Home*
Me: I’ll be there
Tony: K.
thx
“I’m headed out.” I motion towards the door, shoulders dropping. This conversation makes me feel so defeated. “Antony is waiting for me.”
My father frowns. “Fine. Be safe.”
“I will.”
I hand him my spare house keys, grab my surfboard and flip-flops, and walk out. He doesn’t call after me to ask how I’m doing because it doesn’t matter. It never has before, and it’s definitely not going to change now.
SEGURA A ONDA
Beckett
OCTOBER, 2016
Point-Mort is, without anyounce of doubt, the worst beach to surf in. The ocean isn’t kind to beginners, especially after dark, but even the most seasoned surfer will struggle here. The waves become absolutely feral once the high tides come in.
Antony and I have been coming here long enough to know our way around, which is our only saving grace. It’s a matter of life or death; we’d drown if we didn’t.
His family settled in Le Port for good after his dad’s heart started giving out, and though I don’t remember the story well enough, I’m sure it’s something about him not handling the stress of having such a high demand job very well.
The doctors forced him into early retirement from diplomacy, and the years that followed were difficult. But while I might not remember our beginnings clearly, I do remember how losing the job nearly cost the Silvas everything they had. The disease hadn’t been planned; it took them a long time to figure things out.
They seem to be doing a lot better now, and Tony’s mother deserves all the credit for it.
She’s the real breadwinner of the family.
Antony’s twin younger sisters, Julia and Carol, play little league every Saturday morning just like we used to do. He is my closest friend to date, and maybe even the only person who gets me these days, especially when it comes to Lucia.
I’ve known him forever, and sure, people change all the time. But Tony never really has. His presence stays the same, and the thought of that is comforting to me.
“So now he wants me to get rid of the dog.”
“No way!” Antony slams his surfboard into the water, practically unable to contain his rage. I go quiet, awkwardly staring at the waves around us. “Pepé is Lucia’s dog. You can’t do that to her, Beckett!”
“I know, Tony.”
“Shereallyloved him!”
“Yeah. I know that, too.”
The sky above us is almost entirely dark. A few stars are starting to pop at random places, twinkling softly and disappearing behind the clouds.
I somehow always start to feel somewhat melancholic when another day starts to come to an end, knowing that it’s another day without my sister.
Talking about Lucia with Antony is a tightrope. It’s no secret to me that he’s still deeply in love with her, and her death is the kind of wound that will never truly heal unless he allows it to.
Sadly enough, I’m starting to think he won’t ever get over the feeling. They were absolutely obsessed with each other from the very beginning.
I can’t even imagine how that it feel like to be completely enamored with someone who won’t ever come back to life. It’s not the same kind of grief I carry around.
Mine is rooted in family. I mourn her as the only sister I’ve ever had, and losing the bond hurts me badly, but Antony is torturing himself.