Under the Ocean

The waves rolled into the shore, crashing and breaking and reflecting my feelings oh-so-perfectly; a mirror of the inside of my heart. I sat with my arms around my knees, chilled though the air had yet to cool, and stared into the ocean like it held all of life's secrets. It probably did.

Nighttime at the beach is always surreal - you can hear the waves, and maybe see the reflection of the moon in the water, but you really can't see what's out there. You can walk to the edge and it feels like you're walking towards the end of the earth, into nothing and everything, where maybe life will make sense. There's always possibilities at the end of the earth - a place that exists solely in the imagination. Even your wildest dreams can come true.

That's what draws me here, night after night. The possibility that maybe something will happen and suddenly the sky will brighten and I’ll be able to see again; see my future written in the water, as plain as if it were printed out on computer paper. 'This is what's going to happen; this is how you're going to react'. I always wish that somehow, something will reach out from the dark and tell me what's coming. So maybe I can be prepared for once.

I only started coming here after him. I guess he can be blamed for these nightly excursions and the dark circles underneath my eyes, getting darker by the day. He said he came to think, every so often. I guess I come now in hopes of seeing him again - just a silhouette even. Just to know if he's still alive.
He was as unpredictable as a lightning strike and twice as lethal. People warned me and I didn't listen. It’s a teenage weakness, I think. I thought I knew everything. I thought he was my savior. He was, for a while.

Savior is a funny word, isn't it? You think this person saved your life, that without them, you'd surely have died. How often is that true? Maybe sometimes the savior helps you die. How would you ever know? Maybe they were so mesmerizing that you didn't realize everything wasn't getting better. They had you hypnotized, making you believe that your life was better because of them. And then they were gone, and you were broken.

And not only are you broken when they leave, but you then realize that the only reason that everything seemed to be better was because of them, and you just want them back so badly. You realize that they were killing you but you can't take the reality that you've been ignoring for so long. All you want is to go back into that pleasant daydream where everything would be okay in the end. In life, nothing is okay at the end. You just want your fairy tale back, where the prince saves the princess and they live happily ever after. The prince isn't supposed to hurt the princess, and he isn't supposed to leave.

The waves are a distant echo in the back of my mind as I see headlights coming down the road, illuminating my perfect darkness. The lights are blinding and I feel like a deer; caught, but I can't move. I hear the familiar almost-breaking-down-but-not-quite sound of the engine and I know it's finally him. My heart races in fear, even though I know this is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what I’ve needed. I need closure.

He stops the car, headlights still putting me in bright focus, and after a second, opens the door. I stand shakily; I’ve pictured this scene so many times, but I never believed it would ever happen. There are so many things that could happen, now, and my heart beats in my throat. Why am I here, why am I doing this? I’m putting myself right back into the spot I’ve tried so hard to get out of. This was a bad idea. I wish I was anywhere but here.

He steps out and walks to the front of his car. The lights behind him create an eerie silhouette, just like what I had so recently hoped to see. He’s alive, I can tell, now I need to get out of here. This is a dangerous game I’m playing, and only in the materialization of this dream do I realize it.

The silence hangs between us, a dark cloud of memories and faded bruises. I want to speak but my voice is caught in my throat. I want to tell him everything I’ve been feeling for the past few months, everything I’ve learned since he's been gone and most importantly, how I am okay without him - how he has no control anymore. But I can't.

The waves are crashing more violently behind me, the wind has picked up. Even though it isn't cold I feel like I’ve been dropped into an icy river. He starts to take a step forward, and I instinctively take a step back. Why did I do that? He has no control, he has no control. All I have to do is remember that, and everything will be fine.

"Remember the first time we came here?"

The words, so sudden, hit me like a brick. His voice reminded me of everything I had lost. What I’ve gained since he left is slipping away, and I feel myself weakening. How could he do that? He can't bring that up. It’s the past, and it doesn't control me. It doesn't control me, it doesn't control me. He has no power over me. Still, the memories that flood my mind bring back the ache that I’ve half-repressed. Even though I deny it, I still want my non-savior. As awful as it sounds, I miss my perfect hell.

Do I remember the first time we came here? Memories flood my brain and better times scream at me from beneath the ocean; beneath my shield of repression. Standing here with him, nothing makes sense anymore and the few fragile strands of my life that I had been able to weave back together in these past few months begin to unravel and choke me from within. I look down and turn away, staring into the abyss and hoping desperately that this would just end, that he would leave, that I’d never see him again. My conscience was on repeat in my mind, reminding me that he had already destroyed me once, and now look – he’s been here for two minutes and I’m already breaking. What a weakling.

Suddenly, I feel him at my side. I involuntarily tense up, inwardly cursing myself as I do, and look towards him. He was standing still over five feet away, respectfully keeping his distance, and staring into the ocean just the way I had been only a few minutes before.

"All of the answers are out there," he said softly, "all of the reasons everything went wrong. Just listen."

I consider him for a second, noticing the subtle changes in his appearance. His hair is shorter, no longer blue but just plain black, and the familiar glint of piercings is nowhere to be found. He knew what I was thinking before I did, as usual, and looked me straight in the eye before I could turn away. I was surprised to see that he looked like he hadn't slept at all in the months that I hadn't seen him. His eyes, while still their token ice-blue, were dulled with a sobriety that I had never seen in him before. He turned towards me and assumed the 'I-don't-care-what-you-think' stance that I knew so well. I winced, remembering that attitude amplified on so many nights just like this one.

He dug his hands into his pockets like they would never end and looked down at the sand, obviously feeling the awkward silence expand toward the point of explosion but not sure what to do to end it. I bit my lip and tried to think of something to say. I knew it was my turn. My turn to show him how I’m different now, how he can't play with my head anymore. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't care if he went and drowned himself in the ocean, trying to lose the impact his eyes had on me, have always had on me. Still, my throat is so dry that I can't even hope to speak, so I turn and look back at the ocean. There must be answers out there. Oh, can't I go out and live in the shadows? Can’t I just run away from this and live beyond the realm of material daylight? Once he was the shadow I was running to and then within a moment, the one I was running from. These memories can't be erased, and seeing him I feel like a scared little girl again, like I can't defend myself against this foe.

Trials of the heart are the worst. It written in all the books, all the wisest people have commented on it; first loves never die. They fade away with time, only to return with frightening ferocity when they are least wanted, the pain appearing without notice and burning you from the inside - a veritable fire in the heart. Would I ever rid myself of him, or would he just keep coming back into my life, over and over again? The worst thing about heartbreak is that the whole time, your heart is just trying so hard to kill the feeling that still holds you captive, but it just won't die. Even though you know that it should be gone, it should have dissipated into the air with the relationship, it isn't and it hasn't. Nothing about love goes the way it should. First loves should never hurt, and lost feelings should stay lost.

Nothing about this meeting is going the way I imagined it - I’m not proving myself capable of handling myself without him as I was so sure I would. Maybe it's because I can't. Maybe in my race towards recovery I somehow lost consciousness and didn't realize that he was in my thoughts every waking - and probably sleeping - moment. His face appears in my dreams more than any other, his voice in my head each day, and no matter how hard I try to silence it, the knowledge is inevitable. First loves don't ever die, and my first love is not even close to death. Even with its poisoned veins and hazy memories it's still alive and well, thriving in my heartache the way only love can.

I stay quiet, letting the silence continue to grow. The waves are smashing so hard against the sand that I wonder how the earth hasn't cracked yet. Are these the answers? Is this violence between the elements supposed to explain the reasons that the world spun out of control? I walk mindlessly to the edge of the water, sinking slightly in the sand and leaving footprints as the only reminders to the world that I was here. The water swirls around my feet and creates little universes of sand and seaweed, instantly destroyed as the waves are pulled back out to where they belong. Each time they reach further up, as if they're trying so desperately to consume derreck and me and adopt us into their sea-kingdom. Maybe under the sea, everything would be the opposite of life on land. Maybe I would be a mermaid princess and he could be my prince and things would never have gotten so out of control. I want that alternate reality, I want my life under the ocean, where I can breathe water and talk to fish and live happily ever after.

I kneel down to touch the little worlds of sand before they are destroyed, trying to save them by keeping them in my grasp. How could God allow such chaos? The sand didn't ask for the world to break into a million pieces each time the waves came, so why is it being punished? For a minute I imagine lives inside the little sand-and-seaweed universe being tossed around in the tiny hurricane with no way to control where they would end up.

Derreck is still next to me, watching as I try so unsuccessfully to rescue the sand from its terrible fate. I can feel his gaze burning holes in my back and try to control my heartbeat the way Jackie taught me. “He doesn't control me” - a mantra now imprinted on my brain like a brand on a cow - becomes a song screaming in my head, just like the ones that used to blare from his car speakers. Humming absentmindedly, I skim my fingers over the water, searching for some sign of life to convince me that anything is possible.

"There’s always tomorrow, but we're leaving tonight," he whispers, and I start at the sound of his voice so close to my ear. I stand and slowly back away, fear evident in my eyes, though I try so hard to mask it. I feel like a salmon must feel when a bear comes close. The blue of his eyes seems to shine hypnotically in the odd lighting. It’s hard to look away. He always did have that power.

"What did you say?" I asked incredulously, unable to believe what I just heard.

"The song," he said uncomfortably, as if suddenly unsure of himself, "you were humming it."

Like a music box wound up, the melody streams through my mind, clearer than if it was being played right in front of me. Old photos, as if my brain was a camera, play on a mental slideshow and I try to ignore it and him and everything all at once. That song stirs feelings that not even his presence could have brought to the surface. Its soft, acoustic whispers open the lock and release the buoy holding my memories captive so far beneath consciousness, and I just can't take it anymore. Oh, why can't I be strong?

How far would I have to run to get to the finish line? How much farther do I have to go to leave him behind? Is this the one race I can't win? I see myself running down the beach, away from him and everything I know as my life flies by, years and minutes passing in seconds. Will I spend my life in a race concentrated on getting away from him? Jackie’s voice sings through my head, telling me over and over that I can't let him control me. I can't let him rule my life. I can't just run away from his memory and I can't lose my life in trying to lose him. I can't, I can't, I can't.

We sit in silence. He's waiting for me to respond, but I just don't know what to say. The lull of the waves has brought me almost into a peacefulness, and I try to hold onto it as long as I can. I ignore the pangs of my heartache and the sounds of what could have been love and concentrate on the salty breeze, growing cooler by the minute. Goosebumps spring up on my arms and I shiver, involuntarily. He looks over, eyes distant as if he wasn't here at all, but somewhere where life was perfect, with a Hollywood ending. Maybe he was in my sea-kingdom, swimming with the fish and falling for beautiful mermaids.

"I’ve been in rehab," he said quietly, "sober for almost three months. It’s surreal, kind of. I’m waking up every morning with less and less cravings, I have a reason to live..." he trailed off, lost in thought, absently drawing circles deep in the sand. I stared at the ground, determined not to care. Sober. Good for him. It doesn't change anything, doesn't change anything, I repeated silently to myself. It won't ever change anything.

"You were it," he said suddenly, still staring at the ground as though it was a CD cover that he hadn't yet memorized, "before."

"It?" the words barely squeaked out of my mouth. I don't want to hear this. Every time he speaks my heart performs its too-familiar screaming dance.

That was what I was so addicted to. It wasn't the drugs, like they all thought, it was him. He was a drug in himself. When we were together, I was alive - whether that was good or bad, I still don't know. After so much time, though, spent in seclusion, withdrawn from the world, being with him was like skydiving for the first time. Sometimes it was scary, sometimes I thought I was going to die, but in the end there was a high so brilliant that it was hard even to see. All I wanted was to do it again - the original terror forgotten because adrenaline had taken over completely. But then, eventually, my parachute didn't open and suddenly the ground was so, so close. All I could do was pray for survival, knowing that if I lived, I’d be disabled for life. And now, by the end, all there is left to do is to sit, "recovering," and think about how it is all my fault. That’s what hurts the most.

They told me not to blame myself. That he had taken my judgment and there was nothing I could have done. They were wrong, always wrong. Your fault, your fault, the breeze whispered airily into my ear. My fault. The guilt hangs heavy over my head, a rain cloud from which I have no umbrella, and I just can't stand the way they look at me. Failure, failure, failure. Their eyes repeat my mistakes in sync every time they're forced to look at me.

"The reason."

Can the world stop revolving? Can two words halt the earth's orbit around the sun, or was it just my heart that stopped? I turned my head away from him and looked towards the ocean, desperate not to blink or show outwardly what was twisting my heart in a death grasp. Is he trying to play with my head again? Through my blurred, too-dry eyes, it looks like the water has stopped moving and the world is at a standstill, waiting for my reply.

"You don't have to answer. I just wanted you to know," he continued, his voice pained, as if this was hard for him.

"Thanks," I said, my voice strained. "I’m glad you're doing better."

"Me too."

We fell silent again, each unsure of what to say. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't seem to get the words out. I dug my bare feet into the cool sand, burying them in little makeshift coffins, searching for my voice. Things had never been this way before. I felt the too-frequent pang in my chest, and wondered why this happened to me. Deep down, I know that there is a part of me that will always want him, always love him. Even the fear hasn't destroyed that. I wish this was over. Sometimes I wish that we'd never met; that I had just continued my life of dulled colors and self-inflicted solitude. The way he lit up my life leaves each new day devoid of brilliance, fading fast into the one before it, until weeks and months blur together as one. Even when everything went wrong, there was a deranged sort of radiance to each day. Will my life ever have that brightness again?

He laid down, hands behind his head, and looked towards the stars.

"Did you ever wonder if there was such thing as fate?" he asked, feigning indifference.

I stared at him, rage finally growing within my chest. "Fate, meaning that we have no control over our lives or actions? Is this another excuse of yours? Are you trying to pretend that everything you did wasn't your fault, that it was all predetermined? I'm not going to take your bullshit any more, Derreck," I snapped, voice tight, losing my temper.

He sighed and sat up, arms draped over his knees. "I'm not trying to excuse my behavior. I know that you don't believe I'm different. I don't expect you to. But you have to give me a chance to tell you where I've been for the last couple of months, what I've done, what I've learned. It's been hard for me too. I just wish you could at least pretend to care," he said, almost pleading.

"Oh, really? Hard for you? What are you doing, trying to get me to pity you? That isn't going to work," I retorted angrily.

"Damn it, Lara, don't you get it? I'm trying to apologize. I'm trying to at least offer you a semi-decent explanation," he said, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to remain calm.

"Explanation? Oh, please, do explain," I said sarcastically.

"Fine," he answered, staring me down, challenging me. "It was all my fault. Everything. Are you happy now? I'm telling you what I know you want to hear. You don't want to hear that there might have been something wrong with me, there might have been factors beyond my control, so I'm not going to tell you that. I'm going to be like the rest of the whole damn world, telling you what I think will make you happy." He paused, calming himself down. "I'm not denying that I'm a terrible person or that you have a reason to hate me. I'm just trying to get you to understand, so maybe you can stop being so angry and finally let go."

I looked up at the stars. It seemed like the heavens were trying to tell me something; there was a code in the sky and I just couldn't see it. There was a reason behind all of this, but I couldn't read it, couldn't comprehend. I knew it was out there, shining brightly, just waiting for me to open my eyes. The breeze whistled past, almost telling me to believe him, to do what he wanted, for both our sakes. Deep beneath my consciousness, I knew he was right.The anger I had been holding onto was useless, the rage was doing nothing but tearing me apart. The counselors were wrong; it wasn't okay to be angry. It wasn't okay to spend my life hating those memories, hating him. It wasn't going to help me, it wasn't making my life better.

"I don't want to hate you," I finally whispered, shoulders slumping in defeat, "and I don't. They tell me it's okay to hate you. That I should. But I can't. There's a part of me that will always remember they way you were."

"The way I am now," he reminded me.

The stars twinkled and shone, reminding me of so many nights like this one. This life was over for me. The moon seemed to laugh mockingly at the twisting emotions trying to destroy me. I looked for the North Star, attempting to find a sign in the constellations. There must be something out there that wants to help me. What can I do to rid myself of the past? As if in response to my dilemma, a falling star crosses the sky and seems to light up the path for me to take. It is the path least wanted, least taken, hardest to travel. The water reflected the moon for a moment and time stood still. This is the decision that could establish the rest of your life, the water cried. Are you choosing the right path? I looked to the side. Seeing Derreck's profile, still hauntingly perfect, was painful. This was the end. The end, the end, the end, the stars sang, this is the end. He looked back at me and we both knew. It was finally time to let this pass, let it wash away in the ocean, let the breeze carry it to a far-off land that we would never visit, never again.

"I don't need you," I told him, the ache in my chest growing with each word.

"You never did," he said, smiling sadly. "You were better than that. You always have been."

He stood and started to walk away, looking down, as if he didn't want to know what was ahead, and my heart ripped into pieces again, littering the sand and flying away with the breeze. Will I ever get them back again, or will my heart be forever lost in the wind? I know that this is final, but some part of be can't accept it. The dying screams of love echo in my ears. Goodbye, goodbye.

I scrambled to my feet and started to take a few steps in his direction, but stopped myself. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

He turned around, his hair casting a ghostly shadow across his face. "No. You shouldn't want to, either. Leave this here, and never come back to it. There’s no tomorrow this time... I'm leaving tonight to go far, far away, as far away from this place as I can get. You’re better off without me," he said, quietly but intensely, pleading with his eyes for me to just move on.

"Goodbye," I whispered, knowing that this was really, finally it. This is what I came for.

His eyes, for the last time, stared into my soul the way only they could. He smiled slightly, and turned to go. I watched his back as he walked through the night, through the bright headlights of his car, throwing one last shadow towards me. He started the car, and I watched him as he reversed and began to drive away from me, from us, from everything that once was, but could never be again. In the darkness, three last words almost floated to my ears. Did I hear them, or was it my delusional mind hearing what I wanted to hear? I listen one last time to his car's familiar coughs and groans, and the sweet melody that I know so well drifts through the air, encircling me in an overwhelming web of loss and nostalgia. The red lights fade into the black, leaving me alone, once again, on the beach. I sighed, and looked towards the ocean, so consumed in night that it was invisible. All it takes is a little faith to know that it's there, I thought, just a little faith.

I walked back to the edge of the incoming tide and stepped in, the cool water surrounding my feet and the sand sinking in, almost throwing me off balance. I don't know how to return to life before Derreck. I don't remember life before Derreck. When I close my eyes I am haunted by his face, I can't listen to music without reliving the nightmares - nothing is the same. The same question plagues my mind night after night, the question that the counselors incessantly needled me about - was it really the drugs that I was addicted to or was it him?

I crouch down, grabbing a handful of sand. I watch as it drips through my fingers, splashing in the shallow water at my feet. Nothing is the same. My life has slipped through the cracks of time and I wonder how I missed so much, how I could have messed up my life so badly to have surrendered all these months to fixing it. My heart aches dully as I search for a sign, a sign to tell me if everything will turn out okay, if I’m close to winning this race. I finally turn away from the call of the ocean waves, walking up the beach towards solid ground, where everything is in terms of black and white. He was good, he was bad. There is no in-between.

With a lingering look at the place where anything was possible and where I could live forever, I step into my car and start the engine. The new car smell replaces the once-comforting salty breeze and the engine hums quietly - so different than his car; the one I’m trying to forget. I shake my head and try to numb the misery that is running through my veins. My headlights illuminate the path before me as I decide to take the long way home. Through the rearview mirror the ocean is brightened in shades of red and I finally see the tide rolling and crashing in its chaotic freedom. The waves vanish from view as I drive so far away from everything I once knew. It’s a long road ahead, but I can do it. "I can do this," I sing to myself, humming the tune of a song once loved, looking back to the blackness behind me and whispering one last goodbye.