Beached

We're standing on the edge of a beach,w here the sand reaches out its grainy fingers of broken rock and shell to the water’s lips. I see it trace them carefully. Even when the tide breaks like shattering porcelain dishes it is graceful. Like the water has a mind of its own as it dances over the rocks.

It’s early October and the beach is naked and empty of people, of foot traffic, this early and frigid morning. Our wool scarves match the turning leaves on the tall maples that tower behind us at the far side of what feels like the ends of the earth. The ice cream huts and hot dog stands are closed. Their bright, warm summer colours and pictures of treats and hand painted prices look faded as if no one has been here for years.

I take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. The hot air trapped in my lungs becomes visible in the cold that surrounds us. I dig my hands into my pockets for fear they might turn blue if I don’t. A brief breeze sweeps my hair into my face, tickling my cheeks but I don’t smile, I don’t move. I wait until it rests on my shoulders again, limp and lifeless. It’s such a waste of my energy to grow it. I look out at the water and see a great New York skyline burst from the quiet waves. The lights of Time’s Square all lit up for us. The skyscrapers and traffic and Broadway signs are resilient in the morning. But I blink, and it’s gone. It was a figment of my imagination, disappearing like everything else.

I look at you from the corner of my eye. You too are motionless and silent. Like the frost on the windows of empty cottages that sit on this beach, you don’t say anything, or budge, or dare to melt. I pull my hand out of my pocket and reach for yours but, it passes through your fingers, like smoke. You don’t exist. I feel tears collecting in the corners of my eyes, tiny droplets of emotions I hate. I suck them back and pretend it’s the cold. What does it matter anyways though? No one’s here, not even you. I’m alone. I wonder if maybe you’re alone too, somewhere else, in another beach or maybe in a empty street or maybe in an apartment building, or a forest or a park or a store or a movie theatre or a fucking garbage dump, I don’t care. I just want to know you’re alone too.

The thoughts collect so fast in my head I can’t process them all. I fall on my knees but, I’m still not crying. I lay on my stomach but, I’m still not crying. I reach out my hands and let them hang in the water but, I’m still not crying. I get pulled under the sea and I drown. Now I’m crying.

Then I wake up.