There's no dreams in the wavesA very early trip down to the beach this morning heralds the end of the snow and what we're going to officially call 'spring' here on the west coast. Heavy rain that has no end in sight resumes, washing away the remainder of winter like it was merely a streak of dirt on a pristine surface.The stairs are clear, the beach is unfamiliar after such a lack of contact that I don't even know how to greet the ocean suddenly, stepping forward shyly like it's our first date.
Only monsters
and the monsters are my only friends
Hello. I bend down and check the water temperature, sticking my hands in up to my bracelets.
It's freezing cold but clear. I stand back up and head over to check on the condition of our little driftwood house and the breakwater. There is still a thick layer of ice on the dock so we'll skip that side completely. The house stands strong. I go inside and check to make sure the little piles of seaglass are still inside. The boys leave them for me to collect and bring up to the house, offerings I can't bear to touch or alter in any way and so they stay right there, safe and sound.
Are these offerings to the ghosts?
No.
Are they attempts to bring some permanence to your surroundings?
Jesus. You sound like August!
Your life is never stable and it's my fault.
My life is like the tides. In and out. Up and down. Exactly how it's supposed to be, if that's how it is.
That's a defeatist view.
A realist view. That's your fault, if you're looking for blame to shoulder.
It's not good to talk back to the love of your life-
You're not the love of my-
And I stopped and looked at him with horror.
He stood in place but closed his eyes so I couldn't see his expression.
He finally opens them again. At least if I'm going to be second best it's good that it's to someone who isn't here. How did he get so much weight, Bridget? How did he take that place from me?
He saved my life.
Lochlan looks at the sky. Pain is all over his face. Agonizing realizations crush simple conversation into a tidal wave. Forget knowing how to swim. We don't stand a chance.
I suppose I should be grateful for that, he said. And I am. Truly. But I plan to replace him.
Am I worth it? Because I'd like you to do that but only if it's worth it in the end.
Oh, it is. You have no idea. I'd walk through fire for you.
I'm pretty sure you already have.
Then we're well underway.
I'm sorry, Locket. It's not like I can compare. It's like when one of your children asks you who your favourite is. There isn't one-
I get it, Bridget. I guess if nothing else I'm glad you're honest and not lying through your teeth about where I stand.
There's nothing to be gained from it.
And then you evaluate the merit of telling the truth. I taught you too well. Some days I wish we could start over and then I wouldn't have to stand here arguing with a mirror.
Well, that isn't nice at all.
Maybe it isn't, but that isn't your fault either.
(Update: he's not fooled by my rash declarations. I'm crushed by them but he insists it's just kneejerk loyalty to someone who isn't here to fight for himself, and that I don't really feel this way. I like his interpretation, mostly because he promises me I won't feel like this forever and that he was there before and he'll be here after. Forever. Happily ever after. Unlike Jacob.)