by Pike, Leslie
Aurora never uses more words than necessary. But she gets to the meat of a conversation every time.
“What’s slowing things down going to get me, Mom? A more painful breakup? You, of all people, are telling me to disregard my good sense?”
I start chopping the onions. Aggressively. I don’t give a damn if I cry more.
She stops me with a hand to my forearm. “What I’m suggesting is you use both your head and heart. Here’s the facts. You love each other. He’s great with Sam. He’s gone through a horrible loss and still knows how to be gentle and genuine.”
Her words soak in, pushing my hard heart to the side.
“And, most importantly, Sam told me he never saw him inebriated after he met you.”
“But how about what I saw? What about that?”
“Scarlett, believe half of what you see. Then confirm your hypothesis.”
The sound of the slider opening pulls my attention. I move to the living room to see Sam wearing an angry expression. My father seems very calm.
“You ruined everything!” Sam says starting to cry.
He moves by me without another look and heads for his room.
When I look at my father he’s holding up a hand telling me not to follow yet. He locks eyes with my mother and with a lift of his chin signals her to go to Sam.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“I’m not entirely sure because I waited on the deck while Sam went inside.”
My shoulders slump with the news. I thought I’d at least find out some kernel of information. I don’t have to wait long, because I hear Sam’s footsteps returning. He enters the room with my mother close behind.
“He’s leaving. Are you happy?” he says wiping tears away.
I put out my arms in a desperate gesture. He stops me.
“Leaving? No, I’m not happy. Not in the least bit. But, Sam, you need to understand it’s my job to protect you now.”
“From what? He didn’t do anything but risk his life to save mine.” The last few words disappearing in his sob.
Now he really starts to cry and buries his face in his hands. It’s killing me.
“Sam, you may not believe it but Auntie Scarlett is sacrificing to make sure you’re well looked after,” my father says.
“None of you were in there talking to him. He didn’t do anything wrong,” he cries.
I take him firmly by the shoulders.
“Okay, I need to talk to you as if you were an adult, Sam. Just so you see where I’m coming from. That day you almost drowned, Parish was drunk. He probably didn’t even know how far away he was from you. I saw it. He was carrying an empty bottle of whiskey just like he had the night I found him sleeping on the beach. His problems aren’t behind him at all, like I thought. He’s still using them as crutches.”
He shakes off my grip.
“What? No, he wasn’t drunk. I was with him when he picked up that bottle. He always picks up things we might step on and hurt ourselves with. That was one of his old bottles from before he met us. He told me sometimes he still finds them.”
Oh shit.
Everyone’s staring at me, watching for my reaction. The air has been sucked out of the room. They’d be surprised to know how quickly I’m weakening, how badly I want to be wrong.
“But when I accused him of being drunk that horrible day he didn’t deny it,” I add as a final point.
“He had a concussion, Scarlett. One of the symptoms is confusion. Another is amnesia,” my mother says.
“You can’t expect someone to answer questions or think clearly enough to defend themselves. Not in those circumstances,” my father adds.
Sam’s eyes lock on mine and a silent message passes from him to me. Make it right.
“I’m sorry, Sam. Really sorry. I’m going to try to talk with Parish.”
You’d have thought I just presented him with The Golden Ticket. His whole face changes. There’s a ray of hope.
He takes me by my forearms and gives me a pointed stare. “He’s leaving for the airport early tomorrow morning. Make him stay.”
Alright. My one advantage is that I know he’s inside the house. Three cell phone calls went ignored. On the last one I left a message.
I was wrong. Let’s talk.
I left out the part I’m coming over. Didn’t want to give him the chance to escape before I plead my case.
I grab my heaviest jacket, a knit beanie and the gloves I set on the table by the door.
“Alright, I’m going over there. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Nobody come get me.”
I know my father started to say something, but I don’t wait. I’m out the slider and down the steps. Crossing the sand, I take a few deep breaths of the cold February air.
I’m not going to think it out or plan my apology. I’ll just let it flow and hope he hears how desperate I am for forgiveness.
Shit. He’s shut off the deck lights. Now I can’t see through the glass. Not with the early evening light that remains. I climb the steps and stand at his door. I ring the bell.
Every second is torture. After half a minute or so I try again, this time with an added knock.
Nothing.
I go to the slider and press my nose to the glass. I can’t see a thing. So I start talking, hoping Parish is listening.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can we talk?”
I see nothing, there’s not a sound coming from inside.
“I was wrong. What can I do to make things right with you?”
I feel the tears well. I rest my head on my forearm against the glass.
“Please, Parish,” my voice softening. “Will you forgive me for doubting you and for being a colossal asshole?”
I give it a minute or so in case my sense of humor reaches him. Nothing. Quiet.
“What you did for Sam was extraordinary. You’re the one who acted like a parent would. Me, I let my insecurities about our past take over. I blew it. I brought you and Sam more pain. It kills me knowing that because all I’ve wanted is make both your lives better.”
I’m making myself cry because it all sounds so hopeless.
“Parish. Please talk to me. I love you. Look what we’ve survived. We can survive this.”
I pause for a few beats.
“We can love each other through the darkness. And you can guide me as I trip my way through my new identity.”
Still complete silence. I’m not sure he’s even listening. But on the off chance he is, I keep talking.
“Please don’t go. Because this thing we have, it won’t end just because we’ve said goodbye.”
That’s it. I could keep telling him I was wrong and how sorry I am. I could tell him I’ll never make the same mistake again. But maybe I just need to give him time to absorb what I’ve said. I position the deck chair close to the slider and sit. Waiting.
And waiting. And waiting some more. Until the last light of day is replaced by the cover of night. As night falls, the lights in the sky multiply. But only the full moon illuminates where I sit uncomfortably biding my time.
I check my cell. Shit. Almost eight. I’m hungry, and double fucking spent. Physically, emotionally, in every way possible. Should I call my dad to bring food and a blanket and pillow? That wouldn’t work. I want Parish to know I’m all in. I’m not going to let a grumbling stomach or toe-numbing cold stop me. If I have to I’ll spend the night here.
Wait. My body is tingling with the idea that just popped into my head. Boy, you know when something is so right. I need the grand gesture to get his attention. To force him out. This is genius. If I survive.
As I rise I leave one last message aimed toward the slide.
“I know you’re in there. And I’m betting on something my mother told me when I was young. She said you never have to chase what wants to stay.”
With that I give up an uncomfortable nest for a much worse one. I head for my sandy bed.
As soon as I get to the bottom of the steps I’m hit
with the full force of the cold. Yikes! Oh Jesus. I’m going to have to half bury myself in the closest dune. Yeah, it’s perfect really. That’s the one Parish was next to that first night.
My hands and feet are already cold through gloves and boots. But I keep moving forward.
I’ll just pick my spot on the opposite side of the dune. The side facing his house. Being seen is the whole point. I reach the dune. Thank God. Using my thick gloved fingers, I dig out a hollow. As soon as I plop down and angle my body inside the shallow depression, I know I can do this.
I wait and watch. He’s going to come out that door any moment now.
Any moment.
Yeah.
Right now.
One, two, three, NOW!
Fuck me.
Maybe he’s in the bathroom or taking a shower.
Or maybe it’s really over.
The wind’s coming up. I pull my cap over my eyes and lean my head back against the dune.
It’s cold climbing this mountain. There’s my sister. She’s already reached the top before me. She’s waving. That Sherpa is wrapping her in a warm beach blanket... Scarlett…Scarlett…Scarlett wake up. What?
I begin to come out of the dream. I don’t want to leave Kristen.
“Scarlett!”
I wake with a start and pull my beanie away. A blanket has been laid on me from neck to toe.
“One good turn deserves another,” he says smiling.
I’m crying with joy.
“I’m so cold,” I say teeth chattering. “And I’m so afraid you don’t love me anymore.”
He extends his hand helping me upright.
“That’s not how it works, crybaby,” he says taking me inside his big jacket and touching his cold nose to mine.
“It’s not?”
“No. I don’t want to remember you in fragments. You’re the only one I ever showed my heart to. And the reason no one will ever see it again. Just have a little more faith in me.”
“Promise.” I encircle my arms around his waist and hold on tight.
“I’ll never be happier than I am right now,” I say.
“I think I can prove you wrong.”
I look up into his loving eyes and wait.
“Sam called. The dog was found alive two beaches down. It took time to find us because the chip was still registered to the previous owner. We’re getting Boo back tomorrow.”
He kisses the top of my head and I lean against his chest.
And in this perfect moment I feel my spirit lift. Grief and struggle, want and need, all becoming something new. Everything I hoped for and all I’m meant to be has been here all along. On this grey, cold, beautiful spot on earth. On the beach in winter.
Epilogue
Scarlett
August
Make sure to remember me, the ocean calls.
As if I could forget.
It’s sunrise. Sam and Parish are walking to the lighthouse one last time, to see the sun’s spectacular arrival. When I watched them with the dog, the scene told a story. Boo wants nothing to do with the water. In fact, she always makes sure one of them are between her and the waves.
We’re leaving Martin’s Beach today. Now that the day’s here I only taste bittersweet. I wish we had one more night to fall asleep to the sound of the waves.
Sometimes you just need to do what’s best. For Sam, Parish and even for me. No matter its beauty, this beach will always hold sad memories for each of us. We need no constant reminders of our losses and near losses. They live inside our souls.
We came to the conclusion that staying here on this beach isn’t the way forward. There’s a new story for us, someplace else. One that isn’t heavy with what wounds us. Montana waits. Sam and I already are connected to it. Parish will feel it too. I’m sure of that.
He won’t be hiding from anything there. He said wherever we are will be home for him. I picture him writing in his office looking out at the mountains. Wonder if he’ll be wearing his uniform of boxer briefs and his comfy sweaters? Hope so. I think he picked the house solely on that room.
But images of he and I and our beginning will live with me forever. The first time I saw his face peeking out the door, butterscotch candies floating in the shallow waters of the shore, his expression seeing me naked for the first time. I could write a book about the way he whispers and laughs and looks. And how he loves me.
He and Sam went for their last run on the beach. But as I watched there wasn’t much running involved. They were too busy talking. I’d like to have been a bird flying overhead listening to the conversation. They never run out of things to discuss. Especially now that Sam’s maturing by the day.
Half way to fifteen is a new place. He’s getting taller, I swear it changes weekly. He’s adorable. And although I might be prejudiced, I suspect he’ll be a girl magnet at his new school in September.
My brothers have made our transition smooth by handling the things we couldn’t do from afar. They never fail in their love and support. My dear parents are our steady touchstones, always our champions.
My cell sounds. A text from Sam.
Come to the lighthouse! The Keeper is letting us go to the top! Battery low.
Oh, fun! I always wanted to see the view from there.
I slip the cell into the pocket of my white jeans and check my image in the mirror. Parish likes this navy and white striped top. I’m good to go. As I walk out the slider my shoes get kicked off, but I take them with me. We’ll be climbing the metal staircase.
What a beautiful day it is already. The sand is warming, and the seagulls are flying. I’m always looking for the one Parish told us about. The one that kept shitting on his face. But I’ve never seen it. And he hasn’t either. Maybe the bird left to find other souls who needed wake up calls.
Up ahead I see Sam and the dog running toward me. It warms my heart to see Boo at full speed. Full of life. We expected some residual effect after having been through what she experienced. But no. You’d never know.
“Auntie!” Sam calls as he reaches me.
“Did you come to escort me?” I tease.
“No! I need to use the bathroom. Bye!”
Poor guy. He runs past me, taking the dog with him.
The lighthouse looks beautiful in the early morning light. Parish stands in front watching and waiting for me. He holds up something and shakes it. Must be the key. Awesome.
I make it to the edge of the path leading up to the point. Parish comes down it to meet me halfway.
“This is great! I’m so excited LK is letting us up there. How did that happen?”
He takes me in his arms and stops my questions.
“It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous. You’re not having second thoughts about leaving, are you?” I say.
“No, Scarlett. Not about anything.”
That last sentence is delivered with a sexy smile and a kiss. We start for the lighthouse. I put on my shoes.
“You’re not going to believe what Sam and I found on the way here.”
“What?”
“An old bottle that has a rolled up paper stuck in it. I saved it for us to open together.”
“A message in a bottle? Oh God! How fun. Didn’t Sam want to open it? How’d you manage to hold him back?”
“You kidding? He barely looked at it. Probably a kid rolled up a note and stuck it inside. I’m not getting too excited.”
“Let’s go see. I brought my cell, so we can get some pictures. That’ll make a good one. Sam said his phone was losing battery, and I know you didn’t bring yours. See, this is the kind of unexpected thing that comes up. You need to start putting it in your pocket. Plan ahead!” I chuckle.
“I have.”
“You’ve planned ahead?” I say a little confused.
“Quit asking so many questions, woman.”
Now I’m intrigued. He leads the way down the narrow path till we’re in front of the entry to the lighthouse. He
unlocks the red door and stands back to let me pass.
“After you, love.”
As soon as I walk through the door my eyes go to the trail of rose petals. They lead from the entry up the spiral metal staircase. I have the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turn my head to him.
“What’s this? I love it,” I say not wanting to read too much into the gesture. But it’s hard as hell not to.
“Maybe you should follow them.”
So I do. I slowly climb the stairs, savoring each moment of the journey. He’s right behind me.
“This is definitely my favorite view,” he says. “You should have done this naked.”
I ignore his suggestion because I’m so focused on what he’s done. When I get to the top of the stairs I hear the soft music. I see the message in the bottle sitting on the ledge, next to his little collection of red sea glass. He’s arranged them in the shape of a heart.
And all of it with a hundred and eighty degree view backdrop of the glorious sea seen through the glass. The sun has risen and illuminates the water like sprinkled silver glitter.
But it’s just his eyes I want to look at.
Something magical is happening.
“Oh, Parish,” is all I can get out.
He walks me to the glass surround and stands behind me. Arms encircle my waist. The glass bottle looks a hundred years old and the paper within just as old. I think it’s parchment.
“Why don’t you open it,” he says softly.
My fingers move over the cool glass, feeling the smooth corner cuts. I expect the cork to be firmly in place, but it comes out easily. Turning the bottle over I shake the tightly rolled message out in my hand. A thin delicate red ribbon holds it together.
A kiss brushes my neck, right under my ear. Chills rush down my spine.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too. I don’t know why I’m shaking,” I say knowing exactly why I’m shaking.
Unrolling the parchment I read the message.
Whoever finds this will marry the first person they see.
I’m stunned in the most awesome way. I’m not sure I can speak or move.