Jade

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  Another tipping point.

  The corners of my mouth fell to a frown at the thought, and I raised the bottle toward my mouth. “I need… a break.” My lower lip trembled as I tilted it upward, feeling the cool liquor flood my mouth and throat. After three long swallows, I came up for air, already thirsty for more. It went down far too easily, the slight ethanol finish overwhelmed by the sweet aftertaste.

  My lungs fought to pace themselves, and my cheeks were tight from crying. I found myself hugging the bottle to my chest while leaning back against the seat to watch the waves crash in the distance. Occasionally, I eyed the time. The digital clock on the dashboard crept forward but being late didn’t matter. Not anymore. With each passing minute, I paid deliberate attention to my body’s reaction to the medicating, liquid courage as it took effect on my empty stomach and long-time sobered liver.

  The warmth and numbness hit first.

  My worries tapered next.

  And then my legs tingled.

  But the one feeling I’d hoped for didn’t transpire— happiness.

  That’s when reality splashed me in the face like a stiff drink. I couldn’t go back… to so many facets of my life.

  With my new friend in tow, I got out of the Jeep. The bottle slipped from my grip, and I barely recovered it before tragedy struck. The cap rolled away, but vodka spilled over my bare arm and dribbled down to my fingertips. For a second, I contemplated licking it off while frowning at the waste. “Freaking party foul.”

  A gust of wind hit me from behind, the tall blades of seagrass rustling loudly. I shivered and wished I’d brought a sweatshirt. Too late for that, but another drink will warm me right up! I lifted the bottle to my mouth twice more before heading toward the cluster of picnic shelters at the end of the grit-coated sidewalk. When I arrived, they were vacant. Weird. Without digging out the itinerary, and with an unsteady frame, I remembered Annelies’s perfect penmanship dictating to meet there.

  Farther down the beach and off the main path, I saw a spot of bright orange with a smoky smear trailing above. I squinted into the distance and recalled what Bo said earlier.

  “I overheard her talking about how she had to move the bonfire farther down the beach.”

  Walking through sand was harder than I’d remembered. One stumble here. An ankle roll there. I tripped over my feet more times than I cared to admit and silently blamed the flip-flops. When I was fifteen yards away from everyone, I stopped. Looking like an idiot didn’t matter. My chest heaved as I watched my future step-Anal Eyes. My half-Anal Eyes. My half-step Anal Eyes? “None of those are gonna work,” I whined and trudged on.

  More people showed up than I’d expected as I scoured the swarm of fifty. Maybe sixty. A few stragglers made their way down the beach to join the crowd, all carrying bottles or boxes of booze. Some of the party-goers were familiar, some of them weren’t. A couple I recognized from Steele Falls glanced my way, which made me want to dig a hole in the sand and bury myself. But I didn’t. Vodka gave me courage. I saw Sienna talking to someone while making gestures at the sky. Lissy and a few of her friends danced next to a boombox. Eli told a story to a grouping of men, all of them laughing simultaneously when he paused for their reaction. I didn’t slow down. It wasn’t my intention to ditch, but my feet kept going. I’d pegged every member of the wedding party… minus one person. That absence crushed me with debilitating guilt.

  Eli noticed me and jogged to catch up. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Fine.” I sustained my pace and remembered the dried mascara that’d give away my lie.

  “You don’t look fine,” he said.

  I fought to enunciate clearly and didn’t break my gaze with the ocean, “Well, I am.”

  He eyed the bottle when I took a drink. “Are you hammered?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Would you wait a second?” He jumped in front of me. “You’re not coming to the bonfire?”

  I stopped and cocked my head to the side. Round two in his barricading tactics felt like a kick to both shins. Memories of round one from outside The Salty Seaman still punched me hard in the jaw. When I looked into his blue eyes, I bit my tongue from asking what I wanted. Did you know I was your fiancée’s sister when you hit on me? “Move.”

  “Hear me out. I thought we could still hang,” Eli said. “You know… that last hurrah?” He winked and his voice melded between a rumble and a whisper, “You are so fucking hot on that video.”

  The latest blow? A sucker punch to the stomach that knocked the wind out of me.

  “You act like you’re no dirty bitch, but I know the truth,” Eli murmured.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He flashed me a smile. “You’ll see.”

  Humiliation spread like chaotic flames licking through my veins. He knew. I couldn’t believe it. He knew! With all of the other messes happening at the bar, I didn’t put it together back then. I’m not sure where it came from, but I shoved him with a hand, a fistful of Valiant, and a growl. Hard. Another spill of alcohol wasted. Eli landed on his ass in the sand, speechless. He made me sick, and I refused to unravel, not in front of everyone.

  “Stay away from me.”

  I couldn’t focus on the past anymore, and I wanted to let go of the hatred flowing through my chest that weighed me down. But how? Moving forward seemed impossible without drowning. My toes dragged through the cool grains of sand again, the waves calling out to me. I was tired, so tired of holding back most of my tears and pretending to be okay. Away from the cove, I didn’t have my house to protect me or a dark room to hide in. Brady’s cheesecake wasn’t in sight either. Thinking back, none of those felt consoling anymore, and I felt more defenseless than ever. I stared at the glass bottle with regret. All I had was cheap vodka and a broken promise to myself.

  Where dry and wet sand clashed with strings of dark seaweed dividing the two, I ditched my sandals, dropped my tote bag, and set my bottle down. Damp granules molded to my feet as I neared the water. The laughter, music, and bonfire went temporarily forgotten while the ocean churned. My eyes brimmed and my lower lip quivered. I wanted to fall forward into the surf, to feel that achingly frigid pain I used for medication. Even though I knew better, I didn’t listen to common-sense telling me those waves were more hazardous than the ones in the cove. All I heard was a constant rushing of wind and water, punctuated by breakers hitting the beach. That was enough for me.

  Liquid coolness swilled around my ankles— home. It would listen. A wave quickly surged up over my calves and rushed past, the ocean warning me to go back toward shore. It wouldn’t judge. I lost my footing but caught myself. It would soothe. The sea knew what I was about to do. It would make everything better. My persistence won, and I took another shaky step forward. Wouldn’t it? Icy cold bit my thighs, shocking me with each inch of dry flesh it covered.

  I reached my arms out on either side and looked up at the night sky, breathing in the salty air, allowing gravity to tip me forward when I pushed up off my heels. The ache. The burn. The expectation. It all equated to my need. But the sensation I craved didn’t come because a loud voice interrupted and caused me to stagger.

  “Don’t.”

  I whipped my head around and saw Seth standing less than ten feet away in the water, fully-clothed with his arms crossed. The level of intensity paired between his face and his voice scared me, so I turned back to the raging ocean.

  “Don’t what?” I sounded beaten down, even to me.

  “Do what you’re about to do.”

  “And what am I about to do?”

  “Making me save your ass, if I have to,” he yelled over the roar of the wind.

  I went a half-step deeper, and the water’s surface hit my hips. “Yeah. Well, I didn’t ask to be saved.”

  “I said, ‘don’t.’” The last syllable was autho
ritative and curt as we engaged in our second game of Chicken that day.

  His demand pissed me off, so I dared to execute another move. The water greeted my navel. Next, I turned to face both him and the shore with a determined smirk on my face, stretching my arms wide again.

  “Jade!” he yelled with wide eyes.

  Don’t tell me what to do. I pushed up onto my toes and barely leaned forward when a huge, unexpected wave rolled and crashed into me from behind. It struck me down flat— with no air.

  Underwater, I couldn’t find up. Reorienting myself in the darkness with empty lungs that begged for oxygen left me swiping and kicking at surrounding nothingness in terror. All I found was a muffled, sloshing sound in every direction. Each painstaking second felt like thirty while the ocean tried to claim me— and it wanted to announce immediate victory. Tossing. Pushing. Churning. Pulling. No matter where I reached with numb fingers, I found endless suffocation.

  Then, it happened. For a brief moment, I shattered through the surface and opened my mouth with flailing hands, only to find another wave had curled, pushing me down again. My fading hope for breath got replaced with more water.

  The fiery burn throughout my core poured into my arms and legs, swapping out any remaining energy I had left. Pressure in my ears, tunnel vision in my eyes, and tightness in my chest all served as warnings, letting me know I had to give in. Soon. Limbs, they went limp. Irony hit hard like that rogue wave. The water had always been my comfort, my safe place. Until then. That night, I knew the ocean would be where my fight would end. The realization of death blurred with my desperation for life.

  Hands firmly grabbed me around the waist and yanked hard. My face broke through the surface, and I gasped for mouthfuls of precious air while choking on saltwater. Seth struggled and fought to pull us upright.

  “What are you doing, Doc?” his voice sounded gruff in my ear, my back pressed against his chest while he spat seawater.

  I tried to shove and push, just like I’d done to escape Eli. “I have the same question,” I said through a fit of coughs.

  “Never turn your back on the ocean.” Seth spun me around to face him. A blaze of rage lit up in his eyes like I’d never seen before when he gripped my wrists. Droplets dotted his face, locks of hair heavy against his forehead. “You smell awful. How much vodka did you drink?” Our bodies bobbed over the crest of the next wave, my toes temporarily losing contact with the sand below.

  “Too much and not enough,” I slurred matter-of-factly while trying to pace my breaths.

  “Is this about what happened in your office today because—”

  “No!” I shouted, trying to pull away from him, but he held onto me tighter.

  My nose burned and a lump formed in my throat. Don’t do it, Jade. I felt stinging behind my eyes, and I couldn’t hold back. My lips parted, begging to unleash a story I wasn’t ready to tell.

  “Look. I have no doubt you’ve carried some heavy shit; we all have. But I’ll be damned if I’m walking down that aisle without you tomorrow.”

  I scrunched my eyes shut and felt tears trailing down my face. I couldn’t tell where their saltiness ended and the ocean began.

  “You listen good, Doc.” Seth grabbed my upper arms with a single shake.

  I ground my teeth and prepared to hit with another scathing comment. Bitterness bubbled beneath my skin, competing for first place in how I felt about Eli, Cranston, Zack, Bo, Teddy, and Nate. But Seth McCullough stood in front of me, so he became my target. I wanted to wound with my words. Scratch that. Want turned to need. However, I erred and waited one second too long.

  His voice remained both even and stern, but the emotion behind his words crashed over me like that wave not long ago. “I’m not letting you drown again. Not on my watch. You got that?”

  The waves had bullied us toward the beach, the water only thigh-deep then. I couldn’t breathe but for a different reason. The chill of the ocean was incomparable to the fire that’d tanked to ice behind Seth’s eyes. It sobered me, even if only for a few seconds against the vodka swilling in my stomach.

  “What do you mean by ‘again’?” I asked slowly.

  Seth blinked out of a daze. “I didn’t say ‘again.’”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No. You’re wrong.” He led us toward the shore.

  I let him guide me out of the water, not because I decided to buckle and follow his directions but because I was busy trying to hold onto every lettered sound and the intonation of what he’d said.

  When we got up to the beach, a small crowd had gathered. Everyone applauded, compounding my shudder of embarrassment while I knelt on the ground. Where a lot of people would’ve soaked up the praise and made it into a big deal, Seth kept his head down.

  “Way to be a hero, man!” a teenager said, one I didn’t recognize. He raised his hand to high five Seth.

  Seth turned toward him and didn’t return the gesture. “I’m nobody’s hero.”

  “You saved her,” the teen continued.

  Seth helped me to my feet, his eyes intently fixated on mine.

  “I didn’t need saving,” I said for the second time that night, a pure lie.

  “Everyone,” Seth’s voice lowered to where no one else could hear him but me, “needs to be saved sometimes.”

  It didn’t take long for the crowd to clear when they realized there wasn’t a show to see. I stumbled up to my belongings and plopped down onto the edge of the dry sand, the bottle of vodka firmly in my grip again. I fingered over the label, tracing the capital letters. More waves crashed, but the ocean didn’t care any more than it did when I’d stood in it a few minutes ago— like I never existed. I drew my knees near my chest and rested my right cheek against them.

  “Are you okay?” Seth sat down to my left.

  I let a laugh out through my nose. “Define okay.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “No.” I felt another pair of tears racing for first place down my cheeks.

  “You know,” he stared out at the ocean, “there’s this old myth someone told me years ago, and I’m probably getting most of it wrong.”

  My only movement came from raising the bottle to my mouth. I tipped the bottom upward and lowered it again before vodka hit my tongue because I drank in his words instead.

  “If you have a problem, yell it to the ocean. There was a water deity, a Greek goddess, who will hold it for you. That way, you don’t have to carry it around.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Care to tell me what that was all about?” He nodded toward the waves. “Out there.”

  “I like to swim.”

  “You, the non-adrenaline junkie, were about to take a drunken swim in that kind of surf? I don’t buy it.”

  “Well, I’m not trying to sell you anything.” I sniffled.

  Seth watched me for a few more seconds before offering a simple, “All right.” He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles before leaning back to rest his forearms on the sand behind him.

  Silence hinged for a long time, and it surprised me he didn’t leave.

  I opened my mouth four different times before I could finally speak. “The accident,” my voice wavered. “It’s my fault Bo’s not here.”

  “The accident?” he asked. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “Not the accident at K-7.”

  “I’m confused.” He looked over at me. “You can’t control whether someone shows up at a bonfire.”

  “His wheelchair. He couldn’t get way out here in the sand. He’s too stubborn to…” My voice fractured, “We were supposed to be up by the picnic shelters.”

  “Jade—”

  “You don’t understand. It’s my fault his future was taken away. It’s my fault he’s trapped. It’s my fault he�
�s in that fucking chair!” I yelled out at the ocean and slammed my palms down against the sand, tiny grains exploding into the air. My chest heaved into broken sobs. “And there’s nothing I, or any water deity, can do to fix it.”

  Three years, four months, and two weeks ago, my inescapable nightmare began…

  * * *

  Nature sandwiched me between a thick layer of pine needles cushioning the soles of my tennis shoes and a tree canopy acting as an umbrella. Fragrant evergreen boughs overhead sheltered my rain jacket from most of the drips falling from the sky, but an occasional splat from a weighted branch hit me in the face. It didn’t bother me, though. Nothing could steal my happiness that night. In the forested park, I stood near the coastline, thirty-five feet above the water— far from Cannon Cove.

  In one of my favorite places.

  With one of my favorite people.

  On one of my favorite days.

  The rainy March drive to the trailhead was long but worth it. Complex paths wove themselves through a maze of trees, they were paths I’d memorized like the back of my hand. My visits there spanned every season and most months within without fail. It’d quickly become somewhere I felt safe, maybe safer than anywhere else.

  But all of that changed in a split second, and I’d never step foot there again.

  Because of him…

  Bo and I walked side-by-side, him with a fifth of whiskey in-hand and a bottle of vodka in mine. The trip served as a celebratory moment, after I’d completed and passed my state test for massage therapy. For two weeks straight, Bo helped me study all night and into the early morning hours. He quizzed me with a mountain of flashcards, colorful muscle diagrams, black-and-white bone charts, and an old, boring board certification manual until I could recite every answer forward and backward. We both needed a break, and I’d thanked him with his favorite booze and I brought mine— both “borrowed” from Iris’s alcohol cabinet.