Page 30 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
But I can’t.
Because this dream is a memory. And memories can’t change.
I am forced to watch, again, as she screams. Forced to watch, again, as she…dies.
I hatethat this is a word I still remember.
Dies. Death.
I wish I could forget the hurt that comes from having a love die. But for all the words that have slipped away, the one I want to slip remains with me.
I watch Indigo die. Always. Whenever I sleep.
And I awaken from these dreams, restless and hurting. Surrounded by the dark waters. Doomed to never again feel the warmth of the orb in the sky or see the colors of the land.
Doomed to never see her smile again.
But tonight is different.
Because when I open my eyes, a woman stares back at me.
I blamed the wine.
Downing an entire bottle made people complacent for stupid stuff, y’know?
And,yes,I’d swigged the bottle. Thewholething. Every last crimson drop.
Why?
Well, it was cheaper to get a bottle instead of a glass. So we had. And then Jackson had opted to get the stout on tap instead, leaving me with all 750 milliliters of Merlot.
“You can take the leftovers back to our room,” Jackson had said. “We’ll do a midnight toast or something.”
There were no leftovers. Not of the wine. Or the dinner. Or the appetizer.
The afternoon of puking and anxiety attacks had left my belly an insatiable black hole.
But that bottle of wine was gonna get me in trouble.
Sober me never, ever,everwould have strolled her bare-naked bottom into the water. Tipsy me? Had trekked willingly down the little path through the cliffs and allowed Jackson to strip off my clothes. And I’d laughedwhen I peeled his off. Because my head was buzzy and light, and the fog and shadows had twined in a delectable drape around the hard, muscularplanes of his body,teasing me by keeping all the best parts shrouded.
Now I smiled, nervously, when he grasped on to my arm and walked backward, guiding us into the plopping water.
“Someone isgoingto—hiiiiicccc—oh my goodness.” I waved my arm in front of my face. “Was that a hiccup or a burp?”
Jackson laughed. “A hiccup.”
“Well, that’s good. I don’t want to blast ya with half regirtated…refrigerated…refurburated—” Stars above, it was hard to drag words out of my wine-sloshed brain. “—regurgitatedfish and chips.”
“We definitely don’t want that.” Jackson splashed water at me, flecking it across my belly, and making me shiver. “The fishy smell might sic the Loch Ness Monster on our asses.Kidding,babe.” He shook my arm, maybe sensing the tight chord of fear that snapped along my spine. “It’s too shallow. No sea beast will dare venture here. And if it does”—he planted a beer-scented kiss on my cheek— “I’ll protect you.”
“And you’re sure the…” I freed a hand, swishing it in a wave motion when the word I wanted died a slow, suffocating death inside my sozzled head.
“Tide?” Jackson supplied.
“Yeah. That. You’re sure it’ll stay out?”
“‘Til near midnight. Yeah.”
