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“Jake, I miss you so much. I don’t want to live without you,” the familiar refrain echoed.
“You won’t always be alone,” he’d murmur in her ear, the dream so realistic she could feel his breath on her flesh.
But the dreams got progressively scarier, however, over time, more like nightmares. Walking on the beach on a sunless day, the sand a flat, one-dimensional grid like a Salvador Dali painting, she’d suddenly trip over his body, reminiscent of the scene inJawswhere the mangled body of a young girl lay with seaweed tangled in her hands.
Or in that stage between sleep and awakening, she’d feel his weight on her body, his knee wedging her legs apart. It wouldn’t be until she reached up to embrace him that she’d realize it was a ghost, the flesh cold and clammy. He wasn’t there. The apparition was only her longing for him. Jake was dead.
Screaming in her sleep became a nightly occurrence until her parents begged her to see a professional, but it didn’t really help. She was simply grieving.
The time came when a decision had to be made about her moving into the place they’d bought together. First, there was a fight in court with Jake’s parents, to establish that it was her house. And she was the beneficiary of his life insurance, which paid off the balance of the mortgage. Moving into the house alone solidified his absence. She’d never lived alone before.
“Maybe once you make it your own, you’ll feel more comfortable there,” Isabella said, looking around uncertainly.
Except for a few family pieces her father had given Sofia, and her books, the house was a clean slate, as stark as a monastery.
Then the doubts about her relationship with Jake started, Sofia waking up each morning, questioning what its substance was, thinking about the supposed glue that had held them together. She questioned the perpetuity of their relationship, as though Jake were a space-keeper, just there to take up time in her life until he wasn’t available any longer.
And then one day, her cousin Oliver said something that helped her gain some clarity. They’d run into each other in the middle of the day. She had just left a client’s office, and he was picking up his dry cleaning on his day off when they saw each other.
“You have time for a beer with your cousin?” Oliver asked, hugging her with one arm, cleaning bags over his shoulder.
“I’d love to have a beer with you,” she said.
It was late April and the winter rains were finally subsiding. Life slowly returned to the beach communities, and Sofia was barely beginning to feel human again. They sat outside at Barnacle Ben’s. Few boats were in the water that early, and on that cool day, the wind blowing her hair, the sailboat halyards clanging, Sofia missed Jake with an emptiness in her chest that burned like fire.
“So how are you doing now?” he asked. “It hasn’t been a year yet, right? I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”
“I accept that being without Jake for another summer is going to be rough. After we met, I never gave summer a thought. I knew what we would do every day. He’d put the board up on top of his car and we’d go to the beach.”
“Jake was quite the surfer,” Oliver said. “He was amazing to watch.”
“He really was. Since I met him, I based my life on watching Jake surf.”
They looked out over the water, drinking their beers, thinking of the striking figure he’d made out on the water.
“You and Jake were the perfect couple—the surfer dude and the California gurl.”
He sang a line from Katy Perry’s song.
“Ha! What are you talking about?” Sofia asked, charmed but laughing. “I am the antithesis of the California beach blonde. But you’re sweet for saying that. It was more because he was so gorgeous. Jake looked like an underwear model.”
“He did. But you’re pretty ravishing yourself,” Oliver said, grinning.
“Aw, again, I don’t feel like it, but I appreciate it.” She found the courage to confess to Oliver. “I’m still struggling with why we were together in the first place.”
Stunned that she couldn’t see it, Oliver got serious. “It was clear when you were together that Jake was madly in love with you. Passionately. I love Wendy, don’t get me wrong. But when we’re together, I’m not sure the whole room knows. When you and Jake were together, everyone knew he loved you. It made the elders nervous, like he was going to throw you down and commit acts of perversion at Sunday dinner.”
“You’re nuts,” she said, laughing out loud.
“Seriously, Sofia, Jake loved you. You were together because you loved each other. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. If anyone has made you question his love for you, don’t allow that person into your life.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I’m so morose. I keep trying to justify why we were together and then why this happened. But what difference does it make? He’s dead. I won’t waste any more time wondering why we were together.”
“It’s the great enigma. You’ve definitely been through enough for a while.”
“I’m sorry I’m whining.”
“You were always a whiner. Now you have something to whine about.”
