Every Ocean

Chapter 3

For the past two nights, I had found myself in the same spot at 2am. I now refer to the bench on the pier as "my bench" because I seem to be the only one that accompanies it in the early hours. Wednesday rolled around, a day before the wedding. I woke up a little later this morning; procrastinating due to the list of jobs Mum had left me to do today. There was only three or four on there, but I knew the jobs wouldn't be little, and me not doing them wouldn't be taken lightly. Last night I found myself reading on the pier, starting at my usual time (2am) but getting home a little later than I had anticipated. Walking through the door at 6am, I bumped into Steve on his way out.

Reaching for the door handle, I heard movement from the other side, but choosing to ignore it I went ahead and walked in anyway. There was a loud bang, followed by an "ow!" and the image of Steve lying lopsided on the floor still haunts me. There he laid, shoelaces still in hand from when he knelt down to fasten his trainers, before I abruptly knocked him onto his arse. This was when I discovered that his day started at 6am every morning, as he went out to jog along the beach. Our awkward encounter ended with, "don't want to join me do you, early bird?" and my reply being a slow, "oh... no... thanks. Maybe another time." I don't know why I said that, because I could never picture myself up at 6am on a jog, let alone with Steve. I left him thinking that I simply wanted a little fresh air, and that I casually went on a morning stroll. Running up the stairs as quietly as I could, I longed to sleep for another few hours before waking up to the list of jobs I had. I was just thankful Steve's fall hadn't brought anyone else out of there slumber.

My breakfast consisted off a peanut butter and raisin cereal bar, and not even a quarter glass of orange juice. I did plan to make cereal but once I had opened the cupboard, the only box there was Moor's Chocolate Squares, and the idea of starting my morning off feeling sick didn't appeal to me. To add to that, there was about an ounce of milk left, anyway. Me feeling lazy, (due to my early hour book club session by myself on the pier and therefore, lack of sleep) the two minutes I had to wait for toast to pop seemed like it would take too long, so I grabbed the last cereal bar and headed to the fridge for juice. Mum clearly hadn't done the shopping due to her wedding panic, and neither had Steve for that matter, so as I tipped the carton upside down above my glass, orange juice spluttered out for a good two seconds before the remainder of it came dripping out slowly. Great, I moaned. As though I was a scavenger, I hurried up to my bedroom clinging onto the orange juice I needed so much; hoping that a child won't appear wanting the left of it.

Throwing my head against my bed frame, I sat back, chewing on the last mouthful of the salty goodness. Once the juice had gone as well, I stared at the closed curtains that blocked the sea view, wishing it to be night time again so I could go back to my spot. Nothing stopped me from going in day time, but I couldn't bear the thought of some child sitting on my bench, before dropping their ice-cream or an old man leaving chips on it for the gulls. Yuck.

My mind wandered off to the thought of my Mum getting married in just over thirty hours, and I chuckled at how happy she is, excluding all the panic, including swearing and tantrums (which would only ever last a few seconds, before she panicked at her panicking saying "no time to waste! No time to panic!")

Right after my first encounter with Paula and Beverly, I began rushing back home to accompany Mum to the (only) wedding dress shop in this town, only to have her ring me back changing her mind- telling me I had to meet her there. Bearing in mind, I had to walk there with no directions from her (just the great advice of "just Google it"), shopping bags still swinging off my arms and my phone already running out of battery. How?

The map app on my phone saved me, even though I did take a few wrong turns and ended up at the shop fifteen minutes after the written arrival time. But, I suppose that, it wasn't the apps fault technically. The town was bigger once walking to the other side of it let me say that. Finally, the glittery sign Dream Dresses By Anastasia was hanging above me, and the view of my Mum twirling around in a large white gown filled my eyesight. Excited, I burst through the door (a little too loudly, apparently, judging from the scowl of a large old woman sat in the corner holding a giant piece of fabric and in the other hand a measuring tape), keen to see what my Mum looked like. Seeing the, what I thought to be, white dress up close revealed that it was actually a musky grey colour, so my smile dropped. Who would choose that as the dress they want to wear on their wedding day? Immediately, I had a mini heart attack picturing Mum walking down the aisle wearing it.