Rising Tides

  “I’m fine, Gary.” I rubbed my eyes, wiping the sleep from the corners. My voice sounded deep and scratchy.

  My husband patted my hand and stood. “Then you’d better get up or we’ll miss this flight. I know how much you just love to pack.” He walked to the closet and began pulling his clothes from the hangers and folding them in his suitcase. “Just about as much as I do.”

  “I’m not ready to leave.” I sat up and stared at his open suitcase, the same one we’d picked out together. Now he would be using it by himself. Or with Debra. Strands of hair fell into my eyes, and I pushed them behind an ear. With a short-sleeved cotton nightgown, the room felt chilly, and I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, telling myself I was cold, not frightened.

  Gary chuckled. “I know you just love this hotel room, but personally I think home is much better.” He peered out of the closet. “So get out of bed, lazy butt, so we can fly home.”

  “I’m serious.” I traced a rose on the patterned comforter before I stood. “I’m not going. I’m staying here.” I glanced at the nightstand and saw the conch where I’d placed it the night before. The shell sat next to the pearl earrings Gary had given me.

  He walked over to the suitcase and dropped the white shirt he’d been holding on top of the pile. Once his hands were empty, he folded his arms across his chest. “What are you saying? You want us to spend more time here? Like a vacation or something?”

  “No. I want you and Debra to go back home while I stay here.”

  Gary’s shoulders stiffened, and his eyes opened slightly wider in amazement. “You are kidding, right?” He picked up a silk tie that had fallen to the floor and clutched it tightly in both hands.

  “No.” I walked to the sink and brushed my teeth.

  “This is crazy.” Gary placed his hands on his hips, threading his fingers through the belt loops on his jeans. “What about the headaches? Jeez. You can’t exactly control them. Kel, are you listening to yourself? You need somebody to help you.”

  “I’m not an invalid, Gary. Maybe I will be in the future, but not now. There’s nothing I can do about the headaches, but that doesn’t mean I should live in fear. Besides, there’s nothing certain in life.” I wiped my mouth and carried the towel with me as I turned to face him. “If I were to walk across the street and get hit by some drunk driver, could I control that?”

  “That’s not the same thing.” Gary placed his hands on my shoulders.

  I nodded. “You’re right. That would be easier because you’d never see it coming. You’d never have to prepare for it. One day I’d be here, and the next I’d be gone. This way, I’m fading into nothing.”

  He inhaled sharply, as though I’d just punched him in the stomach. His thumbs rubbed across my skin. “I don’t know where this is coming from. Or why. I just can’t leave you up here by yourself. I mean, you’re sick, for God’s sake.” His fingers dug into my skin, but I didn’t think he knew just how hard he was holding onto me.

  I grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it away from me. “No, Gary. I’m not sick. I’m dying. Let’s at least get it right when we talk about it.” My voice trembled slightly, and I felt my body shaking.

  He flinched and closed his eyes. “Oh, God, Kel, don’t ask me to do this.” He frowned, deepening the creases in his forehead. “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “Like what?” I asked softly. “Like a pathetic woman who can’t do anything for herself?” I blinked, trying to keep tears from pooling in my eyes. “Yes, I know what’s coming. But until it does, I’m still living, not just waiting.”

  “You’re my wife. I promised you I’d be with you no matter what.” He reached down and caught one of my hands. “I want to be there for you. We have to do this together.”

  I gently pulled away. “No, we don’t. I have to do this. And you have to keep living.” I brushed away the first tear I couldn’t hold back. “Besides, there is Aaron to think about. And Debra. She has a stake in this, too. She has a part of your life I don’t.”

  “So that’s it.” Gary’s face turned white, and he walked over to the bed where he sat in silence. Closing his eyes, he cradled his head in his hands. “How long have you known?”

  “Too long. Since before I found out I had cancer.” I sat on the bed next to him, folding my hands in my lap. “At first, it was hell. But then, when the doctor told me I only had a few months, I realized your affair wasn’t the big picture. Not anymore.” I looked over at him and found he had dropped his hands to his lap and was shaking his head slowly back and forth. “There are parts of me which haven’t forgiven, parts of me that are different because of it. But the rest of me is trying to keep living as long as I can.” I touched his hand. “And I don’t fault you for having a healthy heart, even if it is in the wrong place.”

  He grabbed my hand. “I’ll make it up to you, Kel. Don’t call it quits because of this.” Two small tear tracks spilled down his face, glittering. He chewed on his lip, trying to figure out what to say. “I still love you. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

  “Yeah, I always have.” I rolled my shoulders. Tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill until I blinked them away. A thickness blocked my throat, making speaking difficult. “That’s what hurts. I know you do. But I’m not leaving because of you and Debra. I’m leaving in spite of it. There are things I can handle. Knowing you’re having an affair is one of them. But I can’t watch you watch me die.” I patted his leg softly before standing and walking to the mirror. “Right now, there aren’t many things I can give you, but I can let you go on living.” I dabbed at the tracks running down his face. “You’re only human. You’ve made mistakes. So have I. But this isn’t about them.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly as he stood and resumed his packing. His fingers moved stiffly, as though he had arthritis.

  “We’re all sorry for something, Gary. Sometimes we just don’t know what it is yet.” I stepped into the bathroom and took my shower. When I came out, Gary was sitting on the bed with his hands folded together.

  “I could stay with you,” he said. His eyes were closed, and he looked like a child in a grown body. “We’ve been through so many things, Kel. I could do this.”

  Trying to ignore the slight tremor in his voice, I faced the mirror and began braiding my hair. “I know you could. But there are things you do because you want to, and there are things you do because you feel as though you should.” My fingers trembled so badly I could barely keep hold of each thick strand as I wove them together. “I know some part of you wants to, but you’re afraid.” I twisted the band around the end of the braid and turned toward him. “I think I’ve seen you pray more in the last month that in the four years we’ve been together. And apparently the answer is still no. You want to protect me, Gary.” I bit my lower lip and wrapped my arms around my body. “But you can’t. So you have to let me go. For both of us.”

  He looked up at me. His eyebrows arched uneasily over his dark brown eyes, and frown lines curled like parentheses around his mouth. “Do you mind giving us a ride to the airport?” He spoke quietly as his fingers on his right hand toyed with the gold band on his left hand.

  “No, that’s fine. But Debra can take the damn courtesy van.” I picked up the pearl earrings from the nightstand and offered them to him.

  He shook his head and closed my palm around them. “Keep them. I still want you to have them.” I turned to the mirror and quickly inspected my hair before we left. Once we were in the car, I felt claustrophobic. For the most part, the soft music humming from the stereo filled the silence neither of us knew how to breach. A silence filled with too much truth.

  Finally, the weight of it was too much for Gary as he stared out the window. “I’d like to think you’d call me if you needed something, or just someone.” He rested his head against the seat. “I know there’s a lot of distance between us right now, but before that, there was love.”

  I pulled up to the entrance and put the car into park
with a trembling hand. “If I need you, I will call. You can’t subtract things, Gary, especially not those that matter. You can only add things.”

  He turned away, and I popped the trunk so he could collect his luggage. As he headed through the glass doors, he looked back one last time. Pain mapped his face in lines and shadows, and each step was slower than the last. I knew if I didn’t drive away, he’d come back. I quickly switched into gear, looked to see if I were clear, and pulled away from the curb. As I entered a clear lane, I peered into the rearview mirror and saw Gary holding his bags and watching the rental car leave.

  Instead of driving back to the hotel, I went to the beach. Although I thought it was because I wanted to see Tyler, actually, I needed to be close to the ocean again. Standing on the damp sand, I watched the waves rolling toward land. I took off my shoes and stepped into the damp sand where the waves had been. At first, the cold water took my breath away, but the numbness quickly replaced the chill as I walked the empty beach. I saw signs that other people had been where I stood. Sometimes I found beer bottles. Sometimes, I discovered broken toys. But the one thing that immediately drew my attention was a sand castle ravaged by the tides.

  Each wave carried more of it away, and although I knew it was hopeless, I fell to my knees and tried to pad more sand in the places where the tide had damaged it. The wet sand clung to my palms. I didn’t mind. Not even the cold stopped me as I rebuilt and added to the castle. With my fingers, I brushed away sand, carving doors and windows.

  When I finished, I stood and admired my work, ignoring the waves which immediately began to demolish my diligent efforts. The first wave lapped at the walls and windows I’d just built, dulling the lines I’d shaped into it. You cannot steal this from me, I thought, staring at the tide as I brushed my sandy hands on my shirt. Nothing can steal this.

  Instead of watching the water lap at the castle, I turned my attention further down the beach, away from Tyler’s house. A handful of other structures lined the beach. With one last glance at my shoes lying a short distance from the incoming tide, I rolled up my pants and began jogging down the shore. With each step, my toes sank deeper into the wet sand. The cold wind stroked my feet each time I lifted one of them from the water, and reaching up, I pulled the rubber band free of my hair. My fingers pulled the strands loose, and the wind gently combed it.

  I ran until my left side hurt and I doubled over, cramping. I gasped air and savored the saline smell of ocean and sand. Walking toward the dry sand, I sat and grabbed a handful of the sand that quickly spilled though my fingers. At that moment, I thought about the difference between sand and soil, that one could be held onto and the other spilled away as though it had no substance without confinement.

  I was the sand. I had always been without realizing it. All my life I had painted people and things without realizing some part of me had gone with them, too. Somewhere in Florida, a woman had hung a painting of her daughter I’d done last year. Another man in Georgia had taken home a memory I’d painted of a full moon with a howling coyote ghost superimposed over that yellow orb.

  There were pieces of me everywhere. It was my body dying, not my soul. I threw sand into the wind and watched the grains scatter and dissipate in the air. I had been the sand, and Gary had been the earth.

  A movement to my right caught my attention, and I spotted Larkin, darting in and out of the waves, barking at a gull flying close by. The gull lifted higher, and Larkin bounded into the air, snapping at it. When he came down, he landed in deeper water and quickly ran from the waves toward me. He stopped right in front of me, cocking his head to the side, and shook away the water dripping from his coat. It spilled all over me, and I lifted my hands as though that would keep me from getting wet.

  After Larkin had finished, he sat and peered at me. “Thanks a lot,” I muttered, wiping droplets from my face. “Are you happy now?”

  As if in response, Larkin lay down and closed his eyes. I reached out and touched his thick coat, stroking. I glanced at my watch and realized it was 11:55, and if I didn’t get a move on, I would be late for my first sailing lesson. I didn’t count my first experience on the catamaran as a lesson because the only thing I’d really learned was not to fall overboard, and I thought most people probably knew that wasn’t a wise idea.

  Giving Larkin one last, soft scratch behind his right ear, I stood and said, “Sorry to break this up, boy, but I’m supposed to be somewhere.” As I jogged down the beach, Larkin followed, skirting in and out of the water’s path.

  A breathless five minutes later I’d walked up Tyler’s stairs carrying the shoes I’d abandoned on the beach. I started to knock but noticed the patio door was open, so I wiped my feet on the mat and walked in. As I saw Tyler standing in the kitchen, my fingers quickly rose to my hair, probably wild from the wind. Dividing the wavy bulk into three thick strands, I quickly braided it, pulled the rubber band from around my wrist, and wrapped the end with it.

  “Good afternoon,” Tyler said, setting a plate of sandwiches on the table, pausing as he watched me fooling with my hair. “You’ve got that down to a science,” he said, smiling.

  “Yeah.”

  He stood and walked toward me. With his left hand, he reached out and lifted a long strand from my back. “Except you sort of forgot some of it.” His fingers rested there, absently stroking the hair between his thumb and forefinger, moving downward and, reaching the end, moving upward again.

  The world slowed to a numb speed, the hazy gauze which had always covered the world slipped away, and I saw with perfect clarity, just as I felt the blood pumping through my body. He stood so close that I could tell the top of my head would fit under his chin. Against the white t-shirt, his skin appeared golden. His calloused palms smelled of soap and pine. Veins rose on the top of his hands, mapping the life he had lived. Fine hair covered his tanned arms, and a light sheen of sweat glittered on his forehead. I visually traced the rise of his cheekbones across the broad face and the long curve of his blunt chin. Thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. And something stirring the blue eyes.

  In that instant, I saw his face stroked onto the canvas. I saw the gentle frown and ocean eyes and myself mirrored in them. And I knew I had found homecoming in another soul. For a moment, I stared at him, watching as it seemed even his chest had stopped moving, ceasing to inhale and exhale. Then his fingers stopped and opened, and the illumination disappeared.

  I peered at the strand still lying in his open hand. “Figures.” I took it, quickly undid the braid, and reworked it.

  Tyler headed back to the table. “I thought we’d better eat something before we head out.” Around his neck, I saw the leather thong, but the sand dollar was buried under his shirt. “I’ve got a wet suit I think will fit you, Kelly, so if you fall in, it won’t be such a big deal this time.” He pointed at one of the chairs in the living room where a navy blue wetsuit lay. “At least this way you won’t be cold. Have a seat. How’s your head?” he asked while pouring water into my glass and then into his.

  “Fine, thanks.” I sat where he’d pointed. “I certainly didn’t expect lunch out of the deal.”

  Tyler chuckled and set the water in front of me. As he started to move away, I reached for a bag of chips, and our fingers collided. “Sorry,” we both said in unison.

  Tyler pulled back, and I picked up the chips. He sat in the chair beside me. “One thing you learn about sailing, Kelly. Expect the unexpected.”

  “Especially with someone as clumsy as I am, right?” I looked at him, arching my eyebrows as I waited for confirmation.

  Tyler held up his hands as thought I’d pointed a gun at him and shook his head. “I didn’t say that. You did.” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. “You’d better get eating, Kelly. We’ve got an ocean to brave.”

  I looked at the clock and thought of Gary, halfway through his flight home. For an insane moment, fear wrapped its fingers around my body and started to strangle me. I drummed my fingers on the table, figh
ting the urge to call him and tell him I’d changed my mind. I gritted my teeth and railed at myself. What had I done? I was still dying. Now I was doing it alone.

  “Kelly?” Tyler leaned toward me and waved his hand in front of my face, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Something bothering you?” He stilled my fingers. His skin rested against mine for a few seconds before he pulled away and peered down at his lunch.

  “No, nothing,” I replied, forcing a smile. I stared down at my plate and picked up the sandwich. Even though Tyler didn’t appear to be looking at me, I still felt his gaze, as though he were peering at me using his peripheral vision.

  “You sure you still want to go?” he asked, picking up his water glass. He took a sip. “If something is bothering you, we don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I want to,” I nodded, knowing I had never been more sure of anything in my life. I thought of the cold water and the bright spring sunshine and knew I’d found the closest thing to heaven on earth.

  Chapter Six

  After lunch, we changed into the wetsuits and walked down the beach. Overhead, gulls circled lazily in the sky, crying to each other. One landed on the ground and pecked at a piece of paper lodged in the sand. The tide washed ashore, and the gull jerked into flight.

  I chuckled, shaking my head.

  “They are pretty amusing, aren’t they?” Tyler bent, picked up a rock, and tossed it into the ocean.

  “Yeah, they are.” I watched him stand. “But since you live on the beach, they’re probably pretty boring.”

  Larkin darted past, dashing into the tide until it came to his belly before he retreated. Turning my attention from the dog, I spotted a small shell half-buried in Larkin’s tracks. I squatted and picked it up.

  “Just because I live on the beach doesn’t mean I get tired of it. To me, it seems like a different beach every day. The wind changes it. People change it. The ocean changes it. It’s got to be the most beautiful place to be.” As he leaned toward me, his hand rested on my shoulder. Through the wetsuit, I felt his fingers lightly press upon my skin. “What have you got there?” he asked. Our faces were inches apart.