Slight of handI'm standing between Duncan and Ben.
Jump off the end
Into a clear lake
No one around
Just dragonflies
Fantasize
No one gets hurt
You’ve done nothing wrong
Slide your hand
Jump off the end
The water’s clear and innocent
The water’s clear and innocent
Everyone is facing the house and I am facing the sea, headphones firmly seated into my skull, chewing gum keeping cadence. Codex on repeat. The perfect song for this grey, blustery day. I am in jeans today, tucked into rain boots and topped with a heavy fisherman-knit sweater. It's cool and Caleb invited some of us for a sail, knowing full well we would have to set out early to be back before the storm, knowing that I would never be allowed to come alone.
They think I am too wrapped up inside my head to notice their conversation but mixed in the piano swell I can watch their faces and see their emotions painted harshly on their features, fervid expressionism, responsive surrealism. I want to smile for the beauty of not needing to hear the words shouted into the wind. I am concentrating on the ocean instead. One good wave and I'm inside her again like a lover and it is so hard for her to willingly let me go. One keen cold roll of the sea and every trace of me will be washed away with the high tide.
Lochlan's face is stone. He's confident that common sense will prevail, like the wind. Ben isn't interested in debating where I am or who I'm with today. He is done with point-scoring, done with timeshares and done with the divided loyalties. Disappointment threatens to spill over and slide down his cheeks to be wiped away hastily with the back of his hand, subject changed, subject closed. Caleb radiates risk and thrill like heat, emanating the dares of his devilish side, proving Cole's personality a hundred times over, dark blue eyes flashing as he looks at me, perhaps he is mollified even with my guarded presence. Perhaps he is planning something different now. His hair whips around his eyes and I am grief-stricken by how beautifully Cole would have changed as he aged.
I clench my fists up tightly, pulling them into the sleeves of my sweater for warmth. The chords surge into my skull and I let my head soar across the water. I don't need to be present for their words. I don't need to be here at all.