Low Tide
The glow of the moon reflected off the ocean as I made my way towards the shore. An orange glow blanketed the surface of the sea. The dark abyss of the water contrasted with the bright cheerful moon, making me more uneasy. It reminded me of Halloween, which was never my favorite holiday. I also wasn't expecting it to be as brisk as it was. When the wind blew, I shuddered, rethinking the thin jacket I put on moments before leaving my home. A gaping whole under my left sleeve left me chilly and vulnerable. Sophie despised this coat. She claimed I looked like a "ragamuffin". From the outside, looking from my window, it appeared pleasant tonight. Although, I hadn't left the comfort of my home in a number of days, so my judgment was skewed. I knew a week had passed, by the stack of newspapers pilling up on the cobblestone in front of my house. It wasn't enough to think I had been murdered, but enough to notice if someone drove by.
I felt the cool, smooth sand between my toes as I moved closer and closer. I wanted to delay this as much as possible. Maybe if I didn't do it, it wouldn't be real? However, I knew the time had come and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Every second I stretched out, moving my feet slower and slower. I felt like a clock with only one hand. I kept moving around, but never going anywhere.
I turned my head in both directions. There was a small group of teenagers on my left side. From the looks of it, they were probably drunk. It was hard not to notice them; it couldn't have been more than ten seconds before one of them shouted something. Screams and laughter erupted from their general direction. I inferred that it was their last hurrah before they all departed and went back to college. I saw an NYU sweatshirt as I kept walking, Sophie's and my alma mater. My heart sunk, Sophie would have said "hi" and made small talk with the young hooligans. Probably asking them what they're majoring in and telling them the best spots to eat at. She has always been more outgoing and amiable than me. At college parties back in 98', she would drag me to them with my feet lagging behind. Once I pretended I was studying for calculus, so I wouldn't have to go. Although she didn't buy it, she knew I hated calc. I should have picked something I actually liked, or at least a class I was enrolled in.
It was just after Labor Day, so the leaves barely started changing. Autumn was my favorite season; nothing compared to the scent that arose when the seasons shifted. When I used to go on runs this was my favorite type of weather to exercise in. I loved how the cool air flew across my body as I soared through the streets. It was always so peaceful too. All of the tourists had gone home and my favorite little town retuned to its quaint feature that I had always admired. I hadn't had much time to run lately; most of my time had been occupied at the hospital. And then after that, I really haven't wanted to see other people. I'm content living in the dark. I like having the shades down, letting minimal light through the cracks. If I go outside and see the sun, I am afraid all the memories will disappear as the shadows come out of hiding.
With each step I approached the shore line. I could hardly see the white foam at my feet because darkness surrounded me. The stars glistened above me, and I tilted my head to get a clearer view of the small balls of fire lighting up the sky. They looked like connect the dots in the air. I attempted to detect the star Sophie had designated to be ours, but it was nowhere to be found, kind of like my happiness. There was a gentle rush of waves hugging my ears. The fishy scent immediately entered my nose as soon as I stepped foot on the shore. Living by the sea, I became accustomed to it, though. If I didn't like seafood more than the average person, I would be sick of it by now.
When Sophie finally got a job working at the Baltimore Aquarium, she was the happiest I had ever seen her. Even happier than when I proposed, which I thought was funny. She kept bugging me about it--sometimes she would leave little notes around our first apartment in NYC. Sophie really knew how to press my buttons. Although, I had a plan all along. And when I did eventually pop the question, she didn't see it coming.
That was years before we moved to down to Maryland. We resided in Seaside Heights, New Jersey for a while. Sophie wouldn't let us live anywhere that was a maximum of 3 miles from the beach. Every morning she woke up and took a walk along the beach, normally when the sun was beginning to stir. If she found a shell that sparked her interest, she collected it and placed it in a small glass bowl by the door. After all these years, the bowl was overflowing, a waterfall of delicate pieces of rock. Sometimes I would run on the beach and see her tiny footsteps on the perimeter of the ocean. I searched for them, but I didn't see them anymore. To be frank, I hadn't in months. I just saw the faint shadow my body cast from the moon's glow.
A gust of wind blew against my face. It went deep through my core and shook my spine. It felt like small shards of glass had been thrown at me, braking upon impact with my frame. Small droplets of water escaped from the ducts of my eyes. They were a combination of tears and a reaction with the air. Every so often I would be splashed with a sprinkle of sea water; I knew the ocean was teasing me. "Just do it already" she provoked. I told myself to not let her get to me, what does she know? She's only a body of water.
The vast Atlantic stared back at me. I shut my eyes and tried to alleviate my apprehensions. I wanted them to fly away, like the seagulls at the end of a warm and refreshing summer. My hands were trembling. I felt like I was going into collapse, and my heart was going to beat out of my chest. With each beat it was inching its way out of my now fragile body. I put the urn in between my ribcage and right arm, and proceeded to wipe the copious amount of sweat that arose on my hand. The pit in my stomach fell deeper than when I stepped foot on the shore what seemed like hours ago.
I gasped for air, and gently opened my eyes. The wind was picking up with each gust that blew by. Tenderly, I placed my hand on the top of the urn and slowly turned the lid to the left and I felt the pressure dissipate. It was a sign. Sophie was ready to leave, I just wasn't ready for her to.
I bent down, resting on my knees and looking towards the sea. At this point everything came to a halt, besides the caress of water beneath my feet. Before I could gingerly release Sophie's remains into the ocean, a stroke of wind rocked me forward and I lost my balance. I witnessed her ashes tumble out of the urn and flow into beyond. There she was, scattered in the in the sea, Sophie would be gone forever. All I have left with me is the memories I hid within the shadows, but sometimes the light makes it impossible to find them.
dY8
