Crash Into Me | ✓

one

My sister once told me that "the cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea."

I found that to be a gross overstatement, because I sure as hell knew if I dropped my sister off the dock at the end of the beach and into the Atlantic Ocean, it wouldn't cure her cancer.

But after spending most of my life inhaling the stale, dirt-tasting air of tiny Coatesville, Georgia, I had to admit that getting used to the crisp, early morning ocean breeze was a welcome change.

I slowed my run to a stop and plopped down into the sand, desperate to ease the pounding in my head. I rubbed my temples, silently reminding myself that I was, in fact, not in Coatesville, Georgia anymore. I was 350 miles away, sitting at what felt like the edge of the world, watching the sea glint like diamonds as it melted into the vast horizon. The last time I had even seen an ocean was a blurry, distant memory, but almost overnight it had become my new norm. The expanse of blue and white tossing and turning in front of me made me feel small - smaller than I had ever felt before.

Broken seashells crunched underneath me as I rose to my feet and made my way back up to where the beach met the faded concrete of the street, and I kicked around bits of sand that dusted the pavement the way stars would dot the sky on a clear night.

Our new house sat a block in from the beach. As I trudged up the street, passing tiny, two-story bungalows in a myriad of vibrant colors, I realized how much our house stuck out. It sort of resembled the others on the street, with the same raised foundation and screened in front porch, but white paint peeled off the shutters and front stairs, exposing a layer of worn, splintering wood. Grass and weeds grew tall against the siding, and two palm trees brushed up against the faded gray of the roof. Aunt Mel affectionately referred to it as the "fixer-upper" type, but I knew it was more like the "only thing we could afford" type.

I made my way inside and winced as the screen door closed behind me with a loud creak.

"Nat?" Aunt Mel's voice rang out from the kitchen towards the back of the house, followed by the sound of clattering dishes. "You back?"

I was about to answer when my phone vibrated in my sweatshirt pocket, and my heart took a nosedive into my stomach at the name illuminated on the screen.

KEVIN ROSSI: Please call me Nat. I really need to talk to you.

By talk, Kevin meant taking me on another sordid guilt trip about breaking up with him before I left Coatesville. Granted, it wasn't my most graceful breakup, but nothing about our relationship was graceful. I groaned as I pocketed my phone without answering and shuffled into the kitchen.

"How was your run?" Aunt Mel asked with her back to me, trying to wedge a stack of plastic bowls into the top cabinets. Several boxes were piled precariously on the counter next to the sink, and a few more were stacked on the tiny square wooden table pushed into the corner by the back door.

"Sandy," I sighed as I lowered myself into a rickety chair at the table. "Although I guess sandy is better than dusty...and smelling like horse poop."

Aunt Mel chuckled and went back to haphazardly shoving dishes into the creaky cabinets. A moment of tense silence ballooned in the air, and when she turned back to face me, a painful look flashed across her face. It was gone as quickly as it came, and she tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear as she gave me a pinched smile.

"You ready to go soon?" she asked.

"Shit, that's today?" I groaned, and any attempts to slow my racing heart had evaporated in the salty air.