Jade

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  * * *

  When I pulled up to my house a short while later, I opted to park under the carport and didn’t bother going inside or taking my bag out of the Jeep. In my lit gown, I walked down to the sand and left a trail of belongings in my wake. First, I stepped out of one shoe. After a few feet, I abandoned the other. The zipper got stuck twice, but I kept moving, refusing to slow down. I tore and yanked at the dress, not caring that I only wore a strapless corset and underwear beneath. I let the pile of ruffles fall to my ankles as I marched out of it, leaving it pooled behind. Flowers were plucked from my hair, one by one, in a game of “he loves me, he loves me not.” As expected, the last blossom hit the sand on “not.” Each piece that fell away signified letting go of the past week. Once and for all.

  When my toes met the water, an icy shudder raced through me I needed. It stole my breath and inhibited my thoughts for a fraction of a second. That tiny reprieve left me thankful. Home again. Where I belonged. Alone. Where no one could hurt me, and I couldn’t hurt them.

  Waves roared in the distance, past the sandbar, while my tears fell freely. I balled my hands into tight fists and pressed them against my thighs. Curls whipped me in the face, and I flinched at each lock that served as a stinging reminder.

  I screamed at the ocean from the top of my lungs, craving comfort by offering the water deity my problems. “I fell for everything I stood for! Now what? Make the pain stop!”

  Nothing happened.

  Seth McCullough was wrong in his statement, but I would’ve given everything for him to be right. As I stood on that beach with chattering teeth and numbing fingertips, I’d rather have been nothing more than that disappointing existence he referenced. Nothing to feel. Nothing to want. Emptiness sounded perfect in comparison to the dark cloud churning inside me. And I lived down to that title, not up, completely green and full of envy as I thought back to Seth grabbing Annelies’s hand as he guided her down the aisle. Next, I thought of his oblivious girlfriend, Sienna. Then, I recalled Lucy standing in the doorway with the sour look on her face. Last, flickers of the blonde hugging Seth in the parking lot at the aquatics center grabbed on tight. If he was attached to so many women, why couldn’t I let go?

  I stared at the saltwater surrounding my feet, the sunset shining atop the ripples like a kaleidoscope of rainbowed glass, begging me to shatter its surface. When I squished the wet sand between my toes, the grains welcomed my soles, embracing them. But I didn’t feel any sense of comfort. I went two steps deeper. And then another. To my shins. To my knees. I didn’t pay attention to the burn as the frigid temperature greeted my flesh, inch by inch. To my thighs. To my hips. Farther and farther I walked, not stopping until the liquid swirled and bobbed around my waist. It took everything I had to raise my arms on either side of me before tipping my head skyward, like I wasn’t worthy anymore. I choked back a sob and willed myself to fall forward, the water shocking my face and body in a splash.

  I poured everything into that swim, holding my breath until my lungs pined for air and my muscles cried out for me to stop. Even the pinched nerve didn’t go ignored as it scorched. But no matter how much I pleaded for my mind to tire and focus on the pain, it never slowed down. Not once.

  After my limbs trembled like gelatin, I swam back toward the beach until my feet found the sand. Unhappiness set in because the exhaustion I’d strived so hard for didn’t replace the hurt. Another failure.

  Clouds the color of cooled fire ash floated across the dimming backdrop of sky, a few dazzling stars shining for attention.

  It was over.

  “No. More.” I turned around and dove back under the waves again, dissatisfied with how much my mind hadn’t been emptied by the sea. My body wanted me to quit, but I kept going. A stroke. Another stroke. Consistent kicking. Repeat. After exhaustion found me for a second time, I surrendered to the fact I couldn’t escape myself and swam back, allowing the waves to carry me to the beach.

  It was time to go home, and I had to accept that.

  Remembering I needed to retrieve my trail of clothes, I trudged up the tall mound of hilly sand. When I saw where I’d left the dress, I stopped.

  Seth was seated next to my pile of twinkling lights on the beach while wearing his tuxedo, resting his forearms on his knees.

  The breeze made me shiver hard while I slogged toward him. “On Thursday, you said you don’t go down to the cove. For reasons.”

  His eyes flicked up toward me. “I don’t.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “Because of this.” He reached his hand out to me with something in his grip.

  I didn’t move. “What’s that?”

  “Take it.” He extended his reach a few inches farther and patiently waited.

  It took me three tries to convince myself to follow through, the warmth of his hand pressing the napkin against my palm. I unfolded it. Droplets from my wet hair mottled parts of the navy blue and black ink, spreading it into a blur of cornflower and gray blooms. “Why?”

  “I owe you the truth.”

  For the second time that day, my feet told me not to move. It took ridiculous restraint. I had a hard time trusting those two because, hours ago, that decision resulted in an end to my relationship with Cranston.

  “So… how ‘bout that wedding?” he asked with a dejected tone.

  I didn’t have an answer for him.

  “Tough crowd.” Seth paused. “Don’t you think we should, you know, talk?” He glanced up at me with his dark eyes conveying distinct fear of being shut down.

  I didn’t mean to laugh. That single condescending snicker almost triggered an emotional one-eighty for me to crash into another hot mess of tears. I sat down on the layers of scratchy material and flickering lights before drawing my knees to my chin. The saltwater tasted bitter on my lips as I stared out at the familiarity of the waves. Facing him was still too hard. “What could there possibly be left to discuss?” I asked through chattering teeth and with shivering limbs.

  “For starters, there’s what happened at the winery today,” he said.

  I rubbed my eyes with my right hand, letting my thumb and index finger meet at the bridge of my nose to rest. A few seconds later, the warmth of Seth’s tuxedo jacket draped over my shoulders, the silky inner lining resting against my bare skin. That solitary action provided more comfort than the water ever did. Bravely, I turned my head and rested my cheekbone against my knee. “Thanks.”

  He sat down again and grabbed a handful of sand, letting the grains slip between his fingers before the wind swept them away. “There’s what happened at Ocean Shores. There’s what happened in your office. There’s what happened at the aquatics center. There’s what happened—”

  “When did you become an open book again? That autopsy you mentioned back at the carnival hasn’t happened yet.”

  His shoulder flinch didn’t go unnoticed. “Have you ever made a huge mistake? One so massive you’d do just about anything to take it back?”

  I thought back to my stained history with Zack, the invisible scars Nate left behind, and a few other less-than-stellar choices I’d made throughout my life. “Of course.”

  “Annelies was my mistake.”

  Hearing her name in that capacity and on his lips burned.

  “She and I were still kids, and I only knew her as some girl in my biology class. We weren’t old enough to make responsible decisions, but we were old enough to know better. And old enough or not, we had to face the consequences. I can’t undo any of that.”

  I hugged my knees tighter to my chest and thought back to the hidden jab at Annelies during the carnival.

  “Life experience is my strength. A year ago, I visited a village in Africa. While I was there, an old man shared a Congolese proverb with me, ‘Love is like a baby; it needs to be treated tenderly.’”

&n
bsp; “There was a dumb party with a dumb game and a dumb bottle that spun, and it landed on us to go into the dumb closet. Those Seven Minutes in Heaven are the most regrettable forty-five seconds of my teen existence. If I could just go back, maybe…”

  “Go back? Sienna said you were messed up after what happened.”

  His jaw clenched and he muttered, “Thanks, Sienna.”

  “You wanted her to have—”

  “No,” he replied firmly before I’d finished the question. “Look. I’m not going to get into my stance on pro-life or pro-choice right now.”

  “Help me understand then. What did you want?”

  “What I wasn’t given.” His eyes connected with mine, and two words never sounded so sad. “A voice.”

  “Wait. You didn’t know?” I heard Tasha loudly in my head, “What he needs most is to be heard.”

  “Everything was handled, wrapped up like it had a neat, little bow before I got wind of what happened. Even that news came second-hand. Since then, she and I have managed to avoid each other until K-7 on Tuesday.”

  “And sandwiched in there along the way, you moved to Steele Falls.”

  “Yeah. The rumors eventually became too much. In another way, I needed to leave this place behind, though.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  He didn’t speak for a considerable amount of time, and I presumed the door to our talk slammed shut. I jumped when his voice finally sounded again.

  “Do you have any idea why I hate coming to this cove?” he asked as a light rain started to fall.

  I pulled his jacket tighter around me. “Jury’s still out on the reason. Half the time, I still think it’s because I live here.”

  He laughed. “A few days ago, that’d be a legitimate guess.”

  “I’m listening.” I repositioned my cheek on my forearm.

  “When I was a kid, we used to come to this beach. All the time.”

  “We?” I asked.

  “My mom and dad. My sister.”

  I held my breath, waiting for more of his guarded history to unlock.

  “And my parents, they’d bring beer. Cigarettes. An old-school boombox. They’d smoke and get drunk. Take a nap.”

  I clung to every word he spoke, drinking them in.

  “See that spot, down the beach, under the crooked tree over by the rocky tidepools?” He pointed where the shore jutted out and to the left before curving out of sight. “There’s a knot in the big branch hanging over the water where there used to be a tire swing. My dad put it up. All that’s left now is frayed, yellow rope.”

  I glanced at the few tattered strands dancing in the wind.

  “It was the hottest day in July, and my parents claimed their spot in the morning. Right over there. They met up with some friends, promised they’d be back in an hour, and told me to keep an eye on my sister.”

  From the look on his face alone, dread pooled in my stomach.

  “My little sister? Cutest four-year old ever. Back then, she was my world, and I protected her fiercely.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it, reminding myself to listen.

  “That spot near the old swing, it’s where,” he smiled sadly and let his lungs fully deflate, “I lost her. In waist-deep water.” He shook his head. “I was right there. Damn it. I was right there.”

  His voice went absent as he struggled through his thoughts. “One minute? She stood next to me. I only looked away for a second. Then? Gone.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “I’m so—”

  “Please don’t say ‘sorry.’ I don’t deserve or want sympathy.”

  But I did sympathize and empathize with him. My response wasn’t hollow or soaked in pity. I legitimately understood some of his pain mirroring the agony in my chest while I remembered finding Bo face down in the water that night at Jamison Beach.

  “Do you know what it’s like to do an Internet search for ‘How long does it take to drown’? I still type it more often than I’ll ever admit. The triggering images that pull…” His eyes brimmed and he paused for a few winded breaths, as if he tried to outrun his own mind and lost. “I guess punishing myself makes me somehow feel closer to her spirit. Her little lungs. How long did it take them to give up and realize I wouldn’t save her when she needed me most? Her tiny voice. Had she yelled my name from below the water’s surface? Her pudgy fingers. Did she grab for my hand, and I failed to…” Two of those heavy drips of guilt and remorse fell down his face when he blinked, but he didn’t wipe them away.

  I knew that game too well. He needed to hang on to each salty droplet as a reminder— for as long as they’d remain on his skin. I wanted to brush them away to ease his sorrow, but I didn’t dare, afraid it’d come across as me discounting what he’d just shared. Because that’s how I’d felt when Bo dried my tears after the surgeon announced the diagnosis killing his football career.

  “I drown myself in those memories every day. At seven years old, I didn’t know how to swim. If I did, would things be different?” he asked. “I don’t know.”

  He dove headfirst into the hazy string of events that followed. The rescue effort. The screams for help. The murky water. The finding her in the shallows a short distance away. The visual of her lips and eyelids being the most unforgiving shade of blue imaginable.

  My heart splintered and I slowly nodded. “This is why working at the aquatics center is so important to you? All of those kids.” I wanted to escape my own body, feeling like a tool for the comments I’d made out on the pool deck.

  He nodded. “That story’s why I jetted after the hospital. Coming here was an unexpected blow. Your living room view is where,” his voice shook, “Dr. Watson hugged me in your house until my parents came back… three hours later.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault,” I said.

  “They made it my job to watch her.”

  “You were seven, Seth. At seven, your job was building sandcastles and making memories on that swing, not lifeguarding a toddler. You couldn’t even swim.”

  “Tell that to the monsters lurking inside my head,” he replied. “Her tiny coffin weighs more than most adult caskets. At least to me.”

  I couldn’t fathom what he’d been through.

  “And then when Sienna got added to the mix a year later—”

  “A year? But that only made you eight.”

  “Yeah?” He seemed confused. “My parents adopted her a year after my sister died.”

  Pieces slid into place.

  I shook my head with a mild, unintended laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” his reply carried caution and an air of being offended.

  “I thought… I thought you two were...”

  “Were what?” he parroted.

  “Together.”

  He made a face. “Gross. Is that some new rumor going around town?”

  “No, just my idiotic assumption. I didn’t… I didn’t know you were related.”

  “She has demons, too. Ask her and she’ll tell you she’s the replacement in the fucked-up circumstance. My parent’s marriage died along with my sister, and my mom faulted me under her cloud of drugs and alcohol. After a while, my dad couldn’t handle it and took off.”

  “And that’s when your uncle…”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “My mom married her husband’s brother, and I haven’t visited there in years.”

  “Which is why you flipped out when I showed up on that doorstep.”

  “I can’t stand that house. Every day, he’d remind me everything was my fault. Without him drilling it in my head, guilt already sat on my chest like an elephant.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “You can keep saying it wasn’t my responsibility, but it won’t make a difference. It’s my fault
she’s gone.”

  The unexpected wound of grief he revealed seemed impossible to bandage.

  “I’m like King Midas, but what I touch doesn’t turn to gold; it gets ruined.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “You haven’t ruined me.”

  He added to my statement with resolve, “Yet.”

  Before I had a chance to counter, the sparse drizzle strengthened into a downpour. I closed my eyes and drew in a cleansing breath of sea air. Heavy drops hit the sand and nearby trees, their collision ironically sounding like the pop and snap of a sparking fire. With the radical weather change, I almost questioned if the events at Windmill Chateau & Winery actually happened.

  I glanced left to reinforce reality. Seth sat next to me with the top button of his white tuxedo shirt unfastened, the material drenching and turning translucent against his skin.

  He tipped his head upward with a glum look. “Perfect end to a perfect day, huh?”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  The sky lit up with a white flash. In its wake, a deep rumble of thunder sounded.

  He bent his left knee and groaned. “Guess that’s my cue to go.”

  “You can’t leave yet.”

  His eyes flicked up at me. “Why not?”

  “I still have your phone.”

  “That. Right,” he said with a hint of disappointment.

  “Come on.” I grabbed the dress on the way to my feet, ensuring his jacket stayed on my shoulders and the napkin didn’t leave my grip. “With everything that’s happened this week, we shouldn’t tempt Zeus with his lightning bolts.”

  He stood up and brushed the sand from his pants. “You’re probably right.”

  “This way. Past those evergreens and up that hidden path.” I motioned with a nod. “I know, lightning and trees. It’s faster, though. Promise.”