Page 29 of All the Ways You Save Me
“Yeah. It’s really beautiful, and I haven’t been back in ages, and I guess I just wanted to hang out and feel the sun on my face…” I trail off. The truth is that I don’t really know what I’m doing here anymore.
“You always said you didn’t want to go back there.”
“I didn’t think I did.” But as I gaze around at the familiar expanse of sand, the cedar-shingled houses set back behind the dunes, and the gulls swooping overhead, I don’t regret that I’m here. Maybe I needed to get away, to gain some perspective. Coming back to where I grew up reminds me that I had all these dreams when I was a kid, like living in a place like this. The real question is what I’m going to do now, and I don’t have an answer yet.
“How is Mexico?” I ask, hoping to change the subject to something safer.
“Amazing. We went to this little hole-in-the-wall for dinner after we landed yesterday, and I had the best tamales of my life. Layla said they’re just like her grandmother used to make.”
“Layla is there?” Jason didn’t tell me that Layla would be going to Mexico. I guess he didn’t specifically mention anyone was going, and I assumed it was a solo trip.
“Yeah, she came along to sit in on some of our meetings.”
The image of him and Layla straightening the couch cushions briefly crosses my mind, but I shake it off like the bits of sand clinging to my feet.
“So, how long are you staying on Sandy Harbor?” Jason asks.
“I’m just here for a day or two. I’ll be home on Monday.”
“Listen, Maddie,” Jason says, his voice tentative. “I’m sorry for the way I blew up at you. I was upset that you were chasing after that surfer, but it sounds like you came to your senses. Can we just put all this behind us?”
I gaze out at the horizon. It would be so easy to say yes and continue the way we’ve always been. But I don’t think I can. Because if I’ve learned anything in the last couple days, it’s that I’m clearly not over the trauma of losing Adam, I haven’t moved on, and I wonder if I ever will. “Jason, this isn’t a good idea?—”
He cuts me off. “I know I was a dick, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about how you acted.” Not really. I get that he was hurt and upset. “In a way, I’m glad you said what you did. It forced me to think about what I really want. And maybe you were right about Adam in the sense that when he died, I got stuck.”
“Stuck with me,” Jason mutters bitterly.
“I never felt stuck with you.” I sit up in my chair. “But I went from grieving Adam to a relationship with you, and Inever gave myself a moment in between to think about what’s best for me.”
“I’mwhat’s best for you, Maddie.” Jason’s voice takes on a pleading tone. “You’ll be home in a couple of days, let me prove it to you. I can do better.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with real regret. I wish I could be happy marrying Jason. But something has changed in me, like a light flipping on, and I can’t go back. I don’twantto go back. “I hope someday we can be friends.”
“Friends,” he scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
There’s not much left to say after that, and we hang up. I still can’t believe I’m blowing up my entire life, but when I breathe the salt air into my lungs and take stock of my emotions, I realize that what I’m feeling is relief. I’ve been going through the motions for so long. Jason was there for me, and I mistook the feeling of safety and comfort for love. And now I need to figure out who I am and what I want on my own.
I tug my wide-brimmed beach hat on my head in the hopes of fighting off the worst of the freckles and hop out of my chair. When I reach the edge of the water, I wade in up to my ankles, sucking in a breath as the cold permeates my skin. But the sun is warm on my face, and the sand soft beneath my feet, and I long to reclaim a tiny bit of the unfettered joy and freedom of my childhood on this island.
A gust of wind blows up, lifting my hat from my head and dropping it a dozen feet from shore. Sighing, I sidestep a tangle of seaweed and wade out, tugging at the hem of my sundress to keep it from dragging through the water. I step gingerly, gasping when an icy wave hits my calves and splashes higher. As it recedes, my hat bobs farther out to sea. I consider leaving it as an offering to the ocean gods, but I have another day on Sandy Harbor, and I learned before I could walk that people with my complexion can’t take their chances with sunburn.
I move farther out, and despite the warmth from the sun, Ishiver. I forgot how numbing the Atlantic Ocean is in June. I forgot how much I dread that icy bite against my skin. I was like a fish growing up here, eagerly diving into the swells long after the summer temperatures dipped into fall. But ever since Adam’s car plunged into the icy river, and I futilely jumped in after it, I’ve been cautious around large bodies of water.
As the memories of that night close around me—the sting of icy rain pellets on my face, the frigid water seeping into my clothes—I suddenly remember why I’ve stuck to the safety of my apartment complex pool. A wave rolls in, and I wobble on bare feet, dropping the hem of my dress into the white-capped froth. The gauzy fabric absorbs the brine like a sponge and clings to my thighs after the water recedes. I shiver as the cold seeps higher.
Maybe I don’t need my hat after all. Maybe this was all a terrible idea.
Heart pounding, I gasp for a breath that will sustain me long enough to turn for the shore, but I can’t seem to pull enough air into my lungs. I press a hand to my chest. Is this what a panic attack feels like? If I can just get back to my chair in the sand, I’ll be fine. But the next wave rolls in, carrying me back to that half-solid river where I’m clambering over the rocks toward the slowly sinking taillights, chanting Adam’s name like a prayer.
SEVENTEEN
TEN YEARS AGO
Madeline
Rain slams on the windshield like a thousand tiny pebbles hurled at the glass. The water flows downward in fat rivulets, faster than the pulsing wipers can clear it. I peer anxiously at the blurry white line bisecting the road, shimmering through the mist in Jason’s dim headlights.
