The Boy from the Sea

by H L Macfarlane

  I woke up.

  My eyes flashed open and I sucked in a breath to make sure I was still alive. Cold, feverish sweat coated my skin; I was too afraid to wipe it away. The salty air from my dream refused to dissipate. It was stuck in my nose, stabbing at my eyes and pulling me back down under. Go away, I begged, turning on my side to huddle into a ball and try to fall into a decidedly dreamless sleep. But I rolled right into another person.

  Lir, finally home from the union. I hadn’t even heard him come in and yet here he was, barely-there breathing telling me he was dead to the world. I didn’t have to look at my phone to know it was very, very late.

  The smell of the sea wouldn’t disappear.

  With extreme hesitation I grazed my fingertips across Lir’s arm. He was freezing to the touch – too cold to have been the result of walking back from the union on a warm May night. He had been somewhere else before coming back to mine. Somewhere far away.

  When I nuzzled my face between his shoulder blades I came to the stark but somehow not surprising conclusion that Lir was the source of the salt air that had woven into my dream and woken me up. The memories of his siren call, luring me to his side as the waves crashed over me, kept me clinging to him even though I so badly wanted to recoil.

  “Where have you been?” I mouthed against his skin, sliding my arms around Lir’s chest to try and heat up his body with mine. “What did you do?”

  But Lir did not respond. He was lost to sleep – far heavier than my own had been. No person could sleep so soundly after doing something heinous…right? I thought. It had to be true. Lir had simply gone on a miles-long walkabout. He’d been drinking, and it was so late. If he’d been wandering about for hours with no jacket or jumper rather than coming straight home then that would explain his cold skin. And the salt…well, sometimes the wind along the river blew from the west, from the coast. I knew this perfectly well.

  I could account for Lir’s current appearance as easily as that. There was nothing to be worried about. Of course there wasn’t.

  Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and forced my heart to slow down. It was in my best interests to go back to sleep. If I was asleep then I couldn’t worry that my explanations for Lir showing up late, freezing cold and smelling of the sea, were anything but the truth.

  Come morning everything would be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My eyes flashed open after a long, restless night – the only proof I had that I’d fallen asleep at all. Lir was lying face down on his pillow, still dead to the world. I didn't want to wake him.

  I didn’t know what I’d say.

  I slipped out of bed on whisper-quiet feet and padded to the bathroom, taking a deep breath when I got there. I needed to do something normal to take my mind off things, so I smoothed back my hair into a ponytail, washed my face and brushed my teeth. My usual routine. But something felt wrong nonetheless. Something had changed.

  When I reached for my contact lens case a blurry, indistinct movement flashed across the mirror, and I froze.

  “Morning,” an out-of-focus Lir yawned, stretching his arms above his head until his spine popped. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You…were so peaceful,” I mumbled, struggling with the top of my contact lens case as I tried to stop my hands from shaking. Wordlessly Lir took it from me, opened it, then handed it back. “Thank you,” I said. And then: “You got in really late last night.”

  “I didn't know you were up when I got in,” he said. If Lir had physically reacted to my comment I couldn’t see it without my contacts.

  “I wasn't. I woke up after you fell asleep. You were so cold.”

  When Lir came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist I prepared to flinch. But his skin was no longer freezing. It was warm, and comforting, and easily moulded to my body.

  “I was drunk,” Lir chuckled against my ear. His breath smelled faintly of whisky. “So drunk, in fact, that when Pete and the other guys on the swim team suggested a walk I thought it was a great idea. It was only after we’d walked to the other side of the city that I sobered up enough to realise where I was. Then I walked back along the river to yours. I’m an idiot. I know I said I wouldn’t be long last night. I’m sorry.”

  I let out a breath, relief washing over me at his explanation. Lir had gone on a stupid, drunk walk, just as I’d suspected. That was it. There was nothing more to be worried about.

  “It's okay,” I said, meaning it. I turned my head slightly to brush a kiss past his lips: they were chapped and flaking. “Are you hungover?”

  “Oh yes,” he admitted, grimacing in a performative manner. “I’ll be better after some water and breakfast.”

  “I’d kill for a McDonald's right about now.”

  “How’s their fish?” Lir asked, kissing the back of my head before letting me go, freeing my arms up to put my contacts in.

  I glanced at him in the mirror. “I don't know. I’m all about the Big Macs and chicken nuggets.”

  A pause. “I guess it doesn't hurt to try new things sometimes.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had a McDonald’s at almost twenty-four years of age, Lir Murphy.”

  “We don’t have one in Campbeltown!” he countered, fake-affronted.

  I couldn't help but laugh. “You’ve lived in Glasgow for almost three years, though.”

  “You’ve lived here for eight but still haven’t set foot in about ninety-five percent of the restaurants in the West End alone.”

  It was hard to converse with Lir and put my contacts in, so I ignored his last comment in favour of giving myself the gift of sight. The left lens went in easily; the right, however, was being a pain. I poked my eye and blinked out the lens twice before it, finally, sat in place. My eye was stinging and slightly red by the time I was finished.

  Lir was wincing at my reflection. “I don’t understand how you can touch your eyes every day. It’s disgusting.”

  “I didn’t have you pegged as a squeamish person,” I said, genuinely surprised.

  He shrugged. “I can't stand the sight of blood. The idea of touching eyes and bones and stuff creeps me out. Why did you think I wasn’t squeamish?”

  I didn’t have an answer for him. At least, not one that didn’t make me sound like an overly-suspicious, paranoid woman.

  I left the bathroom, then, to give Lir an opportunity to use the toilet and brush his teeth, and wasted time picking out my underwear. But by the time I put some on and reached for a dress from my wardrobe Lir reappeared and grabbed me, pulling me down onto the bed to plant kisses all over my face.

  “Lir!” I giggled. “What about food?”

  “It’s still the breakfast menu right now,” he said, pausing from his entirely welcome assault to glance at the clock. “I thought you wanted chicken nuggets?”

  “How do you know when the breakfast menu is on when you’ve never set foot inside a McDonald’s before?”

  “You spend bloody ages staring longingly at the damn place whenever we walk past it,” he explained. “It’s like you’re addicted. How often did you eat from there before we started going out?”

  “Um…too often, I suppose.” I nuzzled into Lir’s neck and thought about it. Louisa and I used to have a McDonald’s every week. It was our thing. After she left I still went fairly frequently and then video called her so she could keep me company whilst I ate.

  As if she knew I was thinking about her my phone began to vibrate on my bedside table, and when I reached over Lir to grab it I saw I had an incoming call from my best friend. I was divided on whether I should answer; I’d ignored so many of her calls lately. Me ignoring her wasn’t entirely warranted, but she didn’t make things easy when all she did was criticise me for spending time with Lir.

  But if all I do is ignore her then she’ll never, ever like him.

  I gave Lir an apologetic smile. “I should get this.”

  When he pouted it was somehow both ridiculous and beautiful. “I’ll mak
e some tea, then. Lemon?”

  “Just regular for me,” I said, before rolling onto my front to accept Louisa’s video call. A flash of genuine surprise crossed her face when she realised she’d actually gotten through to me. I waved sheepishly at her pixelated appearance. “Hey, Lou,” I said. “How are you?”

  Her surprise was quickly replaced with annoyance. “So you’ve finally dignified me with some kind of response?” Louisa huffed. “It’s not like I haven’t called a dozen times, left you loads of messages and tagged you in a tonne of photos on Instagram, you know.”

  I didn’t have a good excuse, but an excuse I gave anyway. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, busy with your boyfriend,” she said, as if the word disgusted her. Her response left me immediately on edge, reminding me why I’d been avoiding her in the first place.

  “What’s wrong with me wanting to spend time with him? He’s my boyfriend, as you so kindly pointed out. What else am I supposed to do but spend time with him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes as she pretended to consider my question. “Maybe call your best friend? Let me know what’s going on in your life?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you when all you do is judge me.”

  Louisa stared at me like I’d shot her. “Gracie, I'm worried about you, that’s all! You’ve never been like this before.”

  “What, not dependent on you?”

  “That’s not what I –”

  “You say you want to know what’s going on in my life but you disapprove of what I’m doing. What you really want is for me to live the life you’ve decided I should have.”

  Even over the terrible video quality I could see that Louisa’s eyes had grown too bright. She shook her beautiful mane of auburn hair. “You’re putting words in my mouth. Look, I know things haven’t been easy with me out here. But that doesn’t mean things have to change so much between us.”

  “But they do,” I insisted. “I’m tired of spending every day missing you, wishing you would come back but then hating myself for thinking that when you’re just living your life. And I’m happy for you. Of course I am. But what you want for me and what I want for me are different things. We’re different, Louisa. And if you can’t accept that then – then –”

  I hung up.

  “That didn't sound too good,” Lir said, lingering by the doorway with a cup of tea in each hand. He frowned at me in concern. “Everything okay?”

  “Absolutely peachy,” I said, clearly lying. God, I needed a Big Mac. “She’s just so full of herself, you know? She decided she doesn't like you, which means I’m not allowed to spend any time with you. I think Louisa would only be happy if we broke up.”

  Lir sat down beside me on the bed, encouraging me to sit up, too, so he could hand me my tea. I held it between my hands, savouring the warmth it sent through me.

  “That might be true,” he said softly, “or it might not. Either way, the best thing for you to do is cool off and think about this later. Friends grow apart from each other all the time. How long have you known Louisa? Like, eight years?”

  I nodded.

  “So you’re both completely different people than who you were when you first met, Grace. All friendships are subject to change and, well…” Lir picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles, grey eyes never leaving mine. “Louisa's on the other side of the world. She isn’t in Glasgow. If you don’t want to be bothered by her all you have to do is stop picking up her calls and answering her messages. It’s that simple.”

  He had a point. But even through my anger I knew I was sad, too. I didn’t really want to stop being friends with Louisa. We’d never spent so much time apart; of course things were different between us. The dynamic of our relationship just needed to change a little for the better. That was all.

  I sighed heavily into my tea. I needed to calm down. “I'm glad we’re leaving in a few days,” I told Lir. “God knows I need the break.”

  “Um, speaking about that…”

  I froze immediately, staring at Lir in horror. “Oh, please, don't tell me you're not –”

  “No, no, no!” he laughed, rubbing my shoulder reassuringly. “Of course I’m going. It’s just, I couldn’t wait for the trip so I…may have booked a hotel in Dunoon. For the next two nights.”

  “You what now?”

  “I booked a hotel,” Lir repeated, voice endlessly patient like I was a child he was explaining a difficult concept to. “Seems kind of arbitrary for us to leave in a few days. Why not now?”

  “And you booked this when you were drunk?”

  He shrugged. “Just did it on my phone on the walk back along the riverfront. I can cancel it if you want. Won’t get my deposit back, though. Would you really rob a poor student of his money?”

  I could only laugh. Lir didn’t care about the money at all. If I said I didn’t want to leave today then he’d accept that as my decision. But he was right. Why wait a few days? Getting away now was exactly what I needed.

  I stood up, grinning at Lir. He responded eagerly in kind. “Let's pack, then. McDonald's on the road?”

  “Of course.”

  All good road trips started with one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The last time I visited Dunoon my parents had wanted to spend the day walking through Benmore Botanic Garden and then Glen Massan, but I was only seven and couldn't possibly manage such a long walk. We'd gone to Morag's Fairy Glen, instead, which was a much easier, shorter hike, and the entrance to it was conveniently right beside a play park. I spent almost an hour on the swings and slides, content to let my parents sit on a bench and watch me play. Since I had no siblings they took it in turns on the seesaw, though I liked it best when my dad was on it with me. He'd press down so hard on his seat that I'd go flying into the air, and my mum would scream in concern as I collapsed into a fit of laughter.

  But I wasn't seven now, and I figured my parents' original plan for Dunoon was a good enough plan for Lir and I to follow.

  The air was muggy and uncomfortable when we got out of my car and paid for our entrance to the Botanics, soaking our skin and clothes in sweat within minutes. “I hope the sun comes out,” I told Lir, buying two bottles of ice-cold water from the café for good measure before leaving the wood-panelled building for the gardens proper. “It might help the air feel less...thick.”

  Lir nodded in thanks when I handed him one of the bottles, quickly unscrewing the lid and pouring the liquid into his mouth like he’d just walked through a desert for days on end with no water. I watched him swallow it all, admiring the curve of his throat with every gulp he took. How was it fair that Lir was in such fantastic shape? Okay, he spent half his time training so it wasn’t as if he just naturally looked this way, but still. The fact he had a perfect damn throat felt wildly unfair.

  “At least we’re outside rather than stuck indoors,” Lir said, wiping his mouth as he recapped the bottle. Then he eyed me carefully, suspicious of the way I was staring at him. “Why are looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re…objectifying me.”

  I choked out a laugh. “Am I not allowed to objectify my boyfriend?”

  “Only with his permission,” he joked. He glanced up at the sky. “It might clear up, though. The weather. The sun is just behind the clouds.”

  “I bloody hope so. I might die in such oppressive conditions.”

  Then Lir pushed me into the gardens, hands lingering on the small of my back a second too long to be innocent. “A bit of heat never hurt anyone. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

  “And if the heat gets too much?”

  He gave me a look so filthy I could do nothing but gape at him in response. He smirked. “Then we find somewhere to rid ourselves of our clothes.”

  “We can’t really – oh. Oh. Lir, look!”

  For the scenery around us immediately threw my urge to flirt into the non-existent wind: after walking but a minute or tw
o from the entrance we found ourselves in an outdoor corridor made for creatures much larger than mere humans. Giants, even. On either side of the grassy causeway was a line of redwood trees which dwarfed every other tree within my line of sight. Their trunks were as wide across as a horse, with exposed roots large enough to comfortably sit upon. It felt as if the rust-coloured length of them never stopped, simply continuing on forever into the sky. I had to tilt my head up and up and up to spot the tops of their leafy, crowning branches.

  Lir let out a low whistle, hand over his eyes as he peered at the treetops. “Wow. Those are some big trees.”

  “Big is an understatement,” I said, lowering my voice as we began walking between the redwoods. It felt disrespectful to be loud and brash and inappropriate in front of them. Like they were judging us. Like they were lords or kings or gods.

  Clearly Lir felt the same way for he, too, grew quiet as we padded along the grass, eyes always on the monolithic trees. Even the air itself seemed silent; only after we passed through the walkway could we hear the birds sing to each other once more.

  I exhaled deeply when the redwood trees were well and truly behind us. “That was kind of – kind of –”

  “Scary,” Lir finished for me, a look of awe on his face. “In an amazing way.”

  I nodded. There was surely a more eloquent way to put it but Lir's description worked well enough. Scary in an amazing way.

  I wondered what the rest of the garden had in store for us.

  But there were no more godlike trees or hushed, imposing silences for us to experience. The rest of the Botanics were beautiful – heavenly so, almost – but it was simply a garden. A very, very large garden, which fed into the forest, but a garden by any other name nonetheless.

  There was a large, sweeping pond, with several willows hanging overhead. Their trailing leaves broke the surface of the water, sending ripples out in concentric circles until they disappeared as if they had never existed at all. Sometimes a bubble or two broke the surface, too, and when I looked closely I saw that they were the result of tiny fish coming up to eat flies and other insects that skated across the pond.