Page 10 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“I know, Mama. I miss you already.” I left yesterday morning, deciding to split the ten-hour drive into two days. Though I’vevacationed with friends—camping mostly—I’ve never lived in a different city. “This is just something—”
“You have to do. I know. I can tell when my baby can’t set something down. You’ve been like that ever since you were little.” There’s a smile in my mother’s voice. “If you need this break by the sea, then you should take it. Nashville Medical Center will be happy to have you back once you’re rested.”
Though the lie eats a hole through my intestines, I distract us both by describing Wilks Beach. Since Gen had been nowhere to be found when I came back inside the house earlier, I set my bags beside the couch and decided to explore my new neighborhood. A single two-lane road runs the length of the beach, short residential streets with single-family homes jutting off it. When I walked south, I found a condo tower and a nice city park with a playground that dead-ended into an inlet.
Two younger men—Cliff and Leo—were fishing off the jetty in blatant disregard to the signs warning them not to. They didn’t mind answering my questions about the area, explaining that the wide inlet next to us separated Wilks Beach from North Carolina’s Outer Banks, and that a large, inaccessible wildlife preserve borders the northern edge of town. With the Atlantic Ocean stretching to the east and Back Bay to the west, most locals called Wilks Beach an island, though it’s technically a peninsula.
“Sounds kind of romantic, how remote it is,” my mom muses after I tell her the town is an hour from the next closest city, Virginia Beach. “Maybe Mark and I should honeymoon there instead. It’d probably be cheaper and a lot easier to get to.”
They’d initially had plans to honeymoon in Hawaii—a once-in-a-lifetime trip for the both of them. Fortunately, Mark had been able to recoup ninety percent of their money after Mama wanted to postpone everything.
“I can testify to the beach’s quality,” I say, walking along the wet, packed sand. “Golden sand for as far as the eye can see.”
After talking to Cliff and Leo, I wandered past the lifeguard towers and beach crowded with families, continuing northward. I only made it a hundred feet before the lack of breeze forced me to take off my shirt and tuck it into the back of my shorts.
“I’m happy you’re doing this,” Mama tells me. “Taylor—” My heart seizes when her voice cracks. “Taylor was always getting after you to take more time for yourself.”
My feet stop, the remnants of a wave almost touching my shoes. “She was.”
Was.I hate that word. For that matter, I hate the past tense. I hate that, a few months ago, my sister was alive and well, and now, she’s gone, and I’m wandering up an—albeit stunning—beach, questioning my sanitywhile lyingto Mama.
A part of me knows I should have come with divorce papers, like Geneva expected. Asking to stay with her is sheer lunacy, but something won’t let me simply walk away. I know that three months of sleeping on Geneva’s couch doesn’t make a marriage, but I can’t bring myself to apathetically scrawl another signature to make this go away. I don’t believe in fate, but even I can’t deny that bone-deep sensation that I’m supposed to be here.
At least for a little while.
“Well…I should be…”
“Okay, Mama,” I say, recognizing the well-worn pattern.
Taylor would always talk to me about anything, but Mama doesn’t like getting into tough, emotional conversations. When our calls get to this point, she makes an excuse to hang up. Mama often cautioned me about wearing my heart on my sleeve, but my sister always said it was her favorite attribute of mine.
“Being open-hearted isn’t a flaw, Van. It’s your biggest strength.”
That was why I chose to become a doctor and work in the ER. I’ve always wanted to help others, and being in the emergency department allows me to be the first person they see when their life is going off the rails. Sure, there’s the added bonus of each shift being unique, since you never know what’ll walk through the doors, but providing my patients with much-needed compassion during their scariest moments…that fulfills me.
Mama and I exchangeI love yousbefore I tuck my phone into my pocket, staring out over the ocean. I’d never seen it in person before. My upbringing, education, and professional life have always existed within Nashville city limits. I should be awestruck, or at the very least enjoying a sense of tranquility, but it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my heart. My head tilts back as I close my eyes against the bright-blue sky, dragging in a deep breath.
Sometimes, this is all I can manage—breathing.
Because I can’t deal with the hole in my chest. As much as my extroverted soul will talk to anyone about anything, I’ve only ever confided inone personwhen things got really tough, and now…she’s gone.
The sudden breeze caressing my face is so tender my eyes water as they spring open. Air swirls around my arms, between my fingers, and around my ankles. A staggered inhale slips between my lips as goosebumps dot my skin, but the breeze doesn’t cease. If anything, it increases, gently ruffling the umbrellas of beachgoers, sending the flags of the oceanfront houses snapping.
“I miss you too.”
My head snaps around, looking for the source of my sister’s voice, but then my forehead wrinkles as I shake my head. Paracusia. That’s the medical term for auditory hallucination.
Nothing can bring my sister back.
Abruptly, the wind picks up, whipping towels from the sand and thudding louder than my jackknifing pulse. I cover my ears with my palms, closing my eyes against the spray of sand pelting my legs, my chest, my cheeks. As suddenly as it came, the gale abates, almost as if we were in a momentary dust storm.
Beachgoers scramble to right pop-up tents, spread towels, and shake sand out of beach bags. In the remaining quiet, the lulling, rhythmic sound of the water washes over me. Gleeful children giggle as they rush to play in the waves. The briny tang of sea air mixes with the scent of sunscreen. Sunlight sparkles over everything, turning the sea into thousands of liquid diamonds.
I wait for a buoyed sensation to ribbon through my ribs, to finally feel at peace, but…nothing. There’s nothing but the ever-present ache in my chest. The urge to do something—anything—to distract myself is oppressive.
I think of the last time I felt a reprieve from this agony, and a pair of narrowed brown eyes flash before my vision. Being with Geneva in Vegas had been the only time I felt alive—like my old self—since losing Taylor. Even as that thought fills my mind, I know it’s too much pressure to put on one person, especially someone I’m just getting to know. But I don’t know another way to deal with the incessant emptiness. Working until I could barely stand these last few months hasn’t helped.
“Alright.” I clap my hands together, distracting myself. “Time to find the missus.”
