Page 17 of Waves
As soon as Kai disappeared, Ishmael paddled in right after him on a rescue mission. He whimpered each time he got hit by the waves and pushed back to the shore, but after swimming in circles in a fruitless search, he came back. While I found myself too preoccupied with staring at what was no longer there, Ishmael ran the length of the beach while barking his head off. Long after I sank to my knees in a daze, then sat back into the sand while keeping my eyes locked on the same spot, Ishmael exhausted himself and collapsed in the sand beside me.
“He was right here...” I murmured while rubbing Ishmael’s floppy ears. “I saw him... right here, then he ran into the water, and then...” I shook my head as if the motion could erase the memory.
Even now, with the afternoon sun overhead, my eyes still scanned the sparkling water along the horizon without reason. He was not coming back. No human could hold their breath that long. Yet, that was not what troubled me the most. I knew what I saw and what darted away from the shore was not a man. What fled into the depths of the ocean was... the pale, speckled coat of a Phoca vitulina, more commonly known in this area as the harbor seal.
What did it all mean? As I said, no human could hold their breath this long. Phoca vitulina? Up to twenty-eight minutes, which surpassed even our record-holders. So, if what I thought I saw was a man, but not a man, what did that leave other than inhuman?
After an embarrassingly long time spent sitting in the sand and trying to reconcile the difference between what I knew to be true and what I just witnessed, I left the beach without any real resolution. I suspected I would never be sure what happened today, only that I didn’t imagine any of this.
I whistled at Ishmael to come along, then scooped up the abandoned items strewn across the sand while walking back to my car. Ishmael hopped onto the seat, where he waited to be buckled in, and I threw everything in my arms onto the floor of the backseat. I didn’t even want to listen to the radio while I drove, instead I anxiously drummed my fingers on the steering wheel the entire short ride home.
Once we both entered the garage, Ishmael raced to the door like the good boy he was and waited to be let into the house. I didn’t head to the kitchen door right away. Instead, I flipped open my trash can and threw my ill-fitting gym pants in the bin. After I ditched the pants without hesitation, I paused and rubbed the fabric of the shirt between my fingers in a moment of weakness while old sentiments rushed back to me. Ishmael impatiently barked at the door, snapping me from my daze. With a final and resolute exhale, I shoved that damn rag so deep in the can I couldn’t change my mind later, then slammed the lid closed. I should have gotten rid of that shirt a long time ago.
I went quiet for a couple of days, in the sense that I didn’t check my various social media profiles nor took any time to reply to texts. I threw myself back into my work and tried to focus on what was really important. When Mary eventually called my house to ask if I was okay, I carefully wove around her questions, as usual. She declared she would only be satisfied if she saw my face and could verify in person that I was alive and well. And she expected me to do this by coming to yet another party at her place.
I didn’t really want to go there when I knew she would have other guests, but I also didn’t want her to worry. At one time I attended her gatherings religiously, only not so much over the last year. She pleaded enough for me to agree to come out for a bit. Moping at home did nothing so far to get me through this existential crisis, so I might as well get on with life. I was about to grab my jacket and leave when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
You’re going to kill me, Mary wrote, complete with an army of distressed emojis. Guess who had the balls to show his face?
My fingers flew over the screen while I frantically typed. I hoped I would be wrong. The devil himself?
Ding ding ding
I groaned so long it turned into a hiss, squeezing my phone while trying to decide what to do now.
I’ll have Eric ask him to leave. He’ll be gone before you get here.
My fingers hovered over the keys while I stared at the screen and tried to form a response. Seeing him again wouldn’t be easy, not tonight or any other night. Might as well be tonight.
Don’t bother, I typed back.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket before she could respond and headed out the door to the garage. The drive went quickly, and I arrived at Mary’s shortly after leaving my place—lucky to live such a short distance from my only remaining friend. Even luckier to have her as a friend at all, I supposed.
Mary threw her arms up and screeched with joy when she opened her screen door. “You actually came!”
“You owe me a fiver,” Eric called from within the house.
I chuckled at the idea of her betting against me since I felt neither angry nor surprised. “What a shame, since that would have been just enough for another clearance rack monstrosity,” I said while playfully tugging at the crooked hem of her t-shirt.
“So mean.” Mary stepped aside and let me into the house with a smile.
“I’m not mean.” I laughed. “Ishmael could stitch more evenly, and he doesn’t even have thumbs.”
“Okay, okay.” Mary linked her arm through mine and steered me toward her kitchen. She stopped once she saw what my other arm held. “Ezra, you didn’t have to bring me anything—”
“Oh, I know. I’m a meanie who brought this bottle all for himself.”
“Liar. You don’t even like drinking red,” she said with a wrinkled nose.
I smiled and handed over a twenty-dollar bottle of wine from the gas station. I couldn’t distinguish Shiraz from Merlot, but even I knew anything bought at a gas station was essentially garbage. Thankfully, Mary was not picky. She drank anything with a high enough proof, and her favorite kind of wine had always been ‘free.’
“You know, this can double as a weapon if a certain someone gets fresh with you,” she said, while cranking a corkscrew into the top of the bottle.
“You’re going to carry that around all night?” I laughed.
“Nah, but you can.” She giggled and pulled the cork out with a soft pop.
The lighthearted nature of our conversation left once I peeked down the hall to the living room, where most of the guests gathered. I didn’t even see him there.