Wavebreak Heartache

I love the beach.

I chew a bit of black licorice absinthe mindedly, a salty sea breeze ruffles my coarse hair. My eyes water with each gust, but I refuse to pull my sunglasses down, they would only dull the view of the ocean. The waves crash and call out, shouting their muffled outrage into the sand. I chew over thoughts in my mind, and anise between my teeth. Joggers stubbornly stagger into the headwind behind me, persevering in an admirable commitment to self betterment. I squish and squeeze the soft bits of candy between my fingers, mentally caressing my quandaries in tandem. A gang of gulls stares at my selfish edible enjoyment, accusing eyes demanding a display of selflessness I didn’t plan on pursuing. Winged bullies of the beach, I stare the biggest in the eye and enjoy its naked hunger more than the flavor that mashes, melting in my mouth.

It screams with obvious jealousy, flapping its wings in sharp snapping demands. The rest of its posse restless and hungry. I pop another piece in my mouth and flip them off with a chuckle. “You’ll have to piss off, my avian aggressors, I shan’t be sharing my treasures with thee.” It hops down off the concrete wall that runs along the boardwalk, taking a few menacing bounces in my direction. “You look pretty silly, you have wings for a reason.” I lean back, bracing both hands on the back of the bench I sat upon, raising my right leg and resting my foot upon my left knee. The group explodes into feathers and flight, cast aloft by a bike that blasts past, the worn boards beneath the tires humming out a beat as it passes. Di-dunk, di-dunk, di-dunk - the wheels call out, underlined by the zzzzzzzzzzzzzz of the chain when the rider rests their legs and coasts. Hehe, coasts along the coast. I smile, throwing my head back to watch the ravenous scavengers wheel about overhead.

They trace lazy circles against the bright blue sky, and I squint, flipping my head forward and back up to drop the sunglasses down to the bridge of my nose. I raise my right hand, pushing my slightly sticky index finger against the bridge and nudging the rims flush to my cheeks. I brush a bit of gritty gravel from my nose, then brush my fingers on my jeans. I can feel the bits of sand on my thigh through the worn out denim, and I give my fingers a quick lick. I taste the beach, the salt, the sand, and the general wear of my jeans on my lips. The flavors bring memories of the summer, laughter in the arcade, sampling taffy, elephant ears and bumper cars. There is an undercurrent of breakups, existentialism and angst, but I don’t think I can blame the teenage condition on my pants.

“I thought I’d find you here.” a comfortable rumble cuts through the waves, stabbing into my world, and I flinch. A familiar knot tightens in my shoulders, drawing up my defenses. I don’t move my head, staring out at the dark line where the sea meets sand. The sea draws out, rushes in with a crash. Draws out. Crashes. “I’m going to be leaving later today, I wish I could stay longer.”

My heart goes out with the sea, my feelings crash with the return. I block out the words and the pain they’re carrying with them. My tongue is thick with the bitter tang of disappointment, and I swallow hard.

Woosh. Crash.

Woosh. Crash.

I try to breathe with the waves, in and out. I crest and crash, chest shaking and heart aching.

Woosh. Crash.

“I promise I’ll visit, I’ll be back before you know it.”

I’m glad for the sunglasses now, I pretend they dim the hurt that wells up in my eyes. The sea breeze sneaks in, kissing them from afar, and I relish the sting.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay, but you know how it is.”

I do know how it is, but I don’t think they know how it is for me. They only know how it is for them. My reply wells up, rebounds off my clenched teeth and curls up in my throat, a painful lump I can’t swallow.

Woosh. Crash.

My blood roars in my ears, storm clouds thunder in my chest.

Woosh. Crash.

“Will you talk to me? Are you listening? I’m sorry.”

If I look at them, it will be real. If I see them, then I have to watch them leave. Again. They always leave, but not without empty assurances I’ve learned not to count on. I curse myself for hoping it could be different. I curse them for not being able to change. I lash out into the aether with anger, but cold indifference leaves nary a ripple.

A slight pressure on the bench next to me, and the back flexes below my aching butt. I want to adjust, but I don’t want to move. If I move, I’m alive, and statues don't cry. The air condenses with hesitation near a foot, thigh, then shoulder.

Woosh. Crash.

Woosh. Crash.

The silence drowns out the ocean, and spans wider than the horizon. Undercurrents flow between us, and roil the surface in spots. I am thrown about in turbulent thoughts, desperately seeking purchase on a slick deck. Minutes pass. Hours maybe. It could be lifetimes, but I am beyond sensation.

A heavy sigh and my shoulder is squeezed.

“I love you, I’ll miss you.”

Then footsteps grit away, grinding into the boards and my senses until all that remains is the raw surface they leave behind.

I lunge off the bench, leaning over the wall and vomiting the bittersweet treats into the sand and beach grass below. I retch until I swear I break, then stagger backwards, the bench scoops my legs up and I land heavily.

The gulls descend from above in a flurry of vindictive victory.

Woosh. Crash.

The knot unspools, and my resolve with it, tears leap forth, dancing with the sea salt on my cheeks.

Cousins that delight in the reunion, like my feelings and I.

A bruise that never heals, I poke and prod the flaring fire.

I hate the beach.