Another wave shook the rocks, sending a white spray of water skyward. It hung in the air for a moment, then dispersed into a rainbow mist.
Laurie blinked, almost surprised to find herself in the here and now. She lived so much in her head that it sometimes made her blind to the world around her.
Sometimes she would snap out of that trance state – memories, a good book, the hyperfocused state that she often fell into with her work; there were any number of things that took her there – and feel surprised to remember that she even had a body.These are my arms, these are my legs… she used to wonder if other people got lost that way, but everyone around her seemed so present and alive.
Dawn was like that, always in motion. Or… she used to be.
Now she hardly seemed to be there at all.
Was it early trauma that had left Laurie so disconnected from her own body, living in a world of words and thoughts instead of inhabiting the present moment?
Or was she just an overly thoughtful, bookish kid who would have turned out that way regardless?
The older she got, the more years that she mothered, Laurie leaned more and more towards the former. But really, it was impossible to know. Nature versus nurture. They were too tangled and complicated to ever really sort out.
With Mia she was present – mostly – but without her daughter there to pull her into the present moment, she tended to get lost in thought – or deliberately lost in a book or project, if her worries started to eat away at her.
She walked along the cliffs, trying to be mindful of each breath.
A walking meditation.
She paid attention to each step, a task aided by the uneven ground that required more attention than any flat sidewalk.
She made a conscious effort to appreciate the vast and shimmering ocean; it was such a constant presence in her life that she sometimes took it for granted.
The cool shade of the ironwood forest invited her in. Beaches were fine and the ocean immense, but those trees had her whole heart. They were an invasive species, intrepid pioneers, weirdly at home in this harsh environment of new black rock and a constant spray of salt that would kill most other plants.
These trees had sheltered Laurie her whole childhood. They dropped a thick blanket of pine needles that cushioned every step and made the forest floor a comfy place to sit. When the house was in chaos, she would walk to the woods and read until she finally lost the light.
As she got older, she brought her own light and stayed well past dark. She would have even slept there, but that was where her foster parents drew the line. She was only allowed to sleep in the woods if she could coax one of her older sisters to join her. Halia would agree sometimes; only then did the other three show an interest. Those were some of the best moments of Laurie’s childhood, the forts that they would build out there on the cliffs, bedding down in the shelter of the trees.
She wandered through the woods for a long time before she finally walked back. The party was winding down, and the family was cleaning up. Laurie grabbed a stack of plates – apparently she had missed the song and birthday cake – and brought them into the kitchen.
Her sisters were there, all but Halia, and they turned to face her when she came in. The air was thick with tension; she sawvarying degrees of worry on each face. Her first thought was of her daughter, and a stab of fear went through her.
“What’s wrong?” She reached up to turn on her hearing aids. “Where are the kids?”
Mia’s fine,Anne signed quickly.
Laurie let out a breath of relief.
Chris is here, Oakley signed, glancing towards the front door. Laurie followed her gaze and saw Chris just past the window, sitting in Dawn’s rocking chair and drinking a bottle of beer.
How many has he had?she asked quickly.
Oakley held up two fingers.
“Okay,” she said out loud. “We should head out.”
“Why?” Akemi asked. “He just got here.”
“He just came to pick us up. He hates parties.” She had liked that at first, the fact that they were both introverts. Those early years were so peaceful. Long hikes and quiet dinners. Their marriage had felt like a refuge from the world.
It didn’t feel that way anymore.
“The party’s done,” Anne said and signed. “Halia got a call after cake and drove to work. Everyone went home after that. It’s just us.”
Laurie just shrugged. Chris hated her sisters too, but she couldn’t say that.
