Butterfly Keeper // h.s. au

Chapter Twenty Four

He doesn't say anything, and although there's a knowing smile on his lips it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It makes me wonder what could be wrong, everything's perfect. Were together, at the ocean, and the weather is breathtakingly perfect. He notices me watching him though, and the moment our eyes meet he puts on a more 'convincing' smile. I know that it's not entirely real though, and I'm itching to ask him what's wrong.

    "Look," He tells me, and I turn my attention back to the outside world flying by through my window.

    We pass a massive fish shop and a man stands outside of the building with a cart full of assorted fish. My eyes light up as I look out Harry's window and finally spot the expanse of perfect, sparkling, waters. Boats are docked on the wooden ports that go across the water. I watch as two children gallop playfully across the docks, their hair blowing back in the breeze.

    "That's the sound," Harry tells me as the brush takes over my view of the water once more and I'm looking at beach houses again. "It's the peaceful waters, like an inlet. On the right side of the island is the ocean, and that's where the waves are."

    I let out a little squeal when he says the word 'island'. I soak up the information he provides me in amazement, all while never taking my eyes off the scenery around us. I don't want to miss a single thing. We come into the touristy part of the island now, little surf shops on every corner and couples walking the sidewalks hand in hand. You wouldn't think anyone would take a vacation to a place like this in early November but the weather is still surprisingly nice.

    I've only ever been to the ocean twice. Once when I was six and we went on a family vacation to Disney World, (It was really a trip for dad's work but my parents made a stop at Disney so me and Jessica wouldn't fuss.), and then another time with my grandmother who's now passed. She took me to Virginia Beach, I think it was her last gift to me before she passed. She knew her health was deteriorating, and she told me it was for my twelfth birthday present but I knew it was really for the memories. So that I would have something to look back on when she was gone.

    Finally Harry pulls into a concrete parking lot next to a hotel, sand spilling into the end of the lot as it borders the beach. I'm so excited that I could scream at the tops of my lungs and still feel filled to the brim with anticipation and happiness. My eyes land on the sliver of green and blue ocean visible over the sand mound  and I can barely contain myself.

    The minute Harry puts the car in park I'm unbuckling my seat belt and climbing out of the car, my legs feeling a bit wobbly from sitting for so long. The concrete is hot and I can already feel small grains of sand under my toes.

    A second later I hear a car door slam and Harry is sauntering around his side of the vehicle, his feet now bare like mine and his sunglasses are hanging from the neck of his shirt. A small breeze blows his hair back from his face, causing him to crookedly smile at me as he runs his fingers through the silky locks. I approach him and take his hand in mine, tugging on it like an impatient child. He laughs as I drag him over to the opening of the beach, the area just before the sand being marked with signs about riptide safety and others saying to swim at your own risk.

    The minute I feel my toes sink into millions of tiny grains of sand it's like a whole other ocean filled with euphoria washes over me. Memories of walking the length of the ocean at night with my grandmother resurface into my brain, the moon like a shiny quarter in the sky that watched over us as we shared conversations that I'll never forget. Some as deep as the ocean it's self and others filled with our melodies of laughter, lost to the rhythm of the sea.

    I can almost see her out there, as if the waves hold a piece of her that only I can grasp. She was one of the only people besides Jess who really listened to me, she would listen to the way I felt and I didn't feel ashamed to tell her because she was old and wise and knew that to become who you really are you had to make mistakes. I'll always feel as though a piece of my heart is missing ever since she passed, even as I know she's in a better place. I hope I never have to feel that pain again, the kind I felt when I found out she was gone. My heart still clenches at the memory of her, but the waves whisper with each time they crash on the shore, they assure me that she's at peace now.