Chapter 14 #3
“There were times when I’d wake up in the middle of the night and see my dad standing by the railing on the deck, staring out over the water,” Ocean admitted.
“Whenever I asked what he was looking for, he’d always tell me that he was just listening to the waves, but he looked sad and kind of, well, haunted.
Now maybe I have a better idea as to why. ”
“Doesn’t matter how far you run, you will never outrun your ghosts,” Pope said. “You might leave them in the dust for a while; you might even think you’ve shaken them completely until something triggers a memory, and you’re right back in whatever horror you tried to forget.”
Sighing, Ocean drank the liquid in the bottom of the paper cone, debating whether or not to share what kept him up at night sometimes, staring into the darkness with tears soaking his face.
The days had melted into enough of a blur of activity and the constant presence of others that it hadn’t happened yet, but the longer they were camped out at Pope’s, the more he feared the questions that would come when it did.
Maybe it was better to just yank the band-aid off and get it over with.
“I was on the beach the day my father died,” Ocean admitted.
“The waves were too gnarly for me to ride, so I was playing in the surf with some friends. Mostly we were just watching our dad’s surfing and splashing each other.
When the lifeguard started whistling and ran for the water, yelling for people to come in, we thought it was because he’d spotted a shark.
It happened sometimes. We got out and I remember scanning the water, looking for a fin.
By the time I paid attention to where the surfers were, Dad and my friend Brian’s father had gotten swept down the beach.
Someone ran for a jet ski. I ran along the sand trying not to lose sight of them.
They were doing everything right, letting the riptide carry them, not trying to fight it to get to shore.
It got harder to see them as it carried them toward the pier.
I lost them in the shadows underneath it.
By the time the lifeguards reached them, they’d gotten bashed into the pilings.
They said that dad was trying to keep Brian’s head above water after he’d hit one, but then the waves smashed them into another.
Dad drowned; he’d hit his head. It was bad; there was so much blood.
They tried to revive him on the beach. I remember yelling for him to wake up, then yelling more when they stopped working on him.
I jumped on one of the lifeguard’s backs and was beating on him with my fists to try and get him to keep trying.
Keep breathing for him. Another guard peeled me off and held me while they covered his body with a beach blanket.
Brian’s dad was alive when they pulled him out, but barely.
He passed away a few days later from internal injuries.
Sometimes I wonder if I could have helped him if I’d been big enough to be out there surfing with him that day. ”
Tears dripped off his cheeks that he tried to swipe away with the back of his hand, but no amount of effort would make them stop.
When Pope’s arms wrapped around him, Ocean burrowed against his chest and sobbed, the image of his father’s bloody face and caved-in skull one that he knew would haunt him forever.
Pope didn’t try to shush him or settle him down; he just clutched him close, tight, like he was trying to hold the broken pieces together until Ocean could get control of himself again.
Breathing in the scent of leather and Pope’s body wash was what finally got his tears to slow, tremors wracking his body as Pope gently rocked him.
“He’d have been more worried for you than himself,” Pope whispered in his ear. “Knowing you were safe gave him a fighting chance. The fates just weren’t in his favor that day.”
While he knew Pope was right, it was hard to accept that on that day, the sea claimed yet another victim.
“He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up about something you had no control over,” Pope said.
“It hurts to lose someone we love. The pain never goes away completely. But he’d have been so proud of the man you’ve become, trust me on that, and he’ll always be right there with you, not just on the waves but every minute of every day that you carry his memory in your heart. ”
Clinging, all Ocean could do was let the tears keep flowing, no longer in ugly, choking sobs, but gentle waves that brought relief the longer he let them out until limp, spent, and exhausted, with all his weight leaning against Pope, he sniffled and drew in a slow, shaky breath.
“I’ve got you; we can stay just like this for as long as you need,” Pope murmured in his ear.
“And if you ever find yourself standing at the railing needing to talk, you come wake me; we can sit up as long as you’d like.
You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to, just as long as you know you’re not alone. ”
Words were still beyond him, so he just nodded and stayed curled against Pope’s chest as his mind settled, because sometimes, the only thing left was to give in and trust.