Beside

59 - fray

"Fox, I want to stop-stop crying now. I'm-I'm tired."

"Come here...There. You okay?"

"Obviously not!"

"Oh. Umm..."

"Make me laugh!"

"Well, you asked for it. Get ready for the tickle monster—"

"Ah! Fox-Fox stop! Stop!"

"You're laughing!"

"FOX! AH!"

ｃｈｒｉｓ

Salt of the Pacific. Blue eyes of mind. Oh, how the sand loves the sea.

The ocean is endless before me, waves crashing in whispers before retreating, too shy to stay. The shoreline stretches out in both directions, breathing and enduring. The sand is cool under my legs, damp and gritty from where the tide kissed it hours ago.

It's morning, the sun peeking an eye over the horizon, checking to see who's watching before rising. I lift a hand and wave slowly. It's me again, sorry it's been a while.

Half Moon Bay. The world here feels old, or maybe it's me.

I roll the stone in my hands, my fingers tracing the smooth surface, cool and solid. Black and glassy. Jed's gift. I've been waiting for a sign, for a whisper, for the glimpse of light I once saw inside.

A gull cries overhead, drifting on the seaweed breeze that slips around me in gusts, tugging at my hair, curling around my bare arms.

A soft crunch draws my attention to the sand beside me. Whitney lowers herself down, rubbing her eyes, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pink petal pants. She pulls her knees up and rests her arms on them, looking at the water. The sun blushes pink at Whitney's presence, smiling shyly.

The memory of the taxi ride is as bitter as saltwater.

It started with Whitney's arm around my shoulders as we slid into the back seat. I told myself I wouldn't cry in front of the driver, but I couldn't stop it. My ribs shook with every breath. I choked out words I couldn't keep in. "Cam's gonna think I left her. She's gonna think I'm—I'm—horrible."

"No one thinks that," Whitney had said. "We're calling her as soon as we're at the airport. I'll tell her." But the panic stayed until the cab pulled up at Departures.

Whitney took the plane tickets from me, the ones from Paps and Dad, and she did most of the talking at the counter. My throat burned. I couldn't focus.

It wasn't until we were at the gate, waiting to board, that we found a payphone and she dialled the number she knew by heart. She told Cam—and Jed, who joined the call—that we didn't abandon her, that we were coming back. Promise.

Whitney bought me melatonin at the Goldwen Gift Shop near gate 78B. I took the pills with shaking hands, washing them down with water, and leaned against her shoulder as we boarded.

I remember the drone of the engine, the sinking gut feeling of take-off, and the dreamless black that swallowed me whole.

Landing in California was like surfacing from deep water, gasping and disoriented. The bus ride to Half Moon Bay was quiet, the scenery passing in slow, muted waves. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the coastline blur into the horizon.