The Hardest Sunrise

Lyndsi Morgan had always loved the beach. Even when she was a small child. Her parents would take her there with her older brother every Saturday. Nothing made her parents more happy then to see her smiling face.

The beach where they lived was nothing special. Mostly oddly shaped rocks, most jagged and ragged, with only little dips and patches of sand. Driftwood and racks of kelp were scattered about. On the far side of the beach there was an old wooden dock bobbing up and down in the gentle waves.

Lyndsi didn’t care about the shabbiness of the beach. It was the smell of the briny sea and the gentle wind that blew through her hair that made her eyes brighten, and her smile widen. She always looked at the seagulls in amazement as they flew overhead. Taking off from their grassy perches and disappearing somewhere in the middle of the ocean.

“Mama look!” Lynsdsi would cry, pointing at the birds. Her parents would smile at her, but didn’t mean it. If it were Lyndsi’s older brother, her parents would have looked sternly at him and said

“Stop looking at the birds. They’re dirty and vile, disease ridden creatures.”

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan took great care not to upset their daughter. She was very weak and got sick easy. She spent most of the week cooped up in her house.

Four days of the week were spend indoors, Saturday at the beach, Sunday she went to church, and every Tuesday she checked in with a nurse at a local hospital. It was just a weekly check up, and her parents told Lyndsi that it was nothing really and not to worry. She’d get better real soon.

To the outside world it looked like the Morgan’s loved their daughter very much. That was not so. They were getting tired of having to take care of their sick daughter, who even though had the best medication they could get her, never seemed to get better.

When Lyndsi’s brother was old enough to take care of Lyndsi, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan left town on a “vacation” to a far away place. An island somewhere near the equator. Their “vacation” lasted for six years. When they left Lyndsi was nine. Their children never received a letter or a postcard from their parents.

“Ian.” Lyndsi called out to her brother. He was in the other room of the house their parents had left to them.

“Yes Lyndsi, what is it?” Ian answered his sister, worried that something had happened. Since their parents had left, Lyndsi’s condition had slowly deteriorated. And her fifteen year old self had barely left her bedroom in the past month.

Poking his head around the corner he saw his sister propped up on her pillows. The TV was on, but she wasn’t paying attention to the scenes playing across the screen.

“Could you get me some water, please?” Lyndsi remembered to be polite. Her parents always taught her to be polite to others.

“Okay, anything else?”

“Can we go to the beach?” Ian, having been worried for his sister, hadn’t taken her to the beach for a long time. He worried that the strong winds and overly salty smell would not help her condition.

“Not today.” That’s what he told her every Saturday. They had stopped going to church on Sunday. Even though they did not attend, the holy people still cared for them, giving Ian and Lyndsi food and money when needed. They were always up for charity.

She nodded her head, and closed her eyes. Ian went to get water from the sink in the kitchen. It was a tiny thing. He could almost touch the opposite walls at the same time. The wooden cabinets were chipped and the paint on the walls was peeling and faded.

He had to run the water for a few minutes because the water was a mucky brown color to begin with. The city’s water wasn’t the cleanest, but it was still drinkable.

Retching coughs came from the other room. Ian dashed into his sister’s room. It wasn’t the first time she had started to violently cough like that.

“I’m fine.” She said, falling back onto her pillow.

“Should I fetch the doctor? It sounds like it’s getting worse.”

She shook her head.

“No I’m fine, I don’t like the doctor. He always brings needles, and those shiny things that he pokes and prods me with.”

His brow crinkled in frustration. How would she ever get better if she kept complaining about the stuff that would help her. He couldn’t even bring his friends around anymore because of Lyndsi and the coughs that wracked her whole body. Ian even had to drop out of school to take care of her. Even though he sometimes couldn’t stand taking care of her, he would never just up and leave her like his parents.

He sat down on the edge of her bed and move a couple strands of hair away from her blue green eyes. Her eyes were like the sea on a good clear day.

Suddenly her eyes rolled back and her body started convulsing. He ran to find the phone. An hour later their doctor arrived and went to take a look at Lyndsi. His hands were shaking, and he wished that the doctor would hurry up. What was taking so long? He should have taken her to the nearest hospital sooner. When more doctors arrived and they did take her to an emergency room, she wasn’t moving. He feared that she was dead. The worst was swirling around, taking over his mind.

The doctors and nurses wouldn’t let him see her until later and when they did, the first words out of her mouth were “Hey.”

She turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Am I going to die here?” It seemed that she had come to a realization of sorts. She probably always knew that she was sick. Her body had grown more frail every day, and now it was like fragile spun glass. It could break at just the smallest touch.

“What if tonight I come get you out of here? I know that you don’t want to spend more than a day in here. We can go to the beach. I know you love the beach.” For a while Ian could only hear her shallow breathing and the horrid beeping of the machines she was attached to.

“You promise?” He nodded his head, and she closed her eyes. Soon to be asleep. One of the nurses walked into the room and ushered him out.

Ian came back around midnight, his intent to break her out. Surprisingly enough it was easy to enter and leave. He carefully unhooked the wires and life supporting machines, and delicately lifted her onto his back. It would be the easiest way to carry her. Lyndsi, even though she was fifteen, was so light, just like a child. All night Ian carried her through the dusty unkempt streets. The starts twinkled above, oblivious to the two figures. Occasionally Ian could hear a deep content sigh escape his sister.

Her happiness made him smile, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he knew that she was smiling too. When Ian’s legs started to get tired he walked down to the floating dock and sat on the edge. Pulling her off his back he cradled her to his chest, pushing her chestnut hair away from her face, and behind her ears.

“You remember this place? We’re at the beach. Remember you used to come here with mommy and daddy. We’d dig our toes in the sand and hop over the waves, making a game of it. And then when the day ended we would always watch the sunset together. Just the four of us. You remember that?”

The sun was starting to rise staining the sky red and pink, mirrored by the ocean.

“It’s not a sunset, but doesn’t it look pretty? Just like you remember, right?”

Lyndsi lay limp in his arms, a smile on her small face.