by Hunt, Jack
Elisha shook her head ever so slowly. Sophie could only guess what she was thinking. They’d had the conversation multiple times over the past four years.
“What does dad have to say about it?”
Sophie glanced away and squeezed her eyes closed. “He doesn’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should tell him?”
“I will but what he has to say about it now doesn’t matter.”
Elisha frowned and silence stretched between them. “So you are going through with this? Can’t you reconsider? Give it a little more time?”
She sighed. “Are we talking about the same thing here?”
Elisha cocked her head. She’d shifted gears and was now talking about her marriage; her final days as Sophie Reid.
“What did I say?”
“Mom.”
“It’s for the best.”
“But you’ve been together for twenty-four years.”
“On paper, Elisha. Your father has never really been there.”
“And you have?” Elisha shot back.
Sophie let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, this is not the time to get into this or pass blame. It’s between your father and me.”
Elisha scoffed. “Yeah, what I think doesn’t matter.”
Sophie gave her hand a squeeze again but Elisha pulled away. “C’mon, you’re nineteen now, about to start a life of your own. It’s not like you have to deal with this each day.”
“It’s not his fault, Mom. You know at one time I thought he was being a jerk but since becoming a recruit, I understand. Maybe you just need more time together, time away from it all.”
Sophie stared back at her. “I know you adore your father. I love him too, Elisha. That will never change but it’s not about our careers, it’s about us. It’s just not working. We fight more than we get along. It’s not good for him, it’s not good for me, and…”
“Don’t say it.”
Sophie closed her mouth and nodded. She glanced at the board again and her gate number was now showing. “Listen, I have to get going but I’ll be back in a few days and we can discuss it some more if you like, and hey, I’ll introduce you to your new brother.”
Elisha set her cup down. “He’s not my brother. He’ll never be my brother.”
Sophie nodded slowly and pursed her lips. She restrained herself from arguing as that was not how she wanted to leave things. “Okay. Well… we’ll discuss this later.” She got up, thumbed off a few bills to pay and then shouldered her carry-on before opening her arms to Elisha. They gave each other a big hug. Still holding her, Sophie said, “You do know I love you?” Elisha nodded. “It’s never been my intention to hurt you, or your father, but… sometimes a person has to decide what’s best for them. And… well… I’ve spent so many years treading water, eventually you either sink or swim… this is me doing that.” She stood back from Elisha, holding her arms and giving a strained smile. “We good?”
There was hesitation. Elisha had never been one to sulk or act out of sorts, and Sophie understood it wasn’t easy, but she figured her daughter would understand once she’d dated a few times and maybe had her own heart broken. The world wasn’t black and white, like she once thought it was. It had a way of creeping up on you and turning everything on its head at a moment’s notice. Sophie was about to walk away when she remembered the gift. “Oh, hey, I forgot to give you this.”
She fished into her pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box.
“What is it?”
Sophie set her bag down. “I was going to give this to you at boot camp graduation but I forgot. Sorry. Open it.”
Elisha cracked it wide to find inside a shiny silver necklace.
“It’s St. Christopher. The… patron saint of—”
“I know what it is, Mom, but shouldn’t you take it with you? I’m not going anywhere, you are.”
Sophie chuckled as she put it around her neck. “He’s meant to protect you from lightning, storms, pestilence and floods. Your father wears one. I figured it served him well all these years.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’m not sure I believe in all of that.”
“Well it doesn’t hurt to have someone on your side, does it?” she said patting the front of it and smiling at her. “Besides, you never know what could happen.”
Elisha thanked her. One more hug and they parted ways.
Sophie joined the long line of passengers waiting to go through security. She looked back hoping to see Elisha one last time but instead saw only a crowd of over-stressed faces. She glanced toward the huge windows at the jetliners waiting to be fueled and filled with passengers. The roar of engines. The smell of airports. She hated flying. The thought of all those people jamming themselves into a steel coffin seemed so unnatural. She tucked a long strand of blond hair behind her ear and sent a quick text to her foster caseworker to let her know she was on her way, then shuffled forward with the rest of the cattle.
Alex ended each day as he began — in water. Clothed in a dark instructor’s T-shirt, shorts, mask and fins, he swam beneath the sky blue water of the Olympic-size pool at the base of the U.S. Coast Guard in Elizabeth City. At forty-seven, some might have said he was past his prime but he only felt like he was stepping into it. Besides a few aches and pains in the morning, and taking a little longer to recover from muscle strains, he still felt strong and sharp.
That’s the way it was meant to be — it had to be in his line of work.
A long and illustrious career as a rescue swimmer had seem him rappel down cliffs, dangle from helicopters and submerge himself in some of the choppiest seas. Fear was his friend, his default — it kept him alive, and he was all too familiar with life and death hanging in the balance. There was no cherry coating rescue missions. In the ocean he knew what he was up against every time. Sure, Mother Nature could change things up but he knew how to adapt, overcome and flow with it. Maybe that’s why receiving the divorce papers had caught him off guard. Hand delivered on a bleak Thursday morning, he’d set them on the counter where they still remained, unsigned.
Coming to terms that his marriage was over wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.
It wasn’t like he was blind to its demise; it had been in the cards for a while but he thought he could fix it, turn things around like he had with every situation he faced in his career, but this was different. Somehow there was always something that got in the way — Sophie was called into the hospital, he had to attend an emergency, their daughter needed to go places. Pulled in opposite directions it didn’t take long before the seam started to come apart, and they just became like ships in the night, passing each other, barely communicating.
No, he didn’t want to believe that it was over.
That’s why he hadn’t signed them.
He figured she just needed time, time to think it over, time to realize that they could work it out. Like the challenges of his career, he’d always worked it out.
Downed planes.
People drowning.
Ships capsized.
Throw him in the water and he knew what to do. Years of training kicked in, and took over. It was like second nature in the blustery seas, but on land, Alex felt like a fish out of water, flapping around, unsure, unfamiliar with how it all worked, and that included his marriage to Sophie. Others, co-workers, cadets, those who looked on would have said different. As Senior Chief Petty Officer he’d always been well-balanced, clear-headed and professional but as of late even that had slipped.
That’s why his captain had pushed him to take an overdue vacation.
Two weeks.
What the hell was he going to do for two weeks? He barely knew what to do for two days.
Alex’s head breached the surface and he took in a lungful of air just as a wave splashed into his eyes. Unlike others who would have enjoyed a leisurely swim in calm waters, he opted for the opposite.
The $25-million indoor facility was the testing ground for every Aviation Survival Technician, and
that evening he’d engaged every single one of the training center’s features.
Seventy-knot winds.
Nozzles directing water into gusts.
Fans simulating propeller wash.
Flashing strobes simulating lightning.
The recording of an engine, thunder, heavy winds all blasting at the highest volume. The churning waters whipped up around him as he swam the fifty meters across. The machine generating waves was in full swing, splashing waves in his face with each turn of the head. He’d already dialed up the pool to a Category 1 hurricane using the control panel on the hoist. A controlled but hard bellowing wind, with lightning and horizontal rain, along with disorienting noise should have stressed him out like it did the recruits but it didn’t. Strangely, it was only in the face of a storm that his mind stopped racing and he felt alert, present — hell… even at peace.
Alex breached the water at the far side just in time to hear the wave machine wind down. The room settled and he glanced off to his right to see Captain Brad Thomas eyeing him from the hoist. “Whatever happened to I’ll take that vacation, captain, I think it’s a good idea, captain.”
Alex smiled as he hauled himself out, water dripping from his strong frame. “It is. Just getting in a few laps.”
“Laps?”
Thomas, a dark-skinned hulk of a man, wore a dark jacket, white shirt, black pants and was sporting a navy blue baseball cap. Alex pointed to the captain’s cap, with the USCG logo in yellow and the motto Semper Paratus beneath, which meant Always Ready. “Yeah, you know me.”
“I do, all too well,” he said as Alex scooped up a towel and slung it over his head. “That’s why I don’t want to see you back here for the next two weeks.”
“Come on, captain, I’ll go out of my mind.”
“Perhaps you should. You’re pushing forty-eight and—”
“And showing no signs of slowing down,” Alex said cutting him off.
Thomas was quick to clarify, “Exactly, you haven’t taken a break.”
“I’ve taken leave.”
“And how much of it have you let drop off?”
“Captain.”
“No. I’m serious, Alex. These recruits deserve the best training.”
“And I’m giving them that.”
“Are you? Can you honestly say that?”
He groaned as he scooped up a black duffel bag and headed for the changing room. Thomas followed; he wasn’t done. He was never done. “You know I could train these guys with my eyes closed,” Alex said hitting the tiled showers while the captain lingered by the doorway. He stripped, then cranked the faucet. A plume of steam billowed as water streamed over his head and trickled down his face. He gasped, inhaling as the rant continued.
“You got this position because you were the best at what you do but lately, it’s been showing.”
“I told you I’m dealing with it.”
“Are you? So you signed her papers?”
He didn’t reply.
“And you wonder why Sophie left you.”
Alex stuck his head around the tiled wall and narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s a hell of a lot more to it than that, Brad, and you know.”
“I do. That’s why I’m going to be straight with you, Alex. I’m telling you this as a friend not as your captain — you haven’t addressed the loss of your son and it’s showing. It’s affecting your work and I can’t have that.”
“I’m seeing a therapist. Okay?”
“Yeah? When?”
“I’m meant to… uh…” he trailed off. “Look, I’ve been busy, okay. My days are packed with training and…” He sighed.
“That’s why you’re taking a vacation and I don’t want to see your face around here until it’s over, otherwise you’ll find yourself back in civilian clothes. Do you understand?”
Alex shut off the shower and strolled past him shaking the towel over his dark hair, then over his clean-shaven face. “Brad, what do you expect me to do?”
“Rest, drink a beer, get a hobby, go fishing. I don’t care as long as it doesn’t involve showing up here.” Alex wrapped the towel around his waist and went over to his bag. Brad turned to walk out.
“Brad.”
“What?”
Alex paused, his brow furrowing. “Thank you.”
He knew he could have pulled him out and given him some crappy desk job but he hadn’t. He’d kept him at the forefront of the action, allowed him to pass on his experience to recruits while at the same time staying involved in rescues.
“You’re welcome.”
Alex shot back. “You and Emily. You’ve been together, how long?”
“Thirty-two years this July.”
“How did you do it? I mean, balance this and that.”
Brad tapped his fingers against the wall and looked at him, taking a deep breath. “Look, I’d be lying to say it’s been a walk in the park. It hasn’t. You remember what they told us.”
Alex didn’t miss a beat. “Your wife and kids didn’t get issued to you in your seabag.”
Brad nodded and they both chuckled, but it was sad, really, because that was the pressure of the job. Although many things had affected his marriage, it wasn’t because he hadn’t tried to be there for Sophie or the kids, he had, just not enough and that was because the job pulled him away.
Brad stared back at him. “Emily and I have been through the wringer.”
“Except Emily didn’t leave and serve you divorce papers.”
“But we came close. Trust me on that. The problem is in this line of work we spend so much time saving strangers that we fail to see those drowning around us. Some see it, some don’t. Thankfully I knew when it was time to pull back.”
“When?”
“When I found Emily packing her bags.”
He nodded, realizing Brad wasn’t just giving him empty advice but he’d been there, done that and lived through it. They all had in one way or another. Only those who had served understood the pressure, others would just pass judgment.
Brad stood there for a few seconds longer.
“You miss being out there?” Alex asked.
“Every day.” Brad patted the wall. “But eventually you have to decide when you’ve done enough. And believe me, Alex, you’ve done enough. There’s nothing left to prove.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“No?”
He was about to reply when Brad’s phone rang. He fished into his pocket and pulled it out. “Speaking of the devil,” he said with a grin. “It’s Emily. Look, enjoy your time off. See you in two weeks.” With that he turned and walked away. Alex caught him speaking lovingly to his wife, something about picking up a bottle of wine and supper on the way home. Alex sat there on a wooden bench contemplating, before getting dressed and heading to a bar to meet up with an old friend.
3
North Carolina
Somewhere on the border of sleep and being awake, Alex registered banging.
He groaned as he lifted his head from beneath a plump white pillow and squinted into a band of morning sunshine that bathed his face. His head was throbbing from having had too much to drink the night before. What should have been a nice quiet evening with Charlie Murphy, an old pal from high school, turned into a brawl.
Minutes after arriving at the Ghost Harbor Brewing Company, a cozy establishment that brewed their own beer, he’d found himself on the end of a fist. Unbeknownst to Alex, Charlie had got into an argument with his better half and had shown up early.
After consuming one too many, Charlie had bumped into a tattooed guy carrying a tray of beer back to his table. Words were exchanged, cursing erupted and then a fight broke out. Alex was quick to intervene but instead of the guy’s friends thinking he was trying to stop it, they assumed he wanted a piece of the action — so they obliged. Had it not been for the fact that Alex knew the owner, he could have found himself spending the night in jail. The captain would have loved that.
Fortunately, a
few kind patrons came to their aid and the fight soon fizzled out. Alex convinced the owner to not call the cops and he took Charlie home.
Now had he dropped him off and gone home, he might not have felt like someone was smashing him in the face with a nine iron, but, Charlie pleaded for him to stay for just for one drink. He wanted someone to commiserate with now that his relationship was in the toilet.
It wasn’t. Charlie just loved to exaggerate. Trish, his partner of six years, had been harping at him to propose, all without success, and she’d finally blown her top. The problem was trying to convince him to tie the knot was like trying to get blood out of a stone. It probably didn’t help that he’d seen the way Alex’s marriage had gone down the drain and had used that as example.
Anyway, one thing led to another and Trish returned that evening to find them both two sheets to the wind. She dropped Alex home and told him Charlie would bring his truck back in the morning.
Thud, thud, thud.
Whoever it was, they certainly were persistent.
Alex swung back the sheets, and noticed he was still in his clothes. A few fleeting memories rolled in, one of Trish helped him into the house and another laying him down on the bed then leaving.
As he got up a stench of vomit hit him hard. “What the hell?” He winced as he lifted his forearm to cover his nose then realized it was coming from him. Oh, brother. He couldn’t remember throwing up but hoped it was his and not Charlie’s. Alex berated himself as he ambled toward the front door. The banging was getting louder.
“All right. All right. I’m coming.”
He hurried and stubbed his toe on a forty-pound dumbbell he’d forgotten to move.
Cursing under his breath, he hobbled the rest of the way.
Drinking more than a few beers a month was rare but Charlie had served him up some fruity concoction, and after that he couldn’t remember much. “Note to self. Don’t ever drink again.” His brain felt like it was swelling with each bang on the front door. Alex wandered down the hardwood corridor, the walls either side were covered in framed photos, family moments, better days.