Scattering Like Light

by S. C. Ransom

  “It’s OK, just my hands. Come on, let’s get to the shore.”

  I let him rest his weight on me as we staggered up on to the beach. As soon as we were clear of the waves we flopped down, exhausted.

  Max was coughing as he struggled to get the clips of the harness undone. “How much of the sea did you try to inhale?” I asked, stopping briefly in my examination of my hands to thump him on the back.

  He lifted his head and gave me a wan smile. “Ha ha. It feels like about half an ocean.” Finally he was free of the straps and he dropped back on the sand, wincing and holding his leg, which seemed to be causing him some pain.

  “Are you all right, Max? What on earth were you doing?”

  Max coughed again before answering. “I didn’t intend to go out. I was practising just flying the kite on the land and it was going well, so I thought that a little scoot up and down the beach in the shallows wouldn’t do any harm.” He paused for a second and looked at the water. “I guess I don’t know the beach as well as I thought.”

  “What did you hit?”

  “It was something hard under the waves – a rock, I guess. I saw it too late and was going too fast to jump over it. I managed to get the board up a bit, but not enough.” He looked around. “I should have looked at the flags. This bit of the beach isn’t safe for kites when the tide is out – too many rocks.” He turned and pointed at sign further up the beach.

  A shiver ran down my spine. “I can’t believe that you came so close to killing yourself.”

  Max didn’t turn, but just shrugged a little.

  “You were very lucky. Where did you get the kite from?”

  “It’s mine, or it was,” he said, looking miserably over towards the headland. “I bought it last night.” I looked at him in surprise. “Yes, really,” he continued before I could say anything, but he was starting to go pink under his tan. “It was going cheap, and I thought – why not? It would save spending all the money on lessons, and I could spend more time practising…” His voice petered out as he looked at my furious face.

  “That’s ridiculous!” I exploded at him without thinking. “It’s far too dangerous and anyway, we’re only here for another week.”

  A small smile appeared on Max’s salt-covered lips. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  I could feel myself blushing to my roots. “Who – who was it who sold it to you, anyway?” I stammered quickly.

  “It was a girl down at the beach party, last night. And as it was the first time I had used it, I hadn’t realised quite how fast it could go.”

  “Oh, Max, that was dumb.” I couldn’t help butting in.

  “I know,” he sighed. “I know it was stupid, dangerous and probably a complete waste of money if I’ve already trashed it.” He paused, brushing the unruly mop of dark hair out of his eyes, eyes that suddenly started to twinkle at me. “But before it went wrong it was really good fun!”

  “Well, if it’s yours we’re going to have to arrange a search party for it. It will have landed somewhere. But, Max, your leg! We should get you to hospital.”

  We both looked down at Max’s leg, where a huge bruise was visible around his knee. He had rather nice legs, I found myself thinking absently before I stopped myself. Max stood up and put some weight on it experimentally, then took a few steps forward. I could see from his face as he turned that he was in some pain, but he covered it up before he turned back.

  “Nah, I reckon I’ll be OK. I don’t think anything is broken, just a bit bruised.” He lowered himself carefully back down on to the sand. “I could do with just sitting for a bit though, before we start walking. It’s a long way back. Anyway, never mind my knee; how are your hands?”

  I looked at my palms: both had raw streaks across them where the top layer of skin had been torn off, but the bleeding had mostly stopped. “I’ll live. They’ll smart for a while but no lasting damage, I reckon. They’ll just need a bit of time.” I glanced at my watch, then sat up with a start. “Crap! I’ve missed breakfast! We’ve been out here for ages. I’d better send Mum a text and let her know what we’re doing.”

  Max looked uncomfortable for a moment. “What are you going to tell them?”

  “What do you want me to say? That there was a problem with the kite?” I guessed.

  He nodded, going pink again. “Nearly killing myself because I was showing off doesn’t sound too smart, does it?”

  I laughed. “Fine, but I do need to explain where I’ve been all this time.” Then I glanced down, looking at the state I was in. “Especially given that I’m soaking wet and wounded. Any ideas?”

  Max turned to face me, looking me up and down with pursed lips and a frown. He had rolled down the wetsuit and it was really hard not to let my gaze wander away from his face. “We could say that the kite escaped when I was checking it and you tried to help me save it. Would that work?”

  “I suppose. Or you could just tell them the truth, that you were testing the kite, hit something, twisted your knee and had to let the kite go. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “No, I guess not.” He was twiddling a piece of the severed rope through his long fingers and didn’t look up. I quickly sent my text and waited for him to speak. We both sat watching the sea for a while. It was still too early for most of the kite-surfers, but a couple were now out on the water and we watched in silence as one raced past us, leaping into the air as he turned his board into the waves.

  “I was watching you,” I said eventually. “That jump you made just before you fell was awesome!”

  “I know,” he said ruefully. “I was so pleased with myself. It felt as if I was really flying.”

  “It was very high,” I agreed. “What happened?”

  “I dunno really. I was going really well then I glimpsed you on the beach and I couldn’t resist showing off a bit. Then there was a huge crash and I was underwater.”

  I sneaked a look at him: he was sitting with his head bowed, his long dark hair flopping over his face and obscuring his features. The long fingers were still playing nervously with the rope.

  “I thought I was going to die, Alex, I really did. The fall winded me and I ended up with a couple of lungfuls of water. I didn’t know which way was up and I was panicking badly. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you turning me over.” He was silent for a moment. “Without you I’d be dead.”

  What he was describing seemed oddly familiar, and as he finished talking I remembered why – Callum had described drowning to me, that feeling of your lungs burning, having no choice but to suck in the deadly water, losing all hope…

  “You’re such a drama queen!” The last thing I wanted was for him to feel that he owed me for something like that. “There were people around, just up here in the trees and not down on the beach. Don’t go giving yourself a funeral just yet.” I gave him a playful punch of the arm but before I could do anything about it he gently grasped my hand in his.

  “I won’t forget this, Alex,” he said softly, his piercing dark-brown eyes finding mine.

  I squeezed his hand briefly trying not to flinch at the pressure on my palm, then quickly released it, laughing as naturally as I could. “You are a soft lad,” I teased, trying to keep things light. I didn’t want things to go in the direction he seemed to be taking them. “How’s the leg now? Come on, were you lying about needing a hospital?”

  Max stretched out his leg, wincing as he did so, and we both looked at his knee. I couldn’t help thinking that since we had arrived in Spain he had developed a really nice tan. “It’s not feeling at all good now. Not sure I’ll be out on the kite again today.”

  “You probably need to get an icepack on that, or you’ll be stuck on the beach for the rest of the holiday.”

  “I can think of worse places to be,” he murmured, giving me a half-smile. I gave him a brief smile back then returned to watching the waves. My attention was caught by the sun glinting off my bracelet, and I suddenly imagined Callum watching me – watch
ing us – sitting together on the beach. I shivered briefly. This is ridiculous – Max is just a friend, I told myself sternly, and that’s how it’s going to stay. I was so convincing, I almost believed it.

  Max had twisted his knee, but a lengthy visit to the local hospital pronounced him otherwise OK after the accident. I was given some enormous dressings for my hands and advised not to swim for a few days. News that I had actually rescued him had quickly got out: it seemed that there had been more people around than either of us had realised. His parents, after they had got over the shock, were furious that he had been so irresponsible. They were also embarrassingly grateful that I had been there to haul him out of the water.

  “Really, Max, you need to stop them,” I complained to him on one of our twice daily walks. “If your mum buys me another bangle to thank me I won’t be able to lift my arm.” I glanced down at my wrist where the amulet was almost hidden with silver bracelets, bright plaited silk bands and glittery beads. She might have been overdoing it but at least she had good taste.

  “Oh, let her get on with it. She’s enjoying giving me a hard time, as if all the exercises weren’t enough.”

  The doctor had prescribed physiotherapy and walking every day to help his knee, and I had quickly fallen into the habit of keeping him company. We walked along the beautiful beach talking about anything and everything: Max was very easy company. He told me all about Kate, the girlfriend he had just split up with, and I told him a little about Callum. I had to be careful, but I wanted Callum to seem real to other people too. Talking about him was exquisitely painful: I missed him so much, but every day I found myself looking forward to Max’s company, and hours and hours would pass where I didn’t give Callum a single thought. Talking about him made me feel slightly less guilty about that. I consoled myself by believing that he would understand, he would want me to be having a great time, and anyway, there was nothing between Max and me for me to be feeling guilty about.

  So we walked, went to the bars in the evening, and generally hung out, but my favourite time was when we were alone in the morning on the beach. Every day we managed to get a little further as his knee got stronger.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as we approached the small headland that had been our turning point the day before. The tide was coming in so it was dangerous to walk around; to go on we were going to have to climb over the rocks.

  “Yeah, not bad.”

  “Are you up for it?” I asked dubiously, eyeing the tumble of massive stones.

  Max flexed his knee a couple of times. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just pick an easy path for me and stay close.”

  The least treacherous route was up reasonably high and then down again. As we scrambled to the top Max caught my hand. “Can we wait a moment? I’m embarrassingly short of breath.”

  “Sure. Why don’t we just sit and admire the view?”

  “Exactly what I had in mind,” he murmured, picking a flat rock and sitting down, his hand lingering in mine. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.” He pulled me down to sit close beside him. I could feel the warmth of his arm pressed up against me, his strong fingers still laced through mine. With his other hand he started to count my bangles, and with every touch I felt a jolt of excitement. A small smile played around his lips as he counted out loud. “Hmm, seven. She has gone overboard rather, hasn’t she?” I knew that I should edge away, but I found I couldn’t move. I was so close I could almost hear his heart beating, and I could tell that it was going as fast as mine. For a moment I was hit with a wave of desire: Max was so gorgeous, so obviously interested in me and so uncomplicated. I knew that if he turned to kiss me, I wouldn’t stop him.

  I was almost breathless, waiting for the moment to happen, anticipating how his lips would feel, how I was going to react, that it took me a couple of seconds to realise that he was examining the amulet. “I like this one best; it’s unusual. This wasn’t from my mum, was it?”

  “No, I’ve had that one a while.” With a sudden shiver I realised how wrong it was to have Max touching the delicate silverwork over the strange blue stone, and when he put his finger under the band to turn it around for a better look I had to stop him. Gently extracting my hand from his I gave him a small smile and fractionally edged away. I was horrified with myself at just how close I had come to letting go, of betraying Callum.

  Max sensed the change. “Everything OK?” He reached over and tucked a stray tendril of hair back behind my ear.

  “Everything’s fine. Have I not told you the story of this bracelet? I found it in the mud on the bank of the Thames. It was tied to a big rock with a piece of wire.” I couldn’t help reaching over to touch the stone enclosed in its cage of beautifully plaited silver ropes.

  “Really? That was lucky. It must be worth a fair bit of money.”

  “Yes, I guess.” I paused, knowing I had to say something more. “It’s Callum’s favourite too.”

  Max straightened up, shaking his head slightly. “I see. Well, I guess round one to Callum then.” He smiled as he said it, but I could read a different message in his eyes.

  We started to make our way back down the rocks to the soft sand, and the silence between us was becoming embarrassing. I knew that I needed to say something, but everything I thought of seemed really trivial. Eventually I reckoned it was as good a time as any to ask the question I had been putting off. “I know this is a bit random,” I asked brightly, “but did you say the other day that you studied Latin?”

  “Uh-huh. Just finished the A level, and won’t be touching it again anytime soon. Why?” The surprise was evident in his voice.

  “I came across an inscription on something recently, and I think it might be Latin, but can’t be positive.”

  “Do you remember what it was?”

  “Well, I’ve no idea how to pronounce it but it was roughly mor memoriae.” I stumbled over the unfamiliar words.

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “I think so. The script was a bit difficult to read, but that’s what it seemed to be.”

  “Can you show me?”

  “No, sorry, I don’t have the thing with me. It was on a…” I hesitated, not wanting to say it was on the amulet because I was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to see it. “It was on a silver photo frame that someone gave to a friend of mine.”

  “Can you write it down?” He bent down and picked up a long stick from the driftwood on the water’s edge, then pointed towards a patch of smooth sand.

  “Oh, OK, I guess I can.” I took the stick and started to write, trying to put in as many of the flourishes from the inscription as I could remember. Max stood next to me, a thoughtful look on his face.

  “With Latin, a few words can have a number of different translations because they didn’t have the same grammatical structure that we do. But this doesn’t really mean anything as a phrase. Memoriae is memory, mor isn’t a word I’ve ever heard of.”

  “Really? Maybe it isn’t Latin.”

  “Or maybe whoever wrote it didn’t know their Latin very well. They might mean mors, which would be death.”

  I stopped in my tracks, remembering the faintly scratched “s” between the words. “Death?”

  “Yeah, I guess it could mean ‘death of memories’. Perhaps it was a frame which held pictures of dead relatives.”

  Death of memories. I realised that I had been hoping it would be something more profound, something that might unravel the puzzle. But as it was it fitted the amulet perfectly; describing what they did every day, dead people finding an endless stream of other people’s memories. It would be just the sort of inscription that I should expect on something so malevolent. All those poor Dirges, trapped by their amulets, destined never to be freed from the endless grind. I looked at the writing in the sand as a slightly larger wave hit the beach. The gentle sweep of water ran quickly across the flat patch of sand, obliterating the words. I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, lost in pity for the souls caught i
n the hideous existence imposed upon them by the amulet and its strange inscription, my inability to work out how I could save them, and piercing guilt that I hadn’t spent more time trying to figure it out.

  “Hey.” The gentle touch on my arm almost startled me. “What’s up, Alex? Why does that make you so sad?”

  I couldn’t speak, just continued looking at the beach where the sand had been wiped clean. Every trace of the words was gone.

  Back at the hotel I locked myself in my room and sank on the bed with my head in my hands. How could I have been so quick to forget my plans to help the Dirges, and how on earth had I so nearly let Max kiss me? I couldn’t believe how I was feeling: the guilt and the longing were fighting in my heart. I needed to talk, and there was only one person in the world who would really understand. Mum would go ballistic when she realised I’d used my phone to chat to someone in France, but I’d deal with that problem later. Crossing my fingers that Grace would have her mobile with her I selected her number and listened to the strange beeps and hisses of the foreign phone system. Finally I could hear an echoing ringtone. It went on and on, and I was just about to give up when there was a click followed by a breathless voice.

  “Alex? Babe, is that you?”

  “Hi, Grace, yeah. How’s the holiday?”

  “Oh, it’s OK. There’s not much to do. How’s yours?”

  “Complicated. I need a speed chat before Mum finds me. She’s banned the use of mobiles this year.”

  “What’s up? Who is he?” As usual Grace had got to the heart of the problem in an instant.

  “You remember me talking about Max, the guy we always see out here? He was a right geek, but he’s got sort of gorgeous since I last saw him. I’ve been playing it very cool, not flirting or anything, but there’s definitely a connection.” I paused, feeling my cheeks starting to burn just thinking about it.

  “Yes, and?”

  “Earlier, we were sitting on the beach, and I realised that I wanted him to kiss me! How can that be possible? I still love Callum, but Max is unbelievably hot.”