Monday, March 8, 2010

Beach

The girl stood out on the beach. It was January, winter, about five in the evening. The sun was setting a fiery red as is fell between the incoming rain clouds. The wind blew the salty sea air into the girls face, chilling her to the bone. She felt the cold more than anyone else. Even though she was wearing a croqueted sweater and a black sweat shirt over it with jeans, she was still cold as if she stood out there with nothing on.
...



She watched as the waves crashed against the shore and the rocks. She took pictures of the dark clouds to the north and to the south of her. The clouds looked dark and foreboding. Earlier on the radio she'd heard that there were storms coming in from the northern Pacific ocean. They were right. But she stood out there in the cold, taking pictures with her little red camera for the angel she loved dearly.

Her father approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her. He had no coat on, just a t-shirt and he wasn't even shivering as bad as she. "The .... camera battery's dead." He said with annoyance swearing at the camera.

"Don't swear." She said softly. "Use mine." She said passing it up to him, with an image of the ship going into a crack where the red sun poked through the dark clouds on the horizon. "That's a good one." He commented taking the camera from her cold, pale white hands.

She leaned against the metal fence watching the rough waves crashing against the sand. She kept thinking about him.

Him.

So far away with his friends, his family, the people who she was jealous of because they could see him every day, when she could not. She kept thinking how that night, she'd nearly died. Her sugar had dropped too low, Hypoglycemia. She barely ate the night before, so it was only her fault. It hurt to eat, but she kept eating to keep alive.

She closed her eyes, the trembling, she could barely stand. The memory only happened about twelve hours ago, was still clear in her head as if it happened a few minutes ago. She thought it had been an acid build up, because her stomach had been hurting almost more than it ever had and she'd tasted a vomit taste in her always sore throat. She woke panting, her heart pounding in her chest. She climbed out of bed, nearly falling. She walked through the short hall, through the living room where her mother was sleeping in her burgundy armchair, to the kitchen where she took Pepto Bismol, a stomach ache reliever, which would help with acid also. She took that instead of anything else, then went back to bed. She didn't realize until that morning, that there had been sugar in the medicine, that after she took it she felt better and that the time she last ate was four in the afternoon the night before and that was a small meal.

She blinked back tears, as her father stood behind her, every so often a tiny click signalling a picture had been taken going off and his occasional comments on how to work the camera. She would answer showing him. Then look back out to see, concentrating on the military ship out sailing slowly about. Another thought came to her head.

What would have happened if she didn't wake up?

She knew the answer, coma, perhaps death. A single tear slipped of her now even whiter cheeks, turned paler because of the cold sea wind and the salts it carried, of which she quickly wiped away with her hand. She thought too much, that's what her father always told her. That's one of the reasons she was so sick, he often said. She thought too much, worried too much. She was so scared! How could she not think? She had to find out what was wrong, because the doctor's weren't doing it for her. They thought she was crazy.

Her father looked at her as her felt her fingers brushing over his arm as she stroked it lightly. "What are you thinking about sweetie?" He asked, seeing she had that distant gaze, the gaze that often gave him the impression she was lost in thought somewhere else. He often joked that he'd lost her, in away he thought he had, until she spoke again.

"Guess." She said softly, her voice just louder than the sea, but weak from the unmistakable feeling of needing to cry so desperately struggled to hide. He would know. She knew that. She always thought about him. She loved him. Her father took it as being the cold getting to her.

"Oh." He answered looking at her. Her hazel eyes were glassy, the same look she had when she had or was catching a cold. He'd make her take Tylenol when they returned back home.

"He'd love this." She said knowing that he would. "He doesn't live close to the sea. In fact, her lives far from it." Her told him, watching the waves getting stronger. "I was just thinking about what would he say." She sighed softly. She missed him though she'd never met him. How could someone who she'd never met face-to-face, steal her heart like he had? "He's with his friends, studying now." She added. She was jealous of them, because they could see him almost everyday when she could not.

The wind blew and she shivered. They both watched the sea in silence, but when her father felt her shiver, he decided to break it. "I think it's time we made a move, don't you think?" He looked at her.

She nodded silently. And let him turn her and lead her back to the car up the small slope of sand, then parking lot cement to the car. It was parked at the back.

She looked back over her shoulder as she pulled open the navy blue car door, to the horizon. The red sun had settled behind the clouds. She whispered nine words, softly, so her father could hear her, but then again, he was already inside.

"I love you..." Then his name. "I wish you were here."
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This is for my love. He knows who he is and I hope he enjoys reading it. This story actually happened a few weeks ago on the 21st of February. It's true to the point I remember it. o.o I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm off to sleep now. o.o It's 0:28 (or 12:28 in the morning for some) PST time. xD

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