Life’s a Beach but I Washed Up Dry

It was immediately apparent that they were going down. The boat had splintered in half and already one side was completely submerged. They watched as the life preserves surfed away on the white-tipped waves. At first, they held on to each-other, but the current was bigger than their will to hold on, and they were forced apart.

She found something to hold onto first; a cushion from the boat that was just hardly keeping her afloat. Seeing nothing around him, and the success of his partner, he frantically swam to her and her cushion. He reached it and placed his upper body on it for support. Instead, it sunk with both their bodies weight.

It was only a brief moment, but in the at time, a critical decision had been made. He nodded, smiled a loving smile, and let go. He tread for a few seconds to see her one last time, and then, stopped fighting. She watched as his body submerged and his shadow disappeared into the depths.

He kept his eyes shut as the ocean tossed him around. He thought it would be more painful, but instead it felt like a well-orchestrated, charismatic dance. Suddenly the thrashing stopped. He refused to open his eyes, but he felt grayness surrounding him, a grayness that was gradually blackening. A dullness that was somehow soothing. He thought to himself, “this is it”.

Confusion stung her. She was one step closer to surviving, but at what cost? Why didn’t she let go? Why was she ok with this? Guilt began to blossom, and as her guilt rose, the current died. She lightly bobbed up and down… up and down…

She reached a trance that suspended her disbelief. A numbness filled her.

Feeling at peace with his death, he opened his eyes. He realized how contradicting this action was, yet to his own surprise, he could see. A beautifully rich blue filled all directions, and a feeling of weightlessness filled his body. “My body?!” he caught himself thinking.

A yell in the distance echoed in her head. She ignored it as she had any stimulus. A dingy lightly collided with her cushion. Zombified, she turned her head, mouth ajar, to greet her saviors. They dragged her on board and forced water down her throat. Life flooded her, and her chapped lips formed a smile. A smile so big her lips cracked and bled. The pain reminded her of her of him, and again, she slipped back into her insensible state.

He takes a deep breath. He looks down at his hands, only to see he has none; he looks for feet, but can’t find them. Confused, he swims around a bit.

He’s surrounded by beautiful fish and fluorescent coral. Fish swim by and nod, as if to welcome him to their community.

“Is this a dream?”

“Sure as hell can’t be heaven.”

She steps foot on land for the first time in a week. She expects for the solid ground to be supportive, but instead it feels wobbly like the boat did when she first placed foot on it. She’s made it back alive, but doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to feel. Her saviors drive her home, where she finds her place the same as it was before, but without him. An emptiness fills her again. She leaves to wander with her lost thoughts.

He begins to enjoy the luxury of swimming. It adds a whole new dimension to his movements. He begins to love the ocean; the tranquil push and pull to and from an unknown source. He finds solace in the vast loneliness of the sea. Being a fish suites him well.

Naturally, she wonders towards the dock where their boat had been. Near the basin, a pier jets out. Fisherman toss their lined spears into the water, and patiently wait for their prey to mistake their weapons for a treat. This passive violence sparks a visceral feeling in her. She walks to a fisherman, and asks to give a cast a try. Instantly, she gets a bite.

With no clear intent, he swims as far as he can in any direction. Mindfully, he digests what he sees; schools of fish too scared to break away; beautifully patterned fish hiding behind coral; giant fish swimming alone yearning to be accepted and not feared. Eventually he hits a dead end.

“I thought the ocean never ended”, he thought to himself. Just then, an uncontrollable curiosity interrupted his thoughts. He watches a worm squirm as it sinks. He realized that the only sensation he has not tried as a fish was taste. So he gives it a bite.

She reels the fish in onto the pier. She expects to be flooded with feelings, but with no success. She doesn’t thank the fisherman. She doesn’t thank the worm. She doesn’t throw the fish back. She just watches as the fish flails.

He feels the burn of the hook in his throat;

the tightness in his chest from the lack of breath; the splintering wooden ground on his oily scales. He isn’t ready to die.

She watches as the fish twitches his last twitch, and thinks to herself, "why couldn’t I have been the one who let go?”