Page 57 of Crashing Tides

The water races away, then returns. Bits of sand and shell stick to my shoe.

I take a loud, noisy breath. More accurately, it would be called a wheeze, but I don’t feel like being honest with myself today.

Even through the rubber of my boots, I can feel how cold the water is. The air smells of the ocean, which is just a polite way of saying that the entire beach stinks like a dead fish. It would be hypocritical to call it unpleasant, but it’s not the nicest smell in the world, either.

With the toe of my boot, I push some sand into a clump, watch as the water smooths it out. There are tiny, colorful shells hidden in the sand. I stoop to look at them, and they vanish. Did they burrow deeper? Or did the water carry them away?

While I make a fool of myself staring into the sand, Duncan stands sentry, ready to intervene should a large wave happen upon us. His presence puts me at ease, even if my entire face hurts from crying, and I still feel the ache of Jeremy in my chest.

We traverse the beach. Occasionally, I crouch to examine a rock or a bit of seaweed, and Duncan waits patiently. He’s not exactly chatty, but I don’t want chatty right now. The silence is easy, companionable.

Some of the tension in my chest fades.

People and dogs pass us by. Someone makes a joke about my rain boots that makes Duncan glare dangerously. A tiny dog that reminds me of Bruce struts by with an oversized frisbee in his mouth, and I am abruptly homesick.

Bruce hates water. Bruce would hate the beach.

I wish he was here with me, anyway, snarling at unsuspecting ankles and splashing through the waves.

God, he’d hate Duncan. It would be so fucking adorable.

We pass a piece of driftwood. More accurately, it’s a tree trunk, but it’s worn smooth with time. Duncan sits and I join him.

Eventually, the silence goes on too long and I get fidgety. “Thanks,” I say finally. “For coming with me. It’s been a shitty day, but this was nice.”

The sun is starting to set, just a wispy hint of pink in a blue sky. Dark waves glitter below.

“Yeah? What happened?”

I squirm. I probably shouldn’t talk about it. I shouldn’t open up to strangers. Duncan’s going to judge me.

On the other hand, I’ll take any opportunity I can to throw Jeremy under the bus. “Ex-boyfriend called to tell me he’s getting engaged to the guy he cheated on me with,” I grumble, hoping I sound angry instead of on the verge of tears. If I cry again today, my eyeballs are going to fall out.

Duncan’s jaw drops. “What the fuck?” he exclaims. It’s almost a growl.

I kinda dig it. The pain is almost worth it when Duncan looks like that, stunned and angry on my behalf.

“How long were you together? Did he call you just to tell you that?” he demands. I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare, the sharp downturn of his lips, the faintest hint of too-sharp incisors.

I shrug. “A little over two years. And yeah. He said he didn’t want to me to find out through social media.” I shrug again, because I’ve started and now I can’t stop. “He just wanted to gloat.”

“What a dickhead,” says Duncan with surprising vigor.

I shrug again. My shoulder is definitely glitching out.

“No wonder you smell sick,” he muses, and that gets my attention. I should probably be uncomfortable that he can walk past me and know how I’m feeling, maybe even what I’m thinking.

But it’s kind of reassuring. In time, it will probably come to annoy me, but right now, I feel kinda special. Even if he does this to everyone, he’s still choosing to pay attention to me, and it’s… nice.

Fuck.

“Listen,” he says. “I hope this isn’t weird, but do you wanna get something to eat? Or drink? Not like a date or anything, but you….” He frowns, like the words are coming out all wrong. “You look like you could use a break.”

I’m not hungry at all, but I’ve barely eaten today. He’s probably right.

We make our way back to the car. I don’t trust the ocean at my back, afraid it could sneak up on me, drag me away kicking and screaming.

Another part of me hates to leave it behind. The longer I spend in its presence, the more I appreciate the screech of the gulls, the lapping of the tides, the laughter of happy families.