My mind circles back to the shop, to the look on Tek’s face when our eyes locked, and to his unreadable expression.
I wonder if he’ll eat the food or if he’ll just roll his eyes and throw it in the trash?
I tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that it’s just food and Tek isn’t my friend, but my stomach still churns.
My board clacks hard against a hole in the concrete, jolting me back. I kick again, harder this time, trying to outrun my desperation to be needed.
I dig the thumb and middle finger of my free hand into my cheeks and push them back, forcing my lips into a wide toothygrin. My teeth clench and tears start to well, but I maintain the expression.
I am happy.
I am fine.
I have somewhere to be tomorrow.
If you’re the kind of masochist who wakes before dawn, you get to see the world devoid of color. It’s a strange phenomenon, like the moon has sucked all the life out of everything leaving nothing but grey shells. It’s eerie, and peaceful.
Before arriving here I thought maybe I’d be able to sleep in if I was somewhere cold, somewhere where it feels like the sun doesn’t rise until halfway through the day. Turns out it was just another pipe dream, and no matter where in the world I am, my body’s programmed to be up before dawn, ready to drag a board out into the water.
I carve a lazy S with my skateboard down the middle of the wide suburban street, my chin raised, the crisp air filling my lungs.
This is when I thrive.
This is when I don’t mind being alone.
The frost-covered blacktop twinkles in the remaining moonlight as I weave my way towards the coast. Well, the shore. It’s not the coast, not really. We’re too deep in Puget Sound to be able to call the waterfront in Broadrock the beach.
I hang a left and pull into the small parking lot by the playground, breaking just shy of the only car—a dented Jeep Wrangler with a faded Idaho number plate. If it were summer it would likely be full of campers and converted vans. But they’re long gone, not to be seen again until spring.
I look down the shoreline and can just make out the shadows of a man and his dog walking along the rocks. They’re smaller here than in other parts of the sound, more like gravel. But a beach isn’t a beach without sand or waves.
I kick my board up and step closer to the water. The sound of the stones crunching beneath my feet is jarring, but I keep going. I’m not a stranger to this place. If I think hard enough, I’m certain there are memories buried somewhere of Eden bringing me here when I was a kid on sunny afternoons when he finished school.
There’s an old weathered log and I collapse down on it. The wood is slick with dew, soaking my ass instantly.
Welcome home, Novak.
I look out at the pewter slab of water spreading from the horizon to the tideline. Dead. Not a hint of the ragged surf I crave, of the ocean that never shuts up. It’s only been three days but I already yearn for the endless howl and crash, the sparkling phosphorescence riding the waves into shore only to be sucked back out again, and the humid air heavy with salt.
I breathe in, searching for it. And even without the rolling water stirring it up, there’s enough of a hint of it in the air to fill me up. I don’t know why, or how, but it’s always calmed me. Always made me feel like everything would be okay.
Bending down, I run my fingers over the pebbles at my feet. Picking up a larger one, I press it between my palms, and that buried memory flashes in the front of my mind.
Sea glass. A pocket full of it. We were out until sunset searching for the best pieces. I got into so much trouble when I didn’t empty them out and they ended up all through the washing machine. But I was tiny. Maybe three.
The next day Eden took me out again. My arm was stretched up as I held his hand. I remember Mom mumbling something to him but I can’t make out the words. The front door opens and I pan back to my mother. I wave, excited to be going, but I’m met with the back of her head as she walks up the stairs. Even then I could feel she was glad to be rid of me, glad that someone else was there to take me off her hands. I called out to her, but she never turned back, and that’s when Eden scooped me up into his arms and whisked me out of the house. He always made sure I smiled. He always made sure I had things to laugh about.
At least he used to.
I raise my head and focus on the line where the sky meets the sea. For a minute, the sun pretends it might be bold today. It teases with bright orange before slipping behind the grey of the clouds that have been covering the sky since I arrived, ready to cover us all in snow for another season.
Do I really wanna do this?
Is this really where I wanna be?
I've got more than enough money to get me back to San Diego. But is that really a better option? At least Eden invited me to stay with him. All my parents did was tell me that my room was now a gym.
No, what I want is for Broadrock to wake up. To not give up and shut down like it does every fricken year, like it has nothing good to offer when the sun stops shining.
