Fluke (39 page)

I sighed and accepted that I just wasn’t sure what the next move was.
 
Sara probably wouldn’t be home until almost six, so I had almost five hours to work through my thoughts.
 
Hopefully the answers would come, and everything would be okay.

I moved into the living room and flipped on the Weather Channel.
 
The forecast scrolling across the bottom of the screen called for a cloudy day over Hazel Beach, and a northerly wind would keep things relatively cool.

It sounded like a nice day to take a walk on the beach to me.
 
Not too hot as to create much discomfort with my sunburn, and cool enough that I could wear long pants to hide my grotesquely effected legs.
 
I’d continue my thinking on the beach, my favorite place in the world.

I headed for the bedroom to change, thinking that the problem with a dispute inside one’s own head is that one tends to lose the objectivity needed to resolve said dispute; I could manipulate everything in my head to make it good or bad, right or wrong, and it solved nothing.
 
I needed someone to talk to.
 
Someone who could look at the situation from the outside and tell me what it looked like.

After dressing in a pair of cargo pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, I made a phone call, and hopped in the Civic, beach bound.

“Jesus, Fluke.”

Heather sounded mildly shocked, and I guess I couldn’t blame her.

We sat on a wooden step at the base of a beach entrance, smoking and sipping the cappuccinos we picked up at
Perc’s
on the drive to the beach.
 
It was indeed cloudy and cool out; the weatherman had been right, which was an all-too-rare occurrence.

Aside from Heather and I, the beach was deserted; of course, I had driven us to a fairly remote stretch of the coast.
 
To the right, I could spot an area of pastel colored condos approximately a mile away, and to the left was nothing but beach as far as I could see.
 
It had been a bit of a drive to get to this spot, but I didn’t feel like seeing any people, and Heather didn’t mind the distance.

She had seemed surprised to hear from me and even more surprised when I asked her if she’d be interested in a walk on the beach.
 
She didn’t hesitate to say yes, even after I warned her that she may have to listen to me ramble about Sara.

“We’re friends, Fluke.
 
Remember?” she asked me.
 
“That’s what friends do, you know.”

So I picked her up, and we drove to the beach.
 
The drive was mostly small talk, her asking about my trip to Texas, me asking her about life at Perry’s.

“Something bothering you?” she asked me.
 
Her intuition was pretty good; I had been acting pretty normal in the car.

“Well,” I started.
 
“Let’s get to the beach.”

We sat down on the wooden step
for over an hour
, and I told her everything.

I left nothing out; I started with that last pizza delivery and finished with the dream of begging Sara not to leave.
 
I told her about the trances, I told her about the near-pregnancy, and I told her about finding my father.
 
I told her about how my father molested Sara.
 
And I told her how my father wasn’t the horrible monster that I had expected.

That’s when she had said, “Jesus, Fluke.”

“I’m sorry to dump all of this on you, Heather,” I said, worn out from reliving my entire relationship with Sara in an hour of conversation.
 
“I just…I just needed to tell someone, I guess.”

“I’m going to suppress my urge to ask you why you felt like I should be that someone,” she said.
 
“Instead, I’m just going to say something very profound here: That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah, Heather, it is,” I agreed.
 
“And I have no idea what’s going on with Sara and I now.”

“You haven’t talked about anything at all since you got back from Texas?”

“Nothing serious,” I answered, sliding off my sandal and digging my toes in the cool sand.
 
It felt glorious.
 
“She acts distant, removed.
 
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been sick or not, but it’s got me all worked up.”

“Well, it seems like you both went through some pretty traumatic stuff in Texas,” she commented.
 
The cool breeze came from behind us, causing her hair to blow into her face.
 
She reached into the pocket of her jeans and came out with a ponytail holder, which she used to pull her hair back out of her face.
 
“Maybe she doesn’t know how to deal with this any more than you do, Fluke.”

“She knows how to deal with everything, Heather.
 
She’s the strong one, the one who carries us both,” I said, miserably, again struck with that reality.

“That doesn’t make her exempt from confusion, Adam,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration.
 
“She’s a human being.
 
And, she just found out that her boyfriend was spawned by a man who did some awful shit to her when she was a kid.
 
That would make anyone stop and think about things.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“I don’t think you do, Adam.
 
You’ve got to support her through this.”

“I’ve been sick, and I don’t know if she even wants me to,” I mumbled.

She glared at me.
 
“The first thing you better do if you want this to work is quit whining.
 
And get rid of that self-pity, boy.”

Her words stung, but I knew she was right.
 
I had become so reliant on Sara to be the strong one, and so insecure in my own half
of the relationship, that I wasn’t doing anything but acting like a pathetic little kid.

“I know I’m wallowing, Heather, but I’m almost…I’m almost scared to try and get in her again.
 
What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

“You think she’ll want you if you just lay there and watch the relationship crumble around you?”

“No, I guess she wouldn’t.”

“Damn right she wouldn’t.
 
I know I wouldn’t.”

I slid off my other sandal and looked out at the gray skies, following the bases of the clouds to the horizon, where they met the water.
 
The waves were nearly flat, which was normal for this part of Florida, and the water looked inviting.
 
I made an offhanded comment about wishing I had brought my swimsuit.

“It’s a little cool for swimming, Fluke.”

“All that water,” I mumbled.

“Adam,” Heather said, turning to face me.

“Yes?” I continued staring at the water, the rippling, shifting surface of the water.
 
It was mesmerizing, and I caught myself starting to drift off as I watched.
 
It wasn’t sleep I was drifting toward, but some sort of state of relaxation.
 
Maybe some kind of trance.

“You’ll be okay,” she said.
 
“No matter what happens with Sara, you’ll be fine, you know?”

I heard her talking to me, and I felt her rest her hand on my knee.
 
I knew she was right there, staring at me, trying to comfort me, but I felt myself becoming removed.
 
I watched the surface of the water, a deep, swelling, rolling sheet of aqua, and I imagined that I was floating on my back in it, sinking down into it.
 
It was relaxing.

“Maybe there is no problem, Heather,” I said, staring at the rolling humps in the water.
 
Not quite waves, but enough to raise me and lower me gently as I floated and sank.
 
I pictured myself rising and lowering on the humps, keeping my arms and legs perfectly still, letting the flow of the water move me.
 
I smiled at the picture of me in the water and watched myself sink beneath the surface.
 
“Maybe I’m just making it all up.”

“No, Adam, there’s trouble there, and you two need to deal with it,” she replied.

I came back into my own body again, no longer floating on or submerged in the water, just sitting on the step.
 
I glanced down at Heather’s hand, resting on my left knee.
 
I wondered briefly if she was conscious of her hand on me, but I said nothing.
 
To be truthful, it felt comforting.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Heather didn’t say anything, and I stood up, vaguely aware of
the
popping noises coming from my knees.
 
My eyes returned to the water, and I imagined how cool it must have been, and how good it might feel on my skin, which had a constant, irritating itch to it.
 
I wanted nothing more than to be in that water, feeling myself floating.
 
I started walking toward the water.

“Where are you going?” I heard Heather ask.

I didn’t answer.
 
I just kept walking, feeling the sand shifting under my feet.
 
I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it.
 
I wanted to be on the water; I wanted to be under the water.

“Fluke!” Heather called.

The sky was starting to get dark, and the smell of salt in the air filled my head.
 
I thought about Sara and the night we sat on the beach.
 
I had been very close to telling her I loved her that night.
 
She had told me that she was nuts about me.
 
It was a perfect night on the beach, the waves breaking in a low crash, the seagulls puttering along the sand.
 
I didn’t make it into the water that night; all I wanted to do was hold Sara, and that’s all I did.
 
Tonight was different.

I felt my feet continuing to move forward, and I realized that I wasn’t really controlling them.
 
I was letting my body do what it wanted, and I was aware that it wanted to be submerged in salt water.

“Sara, where are you?” I whispered as I unbuttoned my pants and let them slide down my legs.
 
I stepped out of them and hit the cool, wet sand at the edge of the water.

“Adam!” Heather yelled behind me.
 
“Shit!”

My boxers came off, and I was in the water.
 
I kept walking, knee deep, thigh deep, then up to my chest.
 
The water was cold, or at least, I felt like it should be cold.
 
I didn’t feel cold, though.
 
I felt something close to relief.
 
My heart pounded against my chest, and I closed my eyes and let my knees buckle.

I was underwater, holding my breath.
 
My eyes were open, but the darkness was impenetrable, and I closed them.
 
The only sounds were the muffled water in my ears.
 
I curled my body up into a fetal position and just allowed myself to sink.

It feels so safe in here
, I thought.
 
There is nothing but water and me.
 
I could stay here.

My lungs were starting to ache when I felt hands on my arms.
 
They were grabbing me and pulling me up.
 
My head broke the surface of the water, and I planted my feet under me.

“Goddammit, Fluke, what the hell is wrong with you?” Heather was shaking me.

I reached up and moved my hair, which was plastered to my face, and rubbed my eyes.
 
I ran my tongue over my lips, relishing the taste of the saltwater on my skin.

Heather stood in front of me, still fully clothed.
 
Her hair was in the same condition as mine, and I used my hand to move it out of her face.
 
Then I wiped the water from her tan forehead.
 
She looked at me, exasperated.

I recognized her exasperation and felt another wave wash over me, only this one was built from sadness instead of water.
 
What was I thinking, doing this to Heather? I brought her to the beach for a friendly chat, dumped all of my “baggage” on her, and then this.
 
She waded out to shoulder deep water, with all of her clothes on, to pull me up.
 
She didn’t deserve this; nobody deserved this.