Once he got over the disorientation, which took under fifteen seconds, he swam to the surface and saw he'd been pulled out quite a few feet. As he reached the shore, he wondered what exactly caused these freak sized waves once in a while. Most of them he'd seen from a safer distance than the vulnerable spot he'd seen this one from. He'd gathered them to be about seven or eight feet in height, just random large waves.
The sun was beginning to descend downwards toward the horizon. It was that time of the day and season when the weather feels perfect. Warm and gentle, the lighting just starting to soften from the sun's low angle. The wind was blowing from the island towards the shore on this side of the island, and with it brought the scent of flowers and grass, trees and greenery. As the sun dried him off, he walked along the shoreline quietly, picking up pieces of sea glass as he strolled.
A brown piece of sea glass in the shape of a toenail reminded him of IBC rootbeer bottles. His dad would buy them special for holiday meals. A clear piece of sea glass in the shape of a heart reminded him of an energy drink he'd drank too much of at his 16th birthday party. The hall his father rented was practically empty, just 3 of the 10 kids he'd invited had shown up. His Uncle, his dad's brother, was there... as well as his grandparents from his mother's side of the family, but in his young mind they didn't count and neither did his uncle. In his jittery, energized state, he'd spent most of the night pacing the dancefloor counting out loud and naming the people who didn't show up. Then he'd gotten pretty quiet and sat down to drink coffee with the adults and the 3 kids who did show up. Somehow, even the 3 that did show up didn't seem to count or matter. He couldn't even remember their names.
But he could name each person, first and last, who did not show up.
"How could I think they didn't count," Ed wondered aloud and shook his head at himself. Reaching down to pick up another piece of sea glass, he wondered about the person who had held the glass before him. Maybe it was a beautiful woman his age, and maybe her lips had touched the bottle rim slowly, her thirst quenched with every sip. Maybe it was one of the fishermen that died on the boat he'd been on.
Maybe it had been his Uncle, or one of his grandparents that didn't matter. Or a friend who didn't count.
Maybe it was his glass bottle that this glass was from... maybe it was from his own bottle a sharp, cutting piece of glass found its way to the ocean and was tumbled along on salty currents to this shore that he now found himself upon.
He looked up at the sky to where the billboard would blink on later tonight. He settled into the sand and watched the sunset, and prepared to wait for his only connection to the world he hadn't been a part of... to the world he wished now he could go back to and apologize.
Posted by nft at June 18, 2004 07:15 PM