Silken Tide

by Danielle E. Gauwain

  When he wasn’t keeping an eye on his father, Mark tried to reconnect with his mother. He felt loved and wanted, but not in the sense that he was expecting. Although she did her best, the arms of his mother weren’t that of a human. She flitted around him and tickled his skin, but there was no warmth. Mark tried to talk to her about Jessica. She seemed to listen intently, but there wasn’t even a glint of understanding in her eyes. She was of another world, another species. The love of a human wasn’t important to her or she would have stayed with him and his father so many years ago. Just like his father had said, the bigger part of his mother was wild. The bigger part of Mark was a man that missed the touch of the woman that he adored.

  In the evenings when the water was calm and night covered him, Mark would sit on a rock and watch for Jessica. Every night, she came to the shore with a blank canvas. And on every one of those nights, she made her way back up the beach with a blank canvas. After she would leave, he kept his eyes focused on the woods. If he looked hard enough, he could see the light come on at her house. If he saw the light, he knew she was safe. He would close his eyes and imagine her wrapped in a blanket, sleeping. Her beautiful paintings sprawled all around her. Then, he would retire to the ocean for the rest of the evening. Deep down, he knew it was a silly ritual. Because every night that he allowed her to walk away, he was reminded that he was nothing extraordinary. He was a man. He was just a man.

  Chapter 26

  Months passed and signs of fall draped all around Silk Cove. Even though the brisk wind coming off the ocean was uncomfortably cool, Jessica visited the beach nightly and waited for Mark. She stared at the water. With every ripple of the waves, she searched for signs of him resurfacing. She knew she would likely be looking forever. She tried to paint, but inspiration evaded her. Her brush would barely make it across the canvas before she was distracted by the thought of something that they had spoken about. Something that they had done. Every night she dragged her blank canvas and her broken heart back up the beach. Every night, she lost a little more. Every night she returned home without Mark.

  Time passed and Jessica moved with it. Some days were better than others. Sometimes she got up from bed in the morning, got dressed, and went through her day with ease. But those times were few and far between. Most of the time, it was hard. Really fucking hard. On those days, her head would barely lift from her tear-soaked pillow. She would move through her day in a haze; the world whizzed past her and she stood in the middle of it. There was nothing to grab onto. Nothing. In moments of clarity, her heart felt like it was in a vise. It squeezed inside her chest until she thought she would drop to her knees in agony. Sometimes she did. And while on her knees, she prayed for the haze to return.

  Yes, the season was turning. Signs of change were everywhere. The leaves were transforming from green into magnificent hues of red and yellow. The days were getting shorter. And without warning, Jessica could feel her heart begin to harden inside of her chest. A shell of hurt now encapsulated the warm fleshy mass that Jessica had once called her heart. When the tears stopped coming, she wished for them to return. It was the only sign left that she was still alive. She would have rather felt the constant sting of pain in remembrance of what he had given her, than to have felt nothing at all.

  Like any other day, Jessica made her habitual journey to the beach. Her canvas sat in front of her propped against a rock. Other than a few meaningless strokes of paint, the canvas was painfully blank. There was no passion, no form. There were just lines, going nowhere. She huddled down into her sweater and looked past the canvas to the mean, gray waters beyond. Ruthless and dark, jealousy poured into her core threatening to burn her soul. She hated the sea. Fucking hated her! And Jessica couldn’t get away from her. The sea was everywhere and there was nothing that she could do about it. She was in the air that Jessica breathed. She clung to Jessica’s skin. What did she have that Jessica didn’t? Jessica was flesh and bone! Jessica was real! The sea was dictated by the pull of the moon and full of promises that she couldn’t keep. Mark would forever be at the mercy of those things if he chose to stay with her. Jessica had so much more to offer. And still, he ran away like a scared child.

  There would be no one like him ever again. She knew that. No matter how hard any other man tried. There would be no one like Mark. And Jessica was certain that the cold, lonely depths of the sea could never replace her either. Jessica may have lost a lot, but Mark lost everything on the land that he refused to walk anymore. Suddenly, Jessica’s fingers raked against the beach and drew up into her palms. Damp grains of sand inched up underneath her fingernails. Her pulse raced. She rose to her feet and snatched the canvas from its prop. She stormed toward the shore. She fought against the fierce wind. Sand blew into her face, sticking to her hair and skin.

  “How dare you!” Jessica’s scream burned her throat.

  As if trying to challenge her, the waves crashed against the beach. No matter how she yelled, Jessica’s voice would not be enough to penetrate the roar of the sea that raged before her.

  “Here! You want it all? Take it all! Take everything, you bastard!”

  With every bit of strength that she had left, Jessica flung the canvas into the water. She watched as it tumbled over the waves and eventually disappeared into the angry sea. Jessica fell to her hands and knees. Tears ran down her dirty face, leaving a trail like a run of water on a painting. The cry that she had wished for finally came.

  Chapter 27

  Paint lifted from Jessica’s canvas, sending liquid threads of blues and greens into the sea. They curled and twisted through the water until they found their way to Mark. She usually came later in the day, so he hadn’t been in his usual spot waiting for her. Hoping that he hadn’t missed her, Mark swam to his perch as quickly as he could. He made it to the top of the boulder just in time to see the canvas being carried away by the current. He brought his hands to his brow to shield his eyes from the light of day and scanned the coast for her. She was already gone. All that was left was a line of footprints in the sand. He looked down as he brought his hands away from his face. Paint outlined the creases of his palms. It was as if her heart had bled into those waters. It was on his hands. The solace Mark was expecting didn’t run in the tides of Silk Cove. There were storms and turbulent waters. There were ships in the depths yet to be discovered. Hope capsized and sank to the murky bottoms. Heartbreak. Fear. Things would never be calm at sea. Rather, tranquility washed ashore much like a bottle holding a message never to be answered. Serenity sat on the beach painting beautiful portraits of what was and what could be. The sea was cold and rough. It was expansive and uninviting, a place he would never be able to call home. Home was a cozy cabin in the woods. Home was in the arms of a woman that loved him. Even when he was stripped down to nothing, she still found the man in him.

  Delivering the message to his mother of his return to Silk Cove was easier than he thought it would be. Even though she was wild, she was still his mother and it seemed as if she could sense the moment coming. There were no hard feelings. She knew he had tried his best. She simply ran her hand over the side of his face and swam away without another word. He watched after her until she disappeared into the ocean. He knew that would probably be the last time he ever saw his mother again.

  Mark waited for the pitch-black of night. As if the task had been given to them, the seals guided him through the waters back to Silk Cove. They led him to the very cliff that he had fallen off just months ago to join them. They kept a careful watch on him as he climbed the steep embankment. Their eyes held no blame. Finally, he pulled himself to the ridge. When he looked back, they were gone. There was no sign of them anywhere. Not even a ripple in the water. They left peacefully. They didn’t leave in defeat. Just like Mark, they had questions and they were answered. The spell had been broken. His father was free. Mark was free.

  The frigid night air stung Mark’s exposed wet skin, as he sprinted toward the light of his father’s house. Even though he
was eager to get inside, he didn’t want to wake his father in the middle of the night. All he wanted to do was climb into the safety of his own bed. Mark left a trail of wet footprints up to his room, all the way being mindful of the familiar creaky floorboards. His room was exactly how he had left it. Mark lowered his shivering body into his bed and curled up into a ball. It wasn’t long until he fell asleep.

  Mark didn’t know if it was a dream, but sometime during the night he heard his father’s voice and felt his hand on Mark’s shoulder. The warmth of his father’s touch sent tears rolling from Mark’s closed eyelids, dampening the pillow beneath his head. He then felt the blankets being pulled up around him. He was home. Yes, he was home.

  Chapter 28

  A sliver of daylight crept through a small opening of Mark’s bedroom curtains, rousing him from his sleep. Mark let out a groan as he sat up in bed and dragged his hands across his bearded face. When he looked down, he saw that dirt was imbedded in his fingernails. His muscles ached and scratches covered the front of his body. Mud crusted his feet. If it weren’t for the injurious aftermath, he would have thought that the past few months were just a dream. He heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hallway, before coming to a stop in front of his bedroom. Seconds later, his father nudged the door open with his elbow. The comforting smell of fresh coffee and buttered toast flooded into his room. His father stood in the doorway holding a plate in one hand and two mugs in the other. He seemed to observe Mark for a few moments before approaching the side of the bed. Then, he set the plate down in Mark’s lap and placed the two cups on his nightstand.

  “Go ahead and eat. I’ll be right back,” his father said before leaving the room again.

  Mark didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite of toast. By the time his father came back to his room, there was nothing left but a few crumbs on the plate. His father sat on the edge of his bed. He had returned with a first-aid kit.

  “Hungry?” His father raised his eyebrows.

  Mark nodded.

  “I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”

  His father turned a bottle of rubbing alcohol upside down on some gauze and without hesitation, pressed it to Mark’s chest.

  “Damn it!” Mark gritted his teeth.

  “Don’t damn me. You’re the one who decided to drag your body over some rocks.”

  After his father finished, he packed up the kit and reached for his coffee on the nightstand. He took a couple of sips before speaking again.

  “How’s your mother?” His father asked the question simply, like Mark had been away visiting his mother in a neighboring town.

  “She’s fine.” Mark shrugged.

  “How’d she take it?” his father asked.

  “I think she understood.”

  “So, you’ve made up your mind then?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know, Mark. You left a big mess here.” His father tapped the side of his mug.

  “I know I did.” Mark stared at his hands. Beneath the dirt, he could still see some paint on his palms.

  His father stood up from the bed and made his way to the door. Before he left the room, he turned to Mark. “Since you’ve made up your mind to walk amongst men again, you better get to cleaning it up. You can start with a good shave, because Jessica will never recognize you like that.”

  Chapter 29

  Night had fallen in Silk Cove and so had the temperature. Mark pulled his jacket close around his neck, as he stood across the street from Bonnie’s. It appeared that the dinner crowd had come and gone. From where he stood, he tried to scan the inside of the diner for any sign of Jessica. She was nowhere in sight. He made his way across the vacant street and stood in front of the door. Mark inhaled deeply and let it out, sending a cloud of breath into the cold night air. He grasped the handle and opened the door.

  Mark didn’t announce his presence. He didn’t wait to be greeted. He passed by the empty booths and made his way to the kitchen. Mark could feel Jessica before he saw her; sadness seemed to seep from beneath the swinging doors, threatening to cease Mark’s beating heart. Slowly, he pushed through the doors and peered inside the kitchen. There she was. She was facing away from him, drying dishes and putting them on a shelf. He watched her for a few moments. It felt like a lifetime since he had been around her. He missed the way she moved. He longed to reach out and touch her, but he knew better than that. A lot had transpired since he had left and he knew that he would have to take it slow. He noticed that her hair was pulled into the same messy knot, but the paintbrush was absent. Mark’s gut wrenched with guilt. He swallowed hard before the lump forming in his throat had the chance to steal his voice.

  “Jessica.” Mark struggled to keep his voice low and calm.

  Jessica inhaled sharply and her shoulders tensed. The plate she was holding tumbled from her fingers and crashed at her feet, sending shards of porcelain scattering across the floor. She seemed to catch her breath and slowly turned around. Her face was pale, as if she had just seen a ghost.

  “Hi.” Mark shoved his hands in his pockets, as if he were pushing down the urge to pull her to him.

  “What are you doing here, Mark?” She backed up, steadying herself on a counter behind her.

  “I have so much to explain. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Your father already told me everything.”

  “I should have told you myself.”

  “And why didn’t you?” She crossed her arms.

  “What was I supposed to say, Jess? You wouldn’t have believed me.”

  “You didn’t even give me the chance to believe you, Mark!”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. I was foolish and I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? You’re sorry! Do you have any idea what you put me through?” Her voice bounced off the tiled kitchen walls.

  Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Jessica interrupted.

  “I waited for you, Mark! Day after day. Night after night. And even though you never came, I still tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. Through all of it, I still sat there and tried to justify your selfish behavior in my head.”

  Mark tried to step toward her, but she recoiled.

  “Don’t!” Tears rolled down her beet-red face.

  “Jessica, please.”

  “You left a hole in me!” Jessica brought her hand to her chest. Her voice was breathy, as if it took every last ounce of air in her to produce the words.

  Mark stood and took it. She needed to get it out. He would take the blame. He would take all of it if there were any possibility that she would give him another thought. Mark let a few moments of silence pass between them before he began.

  “I wasn’t half the man that you needed me to be. Now I am. And I’m not saying that I deserve a second chance. But our love does deserve a second chance. You deserve to see the man that I have become. You deserve to be loved by that man.”

  Jessica turned away from him and grasped the edges of the counter in front of her. Mark stepped closer and laid his hand on her shoulder. He could feel her whole body shake as she sobbed. Mark bent down and whispered in her ear. “I love you, Jessica. Whenever you decide to let me back in, just say the word. I’ll wait as long as I have to. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. I’ll be here today. I’ll be here tomorrow. I’ll be here for the rest of my life.”

  Jessica never turned around. Mark simply kissed her on the cheek and left the diner.

  Chapter 30

  Mark woke up early the next morning and made it out to the truck before his father. As he loaded the bed with the last of the fishing gear, he heard the screen door open and fall shut. His father was standing on the porch with a look of surprise covering his face. Mark waved, making his way to the passenger side. His father walked down the driveway and circled the truck, inspecting the contents of the bed. Mark studied his expression in the rearview mirror; the look of surprise had morphed into a look of suspicion. H
is father got into the driver’s seat and before he turned the ignition, he looked over at Mark.

  “Morning, son.”

  “Good morning, Dad.”

  “Guess you want me to drop you off at the shed.”

  “I’m not going to the shed.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where are you going, then?”

  “I’m going fishing.”

  “You are?”

  “Yep.”

  Without taking his eyes from Mark, he fastened his seatbelt and started the truck. When he seemed satisfied that Mark was not joking, he made his way down the driveway and toward town.

  “Mind if I stop for some coffee?” His father looked at Mark out of the corner of his eye.

  “Don’t mind at all.”

  Minutes later, they pulled up in front of Bonnie’s. His father put the truck into park. Just as he was about to turn off the ignition, Mark stopped him. “You can leave it running. I’ll wait here.”

  Mark’s father grabbed his thermos from the middle console. Before he left the truck, he stared at Mark once more.

  “You’d better go. Our lobsters are waiting.” Mark grinned.

  Without another word, his father got out of the truck. As he entered the diner, Mark watched as Jessica met him at the door. They seemed to exchange a few words and then he saw Jessica look out of the front window toward the truck. Warmness spread inside of Mark’s chest at the very thought that she may be looking for him. She then began speaking to his father again, before disappearing to the back of the restaurant with his thermos. When Mark turned his attention back to his father, he could see his father looking in his direction and shaking his head at Mark in disbelief. A few moments later, his father emerged from Bonnie’s with his thermos and got back into the truck.