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I don’t get it. I hope God does. But, I have my doubts.
I take a step forward along the edge of the shore, my toes brushing the edge of cool water as it rolls onto the sand. I took my socks off and left them where we were talking. Now that he’s not here, I don’t much care about my ugly toes, although I’d stilllove to get that pedicure. “He loves me. He wants me. He loves me not. He wants me not.”
This is ridiculous. I’ve been here what, two days? And I’m already falling for the next older guy who shows me attention. Attention he is obligated to show because that’s what he does but, the other parts, the kiss, the ‘I’m your safe place’, blah blah, is that all an act too? Part of the program?
My journal is open, and I’m writing as I think and walk and mutter to myself.
The only question he wrote down before he rushed off, was more an assignment than a question.
Without judgment, write down thoughts as they come. Anything, serious, funny, impossible, secrets…. Don’t over think it, just let your consciousness go onto the paper through the pen. A good pen helps, that’s why you have that pen. Fill at least two pages, more if your mind is opening up. Just let it flow.
For the first time in a long time I’m doing just that. I’m just letting it come out. I’m writing down every thought in my head, about how it felt to be touched by him, admitting that I was thinking of him when I masturbated yesterday, admitting that I’ll be thinking of him when I do the same later.
Things about Baby, how I feel guilty that I’m not thinking about her every second.
I know I’m going to have to tear some of these pages out and throw them in the sea. Or eat them. Or burn them.
But right now, I don’t care. I need to write down what I’m thinking like Father Martin said, without judging myself. I need to get it out but I don’t want him reading it.
He’s right, I suppose. Why did I think I could have what I wanted? It’s selfish. He has a life and a career, and the last thing he needs is me. Why would I even think I could compete with his spiritual calling? If I was sent here by the devil to turn a priest to the dark side, I was doomed to fail right from the start.
“He loves me not,” I say finally, stopping by a clutch of rocks sticking up out of the shallow water and sticking out to sea for a few feet like a runway.
The sea has swelled, the waves spraying up mist and getting louder while I’ve been walking, the wind whipping them up, making foam along their tops, but I don’t hate them. Sure, I can’t swim, but while I’m here on the sand I’m safe.
I could go around the rocks, but some whim takes me and instead I climb up, teetering a little. I stick my arms out for balance, then step up from the lowest rock to the large runway-platform on top. It’s not that high, but a gust of wind blows against me and I laugh out loud, feeling a bit like Rose in that scene in Titanic, flying as I step forward, then forward again.
The waves crash against the rocks, and I gaze down into water but it’s too murky to see the bottom. Brave of me, to face my fear a little.
“He loves me,” I say into the wind, head back, eyes closed. My mind echoes back withhe loves me notbut I ignore it.
I won’t say it out loud. For one second I want to believe.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter as the wind catches me with a powerful gust, whipping up from the left instead of the front, salty water splashes on my legs, around my bare feet, into my eyes.
I wobble, fear lancing through me but I’m okay.
I’m. Okay.
Turning, I measure my steps with wet feet on the slick rock. I’m proud of myself, I’d have never done something like this before Father Martin. Before…I don’t know, finding a bit of my old self again. It’s the start of something, I feel it down in my marrow, but daring the sea to swallow me off this rock is not in the plan, so I take it slow, heading to the down slope of the big rock and slide my foot forward.
The wind comes around with a harder gust, a wave crashing around me. My balance is off, I lean forward then back a little, but my feet are going, I know what’s about to happen and I’m powerless to stop it.
My dress catches in the breeze and flips up over my hips, flashing my ass as I lunge forward, shifting my weight as best I can toward the shore and away from the water.
With eyes closed, I wait for the impact of my body breaking on the sharp rocks below, but the final connection of my toes with the solid granite is gone.
It feels like forever as I fall, wondering what bones I will break first then, there’s a splash, and I’m engulfed in the cool fizzing water.
It’s up over my head in an instant, closing in around me like a heavy, wet blanket. I flail and panic, gasping as salty water stings my eyes and makes me gag. It’s darkness everywhere.
Am I drowning? Is this my worst fear come true?
Why am I not more afraid? Why is it all…so quiet?
Baby, I’m sorry. I’ll never find you now. We can’t save each other anymore, I hope you know how much I loved you…
And then I feel arms around me, tugging me from the water. Strong arms. A man’s arms. And somehow, I know who they belong to.
