All of my grandma's family was gone, but Mom still wanted to visit Leigh-on-Sea. I remember, as a 15-year-old girl, thinking that this would be the worst possible thing for my mom, to go and try to rediscover her lost youth, or worse, to feel like everything she had ever loved was gone.

But it turned out quite the opposite way, actually. England was the medicine my mother had needed for a long time. It seemed to awaken a new light in her.

In fact, it was seemed the perfect medicine for all of us. I loved it because I got to swim every day or just sit under the sun umbrella and read. I couldn't very well get a tan because the only colors my skin had ever known were white and red. I was so pale that I had to re-apply sunscreen every two hours, even in our North Dakota hometown of Grand Forks, but especially by the ocean.

My favorite part about that trip was being able to take sailing lessons. I didn't care much about sailing, to be honest, but I convinced the instructor to let me swim off the side of the boat. It was the best swimming experience of my life, being out in the open water, feeling like I wasn't constricted by anything or anyone. I felt like I could swim the entire English Channel if he would allow me to.

I was only able to do that three times, and then my mom found out. She was furious, so she canceled my lessons, which in turn made me furious. My mom was definitely back, which was a good thing in general. But I didn't like it. I became overly rebellious in my heart and I was tempted to defy her at every turn. She hadn't been around to mother me, so I was rejecting her as my mother. (I figured that out on my own, without the help of a therapist.) I remember going shopping with my mom and she bought me this ridiculous floppy hat and tried forcing me to wear it "to protect my delicate skin." I hated it, but I wore it when she was around. Sometimes. Even though I felt overly annoyed at my mom's rediscovered sense of responsibility, I wanted to keep the trip as peaceful as I could for her. It was the first time in years that she seemed happy. So I rebelled in quiet little ways, like defiantly removing the sun hat when she wasn't looking, or swimming as far out to sea whenever I possibly could.

I loved England, and even though Leigh-on-Sea wasn't exactly the French Riviera, it was the perfect vacation for our family.

Oddly, though, I felt like something was missing when we left. I had a sense that I had left a part of me behind. I checked all my bags and souvenirs about ten times after we got home, just to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, but it wasn't anything tangible. I eventually decided that I had loved England so much, I must have left a bit of my heart there.

Without even knowing it, I had left a bit of my heart with you.

Looking back at all of the things that didn't add up, they now all make sense perfectly.

Like, why did that catamaran from a neighboring hotel follow us whenever I went out for sailing lessons? At first, I thought maybe it was another sailing instructor, going out at the same time we did. But we went out at different times from one day to the next. It would be very strange for the other instructor to have a student at the same time, every single time we went out. I noticed it, but I didn't dwell on it. It only made sense when I found out it was you.

It took me a long time to shake the funk I felt after we came back from England. I kept telling myself that I would go back to England some day. I assumed that's what was making me feel so blue – my love and my longing for that little town on the sea.

Luckily, I had swimming to distract me during my sophomore year. That season was probably the most intense I ever experienced in my four years of competitive swimming. We went to the state finals that year and took second place. When the season ended, I started remembering England again, craving an opportunity to return and claim a bit of my lost heart.

Strangely, though, I finally let go of that sadness when summer came. I attributed it to the sunshine, but now that I know what you did, I realize that it's because you came to find me. I didn't ask you to. I didn't want you to. But you followed me and you found me.

And somehow I knew you were there.

I started lifeguarding at the Tanner Park pool that year. It was time for me to start saving for college, too, and what better way to do it than working in a place that I loved?

Grand Forks isn't exactly a huge city, but it's a big enough town that I didn't know everyone. That must served you well. You were able to blend in enough that I never really noticed you. No one knew you were an outsider.

It wasn't until swim season started during my junior year that I began to suspect that I was being watched. Coach Freeman added yoga to our swim practices, so they lasted longer than usual. I walked home in the dark after practice most nights. There were several times that I suspected someone was following me. I would hear footsteps and turn around, but no one was there. I kept telling myself that it was the rustling of leaves or the sound of heavy snowfall or the raging wind that sometimes swept across Grand Forks.

I recall one particularly grueling practice that year. We did hot yoga first, and then pull drills and speed drills, then more pull drills, and finally parachutes. That's when we had to swim against the weight of a parachute in the water. Not full-sized parachutes, mind you, but they still weighed us down. I actually think Coach Freeman was trying to weed out anyone on our team who wasn't serious about swimming. And it worked – about three girls quit after that practice.

After that exhausting practice, I was walking home and my legs were weak and wobbly. I stopped in the library on the way, just to rest for a moment and to get a drink from the fountain. I must have been extra quiet because of my fatigued state because I crashed right into someone as I walked out the door. I think it was you.

Actually, I know it was you.

I mumbled, "I'm sorry," and I felt your strong hands on my elbows.

You simply said, "All right, luv?"

I remember your voice. Your accent. And your eyes.

I stuttered, "I...I'm fine." I pulled away awkwardly and rushed home. It never occurred to me that you were the one I felt watching me.

Later in the season, however, my suspicion that someone was following me intensified. I asked my brother what he thought and he immediately looked concerned. He insisted on picking me up from swim practice from then on, but I told him to come and walk me home instead. Maybe he could hear what I was hearing or sense what I was sensing.

He walked with me for two weeks. I still felt your presence, but he didn't. Stealth was your strength, apparently. After walking me home for those few weeks, Nolan still picked me up for a while after that. But then I started walking home by myself again after the holidays.

I still felt you. I talked to Nolan about it again, so he suggested we go to the police. They told us that they couldn't investigate if there was no actual contact. I guess it did sound pretty bizarre to say it out loud. "I think someone is following me, but I've never seen them" sounded a lot more paranoid than it had in my head. I finally just decided to drop it.

I saw you again, though. Maybe you felt more safe revealing yourself to me when I wasn't in my hometown. Uncle Brandon, Nolan and I had always loved the outdoors. We went camping and hiking whenever we could. Living so close to Canada afforded us access to many primitive places where we could explore our passion. Mom hated camping and hiking, so she never came with us, even when she was doing better.

The summer before my senior year in high school, the three of us went camping up near Winnipeg. It was kind of a rustic campground, but it was our favorite. We loved it because it was so secluded.

One afternoon, I decided to swim by myself. I swam far out into the lake and just floated on my back for a while. As I made my way back to shore, I had that eerie feeling again, that sense that I was being watched. When I crawled up the steep little ledge from which I had gone out, you were standing there. You held your hand out to me.

"All right, love?" You said.

I gasped, recognizing your accent and your words. And your eyes.

I began to tremble and fearfully asked, "Who are you? And how do you know me?"

You didn't answer. You just walked away. I wanted to chase you, but I was pretty tired from my long swim. But I couldn't help but wonder if you were really the one who had been following me all this time.

I told Nolan and Uncle Brandon about you and they were somewhat concerned, but not nearly as alarmed as I was. I convinced them to scour the campground with me, looking for you. All the other campers must have thought we were insane, asking at each site if there was a man with a British accent staying there. We never found you. I suppose that made sense, because you must have taken off again, not wanting to be caught.

When we returned home, I asked Uncle Brandon if I could start seeing my therapist again. He agreed, knowing I was frustrated about my lingering paranoia. I couldn't shake it, but I was starting to think that maybe it was all in my head. I found it very helpful to talk to her on a regular basis, and I was able to dismiss those suspicions after a while. But the real reason I was able to dismiss them so easily was that you weren't there for most of my senior year.

But on my 18th birthday, I received a bouquet of 18 roses. The card simply was simply signed, "With love." When I questioned my mom, Uncle Brandon, Nolan and all of my friends, no one would admit to sending the roses. I panicked as I considered the possibility that my watcher was back. I decided to try one last person before reaching the conclusion that I was actually being stalked.

I called my dad.

I hadn't talked to him in years. But I still knew where he lived and I had his cell number. I hoped it hadn't changed. I dialed the number nervously and waited.

I knew his voice as soon as he answered.

"Dad?" I said shakily.

"River?" He asked. "Is that you?!"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me. Um, it's my birthday, and-"

He cut me off, apologizing profusely for forgetting my birthday and insisting that he was planning to send me something.

Bullshit.

I interrupted him and said sharply, "Dad, that's not why I called. I just wanted to know if you sent me roses, but I guess it wasn't you."

"Was I supposed to send you roses?" He asked quietly.

Well it's only my 18th birthday, Dad. You could have sent something.

"No, Dad, that's not it. I just...It's well...I think someone has been following me and I got these roses for my birthday and no one will admit to sending them."

"Oh, honey. Are you okay? Are you in any danger?" He suddenly sounded very sincere and very worried. He was a good actor, because I didn't believe it for a minute. He had left all those years ago and never looked back. He didn't care that mom ended up in a mental hospital or that Uncle Brandon and Nolan had to work their asses off to take care of our crumbling family.

"No, Dad, I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be fine." And I hung up.

I ended my senior year always looking over my shoulder, always expecting you to come out of the shadows and own up to your stalking behavior. You never did, but I knew you were there. I could feel you watching me. You watched me when I went to my senior prom with Isaiah Caspar. You watched me receive my diploma.

I worked close to 80 hours a week that summer, lifeguarding at the Tanner Park pool and the YMCA, doing exactly what Nolan had done before he started college – saving up money. It was a good distraction for me because I didn't have time to think about being watched. And by then, I figured that, if someone were really watching and wanted to hurt me, they would have done it by now. And I knew I was strong and fast and fit from swimming. I decided once and for all to stop worrying.

College started without much incident. I planned to stay home and go to the community college for a year or two, since it was much cheaper than a university. Most of my friends went away to school, though, which was hard for me.

As Thanksgiving drew near that fall, I planned a ski trip with my friends over the long weekend. It would be fun for us to get together again and it would be a good break for me, since college was much more difficult than I had expected it to be.

Little did I know, that weekend would be when I finally discovered that my watcher was real.

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Side photo credit: Elle Fanning by Teen Vogue magazine. She is my inspiration for River.