys-I couldn't see their faces-seemed happy to have Bo with them. He was so much taller next to their squirming figures. In a poetic movement a small boy reached out as if he wanted Bo to pick him up and throw him into the sea. The voice urged me to cry. I couldn't apprehend anything except my terror that the other tourists could see my agony. Someone would see me, I was certain, and ask me what was wrong. There's nothing to be afraid of here, I told myself. I concentrated, trying to make my face relax, struggling to smile, but it felt like a wince. Bo, having plunged once more into the sea, came over. "What's wrong?" "I don't know," I said, paralyzed. "You need to swim," he said with unusual affection. "I know," I said, fighting tears. "Maybe I'm just tired." "You'll feel better," he said. "You need to relax. We're here." I waded into the surf, deliberately testing each inch of water until I was in up to my waist, and then I sank, held my breath, and settled on the bottom. Now I felt safe. Fighting off a yearning to sleep, I swam under water, gliding over...
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