The One True Ocean

by Sarah Beth Martin

  The watery wind spit hard and raw against her face. She wondered if he could be telling the truth, and she remembered Adeline, so interested in the mail. But Adeline would only get pleasure out of such an accusation, at the mere thought of causing more paranoia and confusion for her little sister. It wouldn’t even matter if it were true or not; Adeline could make Renee go mad just looking for the truth.

  At this point, Renee didn’t know who to believe. “Just tell me,” she said, “why you had to come here tonight.”

  Angus shook his head. “There’s so much to explain.”

  No explanations would make sense now; she wanted a simple, clean answer to make her feel better. But she knew there was no such thing. Her mind raged with thoughts and images: their stolen moments, their nights in the dark; always hidden, always in disguise, using lies and aliases—no real names for now, he’d said. Not yet, he kept saying. Of course he showed no fear about taking her out on the water that night—no concern about consequences, the possibility of creating new life inside of a woman who still was a child. How many women had he done this to?

  “I suppose,” Renee said, “you think you can just have both of us.” She threw her head back, laughed to the sky. The stars were fuzzy and looked like they were moving. “That’s what you think, isn’t it?” Inside she knew the suggestion was ridiculous, that this wasn’t exactly true. But the power she felt at speaking so freely, so sardonically, encouraged her words. When she lowered her head again she could see the stunned look in Adeline’s face; her big ­sister seemed amazed, horrified at Renee’s words. “What is it, Adeline?” she said. “Isn’t that what you want, too?”

  Adeline didn’t speak, and Angus raised a hand up, as if asking her to remain silent. He turned back to Renee, his eyes steady, gentle. “Renee,” he said, “there’s nothing going on.” His voice was mild yet urgent-sounding, dedicated to the words. “And I do not want Adeline.” Sacrificial words, Renee thought, bold enough to hurt Adeline.

  Adeline lifted her chin, turned her head away. “Tell her about before,” she said.

  Angus’s body seemed to tense up, and his eyes lowered quickly, as if he’d been caught. A wave swelled, lifting the boat. He grappled the side and leaned back, then forward again to counterbalance. “Let me talk!” he yelled, his voice drowned out by the roar of the sea. “But we have to get out of this boat. This is not good.”

  “You don’t have the guts to tell her!” Adeline’s shouted, her voice trembling a bit, sounding frantic. “You just feel sorry for her. I mean, look at her. She’s so pathetic.”

  Angus was shaking his head.

  “And you’re crazy,” Renee said to Adeline.

  “Yeah?” Adeline chuckled. “And you’re a little slut.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Maybe,” Adeline said, “I should tell Angus how you’ve been sleeping around. Mark Fisher, Rob Wetherbee. There are probably more.”

  Adeline really was crazy, Renee thought. She would stop at nothing, go as far as she could to win. “Angus, she’s lying,” Renee said.

  Angus looked sternly at Adeline. “Look who’s calling who a slut.” Renee felt a tinge of relief, waited for his words as he looked back to her. “Renee,” he said, “I did go out with Adeline. Last year.”

  Hearing the words was worse than she ever imagined it would be. Even after this buildup of anger and preparing herself for truth, Renee was not prepared to hear it. It was better to view Adeline as maniacal, only a liar. It was better to pretend.

  This felt so much worse than anger, just as she’d feared it would. It was no longer about the fight; it was about defeat, total loss. The words were painful, stabbing her all over her body. They could tear her heart out, even destroy her or the baby growing inside. The baby, the tiny life that was all her own, the one thing only she could control. But she had to know more, even if it killed her. “You and Adeline?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “Nothing happened.”

  “He’s lying,” Adeline said.

  “Lying?” Angus snapped back at her. “And should I tell her why I never went out with you again? Should I tell her all about your little escapades?”

  “Angus,” Renee said, “why didn’t you tell me?” Her words felt lost, drowned in the noise, as the tide moved in again.

  “I was going to tell you,” Angus said. “It’s the truth.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Renee,” he said, “it was only one date.”

  One date, she imagined, under the stars. There were stars above them now, blurring into tiny blobs of light. She felt dizzy, and Adeline and Angus looked fuzzy to her, as if a fog had ­settled between them. She was waist-deep in the water, close enough to the dinghy to touch it. Delirious, she reached out her arms, put her hands on the side of the boat, couldn’t feel it. She thought of Adeline’s stories earlier that night, her angry shadow against the white bedroom wall. I was pregnant too, she’d said.

  “What about the baby?” Renee asked, the words coming out without a thought, on their own.

  “What?” Angus grimaced, as if what she’d said was implausible. “What the hell did Adeline tell you?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Adeline said. “He’ll say anything to get out of this one.”

  “The baby,” Renee said, and thought of her own, growing inside. She broke into a cry, collapsed on the edge of the boat. She was leaning over it now, her chest hard against the side. Angus leaned down and took her shoulders, and she lifted her arms to him. The rope was still in her hands, and she thought of how she could take him now—just wrap it around his neck until he choked hard, until he begged her to let go. She would not kill him—no, she thought, but she could show him, yes; he will never hurt me again.

  “Are you drunk, Renee?” Adeline quipped.

  Or Adeline, Renee thought, feeling her sister’s eyes on her, but unable to look—how easily she could wrap the rope tight around her, squeeze her until she popped. But she may not be able to stop. Yes, she could kill Adeline right now.

  A wave crashed against the boat; the sharp edge thrust against Renee’s chest. She fell back, splashed into the water. Angus took her shoulders again, then her arms. “Renee,” he said, his voice wavering, lost in the roar of the sea. “Let me help you.” She looked into his eyes—so blue, so sincere, like she’d seen before, and lifted the rope again, in front of his face and in a ring above his head, like a halo. She could not hurt him; she could only play, pretend to take him captive—forever—hope he never got away. The rope looped over him, slid down the back of his head and to his shoulders. Angus smiled and let it tumble down to his waist. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, then nodded to Adeline. “Pull her up. I’ll paddle back.”

  As Adeline took her arm, Renee flung a hand at her. Adeline snapped back, then leaned forward and tried again, but Renee thrashed and shrugged her off, then lifted herself onto the edge. The boat tipped slightly, then more as the ocean grew loud behind them. Water crashed against rock, stinging her face, and there was a sudden pull on her legs from under the boat, then a wall of wood in front of her, tangled paddles and rope, arms and legs toppling over her. She heard muffled cries as the boat turned—not cries of fear but more of surprise and excitement.

  This was shallow water, after all.

  But then she was under the boat, scraped against sand and rock as the tide sucked her out against the surface. She swam up quickly, straightened her body out, but now could barely reach the ocean floor; even on tiptoes she bounced to touch the bottom. They had been pulled out a bit, perhaps another ten feet or so; but when she turned toward the shore she saw no one. As the wave calmed, she regained her composure and breath and senses, began to tread water—a frantic dog paddle. Her body only buoyed, now as weightless as it had been heavy in the undertow; she was bobbing aimlessly in the wave. She saw Adeline’s tiny head surfa
cing just a few feet away, a quick gasp of breath from her mouth. And there, not ten feet behind her, was the dinghy, upside down.

  Where was Angus?

  There was a quick splash next to it, then another. A hand, a foot, trying to reach the surface. The upside-down boat wiggled violently, and Angus’s head emerged—just the top of it, then went down and popped up again. His head bobbed simultaneously with the rocking boat, and finally his mouth made it to the surface, letting out a gurgle of words, a scream.

  “Oh my god!” Adeline cried as she dove into a desperate crawl toward the dinghy. “He’s stuck under there!”

  Renee paddled behind her, as fast as she could—imagining him under there as she tried to keep the water out of her mouth, to keep breathing, to not be pulled out by the tide. How long could he last under there? And why couldn’t he get out from under the boat?

  The rope.

  She cried out as she swam, heard her own voice emerge like an injured animal, a cry of desperation. Her body was numb, breath running out, her mind so clear now; what a state of confusion she’d entered just moments ago. Adeline was close to the dinghy now, but there was no more splashing next to it. The surf was approaching again, as Renee could hear the crash against the rocks beyond them, at the very end of the jetty, then moving closer, closer. Adeline yelled out as the waves approached; her body rose and plunged toward the shore, then slammed against Renee. The dinghy seemed to defy the incoming tide somehow—moving only a few feet toward the shore, but as it pulled out again the boat quickly went with it, as if destined to move away from land.

  The strong current pulled at Renee’s limbs and she imagined Angus under there, tangled in her rope, running out of air and strength and life. She and Adeline were even farther from the boat from before, and a second wave was rushing in. They could attempt to swim against it, or let it take them back to shore. Adeline must have known this was hopeless too, as she was frantically swimming back toward Renee, crying out a horrified No. They both knew they couldn’t get to the boat.

  They swam back toward the jetty, their splashing bodies not moving fast enough, their breath wheezing, gasping for air. They reached the base and scrambled up the slippery rocks, their ankles scraping on the sharp mussels embedded in moss. Finally they reached the top and looked out to the water, and Renee could see the small boat drifting out. Near it was something else—a buoy, it appeared, a round object. Was it Angus? The object wasn’t moving, though; it just drifted slowly along. When the next wave moved in, the object moved toward shore again, but further away from them to the left, toward the docks parallel to the jetty. As the whitecaps rushed in Renee lost sight of it again.

  “There!” Adeline pointed to where the thinnest light skimmed the surface of the water.

  It appeared to be a face—arms sprawled out around it, bobbing up and down amongst the buoys scattered between the docks and the jetty. A wall of foam pushed him inland, closer to shore. On the docks the silhouettes under the lights were beginning to stir, take notice. They appeared to be yelling, but Renee could not hear over the water.

  “Can they see him?” she said. “Do you think?”

  Adeline grabbed Renee’s hand and they ran down the jetty, back toward the junction where it met the road. Renee followed in her sister’s exact steps—a couple of feet in front of her was all she could see, Adeline’s lengthy calves and feet. She tripped as they leaped over a wide gap in the rocks, scraping her knee. There was no time to stop.

  Renee looked out to the water and saw the silhouettes on the docks, more of them now, all racing toward the water, the foam rushing in, rushing out. One of the figures jumped—sprawled out—into the water.

  “Did you see that?” Adeline asked.

  “Yes—can you see Angus?”

  “I think I see his head.”

  They reached the gates and cement embankment, and stepped up onto the road and into a thick cloud of warmth and calm, away from raw wind and ocean spray. They moved quickly, jogging down the road toward the pier, closer to the muffled cries that echoed across the docks. A crowd of silhouettes had gathered at the edge of the docks, just next to the water—perhaps from the Wharfside Café or youth center, Renee thought; perhaps those she’d seen just a short time ago, laughing and clicking beer bottles. She felt dizzy, and the lights towering above the docks appeared blurry and yellow. A voice shouted out.

  Someone is out there!

  Chaos erupted over the dock. Bodies moved and voices shouted. A rope tossed from a dinghy. “Throw it in the water!” a man shouted.

  Renee began to move forward, but Adeline’s hand clutched her shoulder and pulled her back. “Don’t get too close,” she said. Renee tried to pull away, and Adeline tugged at her again.

  “Look at us!” she scolded, a shouted whisper, her eyes stern with caution. The wet clothes, the soaked hair. “Stay back, out of the light.” She took Renee’s hand, and Renee could feel her rigid palm, the trembling fingers.

  “Why?” Renee asked. “He’s out there.” It was scary that Adeline could be hiding at such a time. But Renee felt it too, that gut-wrenching fear that someone had seen them out there with him. But why bother to hide? Angus would tell what happened anyway. He would be back to tell. “They’ll save him, right?” she added. “He’s there, right?”

  Adeline stared ahead, didn’t answer.

  Renee looked beyond the crowd of silhouettes, saw a wash of greenish light on the water, a buoy bobbing, the lights of a fishing boat moving out, a smaller boat beside it. A splash sounded next to the docks, a cry from the crowd, and suddenly a dark spot of a man was moving through the water, swimming furiously toward the buoy. He stopped and treaded for a moment, then began to head right back again, this time with something, or someone.

  “Do they have him?” a woman yelled. “Who is it?”

  Adeline’s grip tightened on Renee’s hand as the dark shapes moved back to the docks and the man pulled himself up. “Get an ambulance!” he shouted, and two men helped him pull another from the water. One of the men leaned over and began to resuscitate what looked like an unconscious man, while voices chattered throughout the crowd. “What happened? Who is it? Is he dead?”

  Ricky Holmes, a man’s voice said. He tried to save that boy.

  Renee’s heart thumped hard, her head flushed. She knew the name, a boy from the youth center. But where was Angus? “I can’t stay here,” she said to Adeline. “I have to go up.”

  Adeline shook her head. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” She wanted to believe Angus was alive, that he would be all right and there would be nothing to explain, nothing to fear. “It was an accident…wasn’t it, Adeline?”

  Adeline’s head turned steadily to Renee’s, her eyes without discernible expression. She still held tight to her hand. “Was it?” she said, her words sounding weak, defeated. This wasn’t a threat; it was a declaration of something, an upcoming penance for both of them.

  This couldn’t be happening, Renee thought. She couldn’t believe that just a blur of a minute ago the three of them were speaking, arguing. Such stupid things, it seemed now. Even the baby growing inside seemed inconsequential, so easy to deal with. And her state of mind—how murky and out of control it had been just moments ago. It seemed fabricated now, the way she suddenly snapped out of it and was now remembering everything. It was scary to think she was capable of such sudden change. This had to be a dream.

  Out on the water she saw the fishing boat moving out, and a small bright spot on the water next to it. It was pale and round, like a small face lit by the moon, swirling in the current; just a face, without arms or legs, no splashing or reaching out. Then it vanished, like nothing had ever been there.

  “He’s okay!” the man called out, still hovering over Ricky, who still lay flat on the dock. The other boy must be dead, a hushed voice said.

  Renee put her hand to her mouth, fel
t her throat close up. She looked to Adeline, who was motionless, her mouth agape, her eyes emerald-colored in the yellowy lights.

  A large wave came in and the crowd seemed to inspect it morbidly, and they let out a moan of disappointment as the surf cleared and rested on the shore. Renee saw only the white foam of a leftover wave. And heard more voices.

  He must have fallen from his boat. Was he alone out there? Seemed so. Did they lose him?

  Renee felt a brief rush of fear again—for herself this time, wondering if someone may have seen her out there, the rope around his body. What a horrible feeling it was, to think—even if only for a moment—that she could worry only about herself, that it was possible she could lie if questioned by police. We barely knew him, she could always tell them.

  And how horrible it was to know that the tide was moving out, and would not come in again until early morning. Perhaps six hours later Angus’s body would return, white and plumped and slimy with sea life.

  She was numb.

  ***

  But later she would feel everything. She would feel him growing in her belly, and would try to convince herself that it could have been worse. He could have died even more senselessly, she thought, perhaps in the war. Because like so many who died in the war, his body would never be coming back.

  As her belly grew she found it more and more painful to remember that he once existed, so she tried hard to pretend that he hadn’t. Then the sharp, green waves would come crashing in, and she would think of him again.

  forty-five

  I found some bones, Jenna says.

  Renee looks out the window to the lawn, skims it with her eyes. She sees the bugleweed, notices it has taken over the grass near the garden, where the forsythia bush once stood. It grows so fast, she thinks as she listens to Jenna’s description of the delicate skull fragments, about the crushed wooden chest with metal strappings. She imagines a baby’s bones, wonders if it is possible they could exist today, and appear as they do. After all, this was not some indistinguishable blob that tore away from Adeline and was washed away; it was a life with features and fingernails growing, almost seven months along. Anything could be under there now. “All I know,” she says, “is what your aunt told me.”