After the experience of my new stepfather trying to drown me on their honeymoon of all places, I was told that to make it up to me I would be going on a walk of my own with my stepfather the next morning. Great, I thought.
I was becoming versed in the art of sarcasm which never really had a place in my vocabulary before the age of four.
The walk up to the gate or entryway to that little Inn at the base of Mount Fuji was nice enough. I did not want to go walk through the clouds again. I was too afraid of being left behind for good this time.
He talked to me about an imagined scenario.
We stood near the opening to the short drive up to the Inn. Near the decorative "fence" there was a small decorative freshwater pond.

We talked about swimming. He told me that another way to teach me to swim without the inflatable ring I was used to, was he could take me out on a little boat and throw me into the water.
I...