Chapter 3 Jonah - Past
three
Jonah - Past
MOODY SKIES AND PALE THIGHS.
The air was thick. It tasted of damp salt and smelled like the ocean.
At this time of year, very few people came down this path to the secluded beach, and I was counting on it being empty now. It had only been two weeks since I’d moved back in with Dad and I was fucking suffocating in that house. He didn’t know what to do with me.
Why would he? He hadn’t needed to be a father to me since I was seven.
Whatever. It was what it was. I didn’t need him to be my father.
Well, no, that wasn’t true. I did need him to be my father, as much as I needed my mom to be a mother.
I needed someone to fucking help me. A father to guide me.
A mother to soothe me. Some older, wiser person to just help me.
Someone who had their shit together and who could just hold my hand and help me find my way again… because I was so fucking lost.
After Adaline, it was like they forgot they still had another child to parent. But if they hadn’t changed in the fourteen years after her death, they just weren’t going to. It made me so fucking angry.
There was this feeling in my chest most of the time, all tight and heavy.
Like a weighted vest pulling me down. My throat tightened.
I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t speak.
Yet all I wanted to do was scream. My eyes were itchy, and my skin was too tight and too hot.
I wanted to pull it all off. Maybe if I ripped myself apart, this feeling that was far too big for me could finally escape. I could finally be free of it.
Then again, I kind of liked holding onto it. Even as it burned me, as it shredded up my insides and turned me cruel, I clutched onto it. Because if I didn’t have it, I’d be empty. And that was worse.
The path turned from solid dirt to soft sand, and the trees parted to reveal the small, sheltered area.
This beach was quite shit for swimming or surfing—too much seaweed, and shattered shells to poke and cut at bare feet—but it was fine for walking on if you wore shoes. It was a good place to escape.
My Vans sank into the softer ground as I continued.
The added resistance to my steps made a dull ache flare in my injured leg, but the pain fed my anger.
That tight feeling in my chest and throat flared up, provoking me to drive myself forward faster, so the ache got worse.
The two things fed into each other in an infuriating and vicious circle until the sand and crushed shells shrank into small patches between large rocks.
I stepped onto them and continued on my way, rock to rock, until they flattened out.
There were tall cliffs on either side of the beach, and I walked along the bottom of one. When the tide came in, this place would go under, which meant I couldn’t stay as long as I wanted to.
My shoes traced the edges of small pools of still water between rocks, some of which contained tiny fish or crabs that darted out of sight as my shadow cast over them.
I left them alone and continued on, following the curve of the cliff until I was far out of sight from the beach. If anyone came looking for me, they wouldn’t be able to see me now. Not that anyone would.
Idly I wondered… if I slipped and fell into the ocean, got carried out to sea, how long it would take Dad to notice I was missing? How long would it take them to find where I’d gone? Maybe they’d never find me at all. Maybe they’d be relieved. I think I’d be relieved. My throat got tighter.
The wind picked up. It whipped my hair around my face and into my eyes, and I pushed it back in annoyance. It was past time for a haircut, but I’d rather shave it all off than let anyone touch me. I’d also feel too exposed without it.
I kept going. I knew this place from my childhood.
Vague memories of Mom telling me and Adaline not to go too far away from where she was sunbathing.
Not that she actually paid attention, immediately getting lost in one of her romance novels and trying to forget the fact that she, or us, or my father existed.
We were disappointing to her. She’d always dreamed of a bigger life than what we could afford.
She hated that she had to work and couldn’t just stay home and be a well-kept trophy wife.
Now Richard gave that to her. I hope she loses it all.
Despite knowing I shouldn’t go too far, I couldn’t actually bring myself to care as I continued onward. The hem of my jeans got damp, like my shoes, as I walked through some shallow water, and when the rocks inclined, I climbed.
The top of the cliff wasn’t all that high.
Tall enough that a fall would cause some nasty injuries but probably not kill me, unless I landed on my head or something.
Would that be an instant death? Just the feeling of wind and then nothing?
Or would it not kill me right away? Maybe I’d die slowly from my injuries, waiting for the tide to come in and drown me.
Again, I wondered how long it would even take for someone to find me if that happened.
Would they think it was an accident? Or would they think I’d done it on purpose?
Would it matter to them?
I kicked a small rock and stood too close to the edge as I watched it fall. Listened as it tumbled down and disappeared into the foamy ocean crashing below.
It was mostly flat up here. A few rocks covered in dirt stuck up above the others, one of which had a curved shape to it, making it almost look like a bench seat.
I wondered if it had formed like that naturally or if someone had carved it out for that purpose.
Then I decided I didn’t care and plopped myself down on it, facing toward the raging ocean and the storm that brewed in dark heavy clouds over the horizon.
The shuffle of feet across dirt and rocks caught my attention over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore below.
My jaw clenched in irritation that I was no longer alone.
The best I could hope for was that whoever was approaching would see this particular area was already occupied and promptly move along.
No such luck.
The footsteps got louder. Keep moving. Leave me the fuck alone. I attempted to mentally project my thoughts onto the person. To make my aura and vibes as unwelcoming as possible.
They got closer.
Fucking seriously?
Closer and closer until the bastard literally plopped down right beside me on the rock, so fucking close they might as well have sat in my lap. Without looking at them, I shuffled over to give myself some more space until I was right on the edge of the rock seat.
“Do you fucking mind?” I said when a more appropriate distance had been established.
“Nope,” replied a soft voice, popping the p. They sounded entirely too casual. Clearly, they hadn’t picked up on the venom in my tone, and I needed to try a bit harder.
“Beach not fucking big enough for you?”
“I mean… it’s not very big.” That was true. This was a very small beach. However, it was large enough that sharing a rock was entirely avoidable. Before I could point that out, they continued. “Besides, this is like the best place to sit and watch the water. This rock is shaped—”
“Like a chair,” I interrupted. “I know. But it’s occupied right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But there’s still enough room. Besides, you seem like someone who shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I tensed up even further. My chest and throat snapped tight, my ribs ached, and the urge to lash out bubbled within me, turning the core of me molten and explosive. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Yeah you do.”
“No I fucking don’t.” I snapped in indignation. “What do you know, anyway? You don’t fucking know me.”
“No, I don’t know you, but I recognize it in you anyway. You’re like me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m someone who shouldn’t be alone right now too.”
The verbal vitriol bubbling up my esophagus came to an abrupt halt. I risked a slight glance toward them and caught a feminine profile with neon-orange, shoulder-length hair. Her eyes turned to look back at me, so I quickly snapped my attention back to the ocean in front of us.
I wasn’t sure what to say in response to that.
I wasn’t here to fucking comfort anyone, especially not this random stranger.
But knowing that she was hurting, that she didn’t want to be alone, made me feel better.
Because apparently I was an asshole like that.
I didn’t care about a stranger’s feelings, I really didn’t, but the tension inside me eased knowing she wasn’t speaking from a place of judgment or pity.
“So this is because you need someone, then?” I said after a beat of silence.
“If I say yes, will you let me keep sitting here?”
“Yes.” My voice sounded softer than I intended it to.
“Then yes.”
We fell into silence again. I was hyperaware of her presence beside me. I noticed the soft gray of her hoodie from the corner of my vision, along with the pale skin of her legs between the hem of her skirt and the cuff of white knee-high socks that disappeared into black beat-up chucks.
At first, I couldn’t focus on anything but her. She was too close, and I was too raw and vulnerable. The longer we sat there together in silence, though, the more I could tune her out. My attention turned back to the sea, and to the waves that crashed relentlessly against the rocks.
The ocean witnessed us as we witnessed it, silently observing each other as we fell into a fragile peace.
My nose and ears hurt from the cold, and when the wind picked up, it sent whispers of chill down my neck and spine, under the cuffs of my sleeves at my wrists.
It was cold, and it made me shiver, but it also felt real. Peaceful. I liked it.
There was movement beside me as she pulled her hood up over her head, and after a few minutes I did the same.