by Shane Morgan
Reign
Someone shakes my arm. When I open my eyes, Mary’s standing over my bed. She has a sneaky grin imprinted on her face, as she places her finger at her lips and indicates for me to be quiet.
Nodding over her shoulder, she slants and tiptoes out of my room. I climb out of bed and quietly follow her, going downstairs into the dark kitchen.
“Come on,” she whispers, opening the glass door out to the deck. I stride behind her as she walks down the concrete steps onto the sand.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she stops and stares at the dark ocean.
“I’m going for a swim,” she says, smiling defiantly back at me.
I look at the ocean for a fraction of a second, wondering why she’d want to go into such rough waters at night. Then I bring my attention back to her, asking, “Now?”
Rolling her eyes at me, Mary proceeds to take off her blue PJs, pulls out her scrunchie and shakes out her long ash brown hair. “Yes, now,” she jeers, and then dashes off into the ocean wearing nothing but her underwear.
Mary dives under for a moment then pushes her head back above water, laughing excitedly. “Come on, Reign,” she waves me over. “The water’s great!”
I glance back at the house. Dad isn’t working late in the shop tonight. He and Mom are fast asleep. They never let us go swimming at nights and would be mad if they knew we were out in the ocean at this hour.
“Reign!”
The insistence in her voice draws back my attention. I don’t want to not be fun for Mary. She’ll get mad at me again.
So I take a few steps forward, keeping my eyes fixed on her. I can hardly see her face in the darkness, but her head and shoulders are outlined against the pale moonlight.
Mary dives under again and this time, she stays beneath for a longer time before reemerging. She’s enjoying herself, laughing and prodding me over.
I want to join her, be as cool and carefree as my big sister. But I can’t drive Mom’s warnings out of my head.
“Don’t you ever go swimming at nights, you understand me? Ever,” she’d told us. And I always listened to Mom. I liked being her good girl, never getting in trouble. Mary hates that about me. But when it comes to being the good daughter or being the fun sister, Mom wins over Mary.
And as much as I know she’ll get mad at me for this, I still back away from the water and tell her, “We should go inside before Mom and Dad wakes up and find us gone. You know it’s not allowed.”
“Oh, jeez, you’re so boring!” she scolds me. I can’t see her eyes but I know she’s seething, giving me her death glares.
“Mary, please,” I implore. “Let’s go back to bed.”
“Shut up! Just go!” Her voice is laced with anger, all because I refused. I don’t know why she switches on me like that whenever I don’t want to do something she’s doing.
“You’re no fun,” she goes on, “always worrying about Mommy and Daddy. Gosh, Reign, no wonder my friends joke about you.”
I’m angry. I want to yell at her for making me feel like crap so often, but I don’t. I clench my fist and whip around. “Fine!” I grunt, marching up the sand towards the house.
Seconds later I hear a loud rush of waves and a beckoning cry. “Reign!” Coughs… “Rei—” Her voice sounds garbled now. There’s something wrong. I reach the steps to the deck then turn back. She’s not there. I can’t see Mary.
Slowly I step back down on the sand, looking out at the murky water. I want to call her name, but I don’t. I’m still so mad at her.
Then her head pushes up. Mary’s wailing her hands, splashing about. I yelp, realizing she’s further from where she was swimming before. The water’s carrying her away.
“Reign!” she manages to yell. Her head goes under again. Seconds after, she comes up coughing, fighting to stay above. It’s too hard, as if the ocean is dragging her under.
Mary’s struggling to swim back to shore. She can’t do it. But that’s crazy because she’s a good swimmer; she’s on her school’s swim team.
“Hel—” Muffled coughs. Frantic splashes. “Help…” Coughs and more coughs. “Re—” Coughs. “Help!”
Oh my God! My sister is drowning. Why aren’t I doing something? Why am I just standing here, hopeless, sobbing, not doing anything?
Reign! Do something! Scream!
“Mom!” I fly out of the dream, crying. I’m drenched in sweat and my head feels like a construction site.
Mom rushes into my room and scurries over to my bedside, taking me into her arms. “Oh, honey. It’s only a bad dream,” she comforts me.
“I’m so sorry…” I whimper, clinging to her robe. “I should’ve screamed for help. I should’ve screamed for you.”
“Not this again,” she mutters, easing me away. She levels her gaze on my face and says in the sweetest way possible for the umpteenth time, “It’s not your fault, honey. It was a terrible accident.”
“But I didn’t scream for help.” I glance down at my sweaty sheets and speak under my breath, “I didn’t even scream for her.”
She pulls my loose strands out of my face. “Reign, you were in shock. It’s time to move on now, honey. You can’t keep—”
“I was mad at her,” I interrupt.
Mom widens her eyes. She dips her head a bit then asks, “What do you mean? Mad at her for what?”
I get up and walk over to the window, moving the teal curtains away to fill the room with more sunlight.
Then I swallow the lump in my throat and tell her something I’ve concealed all this time. “I was mad at Mary that night. Not just for being upset with me for not wanting to get in the water, but for who she was.”
Mom stands and wanders over to me. “Who she was?” she repeats, sounding confused.
I slump my shoulders as I face her fully. “For being so wild and free, always making jokes and doing fun things. Everybody loved her for that, but they didn’t love me. I’m boring Reign, too concerned with what you and Dad think to try anything fun. I was…jealous of her.”
“Oh honey.” She cups my face with both hands, her aged eyes penetrating mine. “You are far from boring. You’re a wonderful, smart, and beautiful young woman, and your dad and I love you very much. What your sister did that night wasn’t fun, it was dangerous. And if you had gone in with her we would have lost you both in that riptide. Oh Reign,” She cloaks her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
“I may not tell you this often, but even though not a day goes by that I don’t miss Mary, I’m happy that you’re still here.”
“You are?” I sob on her shoulder. “You don’t wish it was Mary here instead of me?”
“Of course not. Don’t you ever think that,” she shushes me. Kissing me on the side of the head, she adds, “It would be wonderful to have both my girls together but I have you. And you are enough. Let go of the guilt, honey. It’s time to let it go.”
Loosening her grip on me, Mom glances over my face and wipes my cheeks. “I love you, Reign, don’t ever question that.”
I nod and stifle back the rest of my tears. Mom squeezes my arms, smiles at me, then swivels and starts for the door. In an afterthought, she looks sideways and says, “Take the day off and drive Micah to the bus station.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as she slips away, closing the door behind her.
It’s Friday. Micah’s leaving today. A part of me is nervous and fears he won’t come back, but I have to trust that he will.
Going back to stare out the window, I glance down at the ocean. The waves are calm, not as fearful as that night. I inhale and exhale deeply, then head to the shower.
Afterwards, I meander over to the dresser and take out my blue one-piece with the thin straps and scoop neckline. It’s the second time I’m putting it on since Ryan’s party, when Nate asked me if I was twelve. Jerk.
Before that, I’d only looked at this swimsuit when Mom brought it home from one of her shopping breaks from the restaurant. I had no need for it then because
I wouldn’t go into the ocean.
Today’s different.
Hauling into the one-piece, I put on a floral print surplice dress over it and slip on my flip-flops. Today’s the day I put an end to my ban. I’m going for a swim, and I’m doing it with Micah. It’ll be something to motivate him to return.
When I pull up at the beach parking lot, Micah’s perched against the stone sea wall. He’s dressed in black trunks, a white tee and black sneakers, ready to go running. He pushes off the wall when I climb out of the car.
“Hey babe,” he says smoothly, meeting me halfway. He kisses me on the lips, it’s soft and lingering. Gliding his eyes all over me, he furrows a brow and asks, “No running today?”
I shake my head and tell him, “I’m ready.”
His lips curl into a teasing grin. “We’ve already past that though. Haven’t we?”
“Stop,” I laugh and jerk his arm in a playful way. “I mean, I’m ready to go swimming.”
“Oh.” He glances over his shoulder at the ocean. “Are you sure?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Yes.”
I lead him down to the sand, and then take off my dress and slippers.
“Come with me,” I say.
He takes a moment to study my face. Then he kicks off his sneakers and pulls his tee over his head.
“All right.”
Micah doesn’t rush me. He holds my hand and stays with my pace as we approach the water. Then suddenly I stop, and so does he.
“You okay?” he asks, sounding worried.
I look out into the ocean and see Mary; sunlight bedazzles her skin and dances on top of the water. Her long dark strands float all around her.
She’s motionless, an unreadable expression on her face as she regards me. I close my eyes for a beat. The night she drowned hits me like electricity, as it always does whenever I try to step into the ocean. Only this time, I have a newfound strength. I refuse to live my life like this. Micah’s facing his issues and so will I.
Opening my eyes, I let out a spurt of air and for the first time I say, “I’m fine,” and actually mean it.
I let go of his hand and observe the water carefully, as if I’m seeing it for the first time. Swallowing the knots in my tummy, I run into it. Without any fear or regrets, I run.
Micah stays close behind, rushing in with me. I can’t believe I’m actually calm, steady heart, splashing up water. I laugh louder than ever, overjoyed to finally unchain myself from guilt. I peer around in the water, searching for Mary. But she’s not here. She’s not waiting for me anymore.
She’s gone.
“You did it, babe,” Micah says, coming up to me. He places his arms around my butt and picks me up above the water, hopping around with me.
Laughter surges from my belly up. I stretch my hands over my head, feeling free as I glance up at the sky and take it all in. This moment is unparalleled, and I’m happy to have shared it with him. In this moment, I’m free.
The excitement doesn’t end when we slither out of the ocean and collapse on the sand, but it reduces long enough for us to drive back to Micah’s place. I keep a smile on as I wash sand and salt off my body, reliving the moment over and over in my head. It still makes me feel giggly, overcoming my fears once and for all. I get a tingling in my stomach thinking about it.
Stepping out of the shower, I slip back into my dress once I dry off. Then Micah and I snack on fruits for breakfast before he starts packing some stuff into a duffle back. The feeling of worry sets in again, as I stand by the door and watch him prepare to head back home.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask him as he rests the bag on the arm of the couch.
He glances over his shoulder and smiles halfway. “I am,” he replies. “I have to be.”
Dropping in a few pairs of socks, Micah zips up his duffle bag and strides over to me, towing me into his arms.
“Are you gonna be okay without me for two days?” he teases, kissing me on the forehead.
“I should ask you that, you’re the one who has superhot babes with crushes back home.”
He grins. “You’re the only superhot babe I have my eye on.” My heart flutters as he presses his lips on mine; so soft, sweet, and blissful.
When he eases away, my pounding heart relaxes. I know it’s time now. I know I have to chill and let him do this.
Micah spins away from me and walks over to get his bag. Draping the strap over his shoulder, he snatches up his keys and cellphone.
“Let’s go,” he says, coming back towards me.
I open the door and we step outside, lock up, and saunter down the stairs. He secures his bike inside and I drive him over to the transport center where he’ll take a bus to the city of Providence, and from there he’ll get on a train to Haxtun.
God! Please let him come back. Please don’t let this be a summer fling for us.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks as we wait on a bench outside for his bus.
“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just that I’m gonna miss you this weekend.”
He slings his arm around my back, massaging it. “Wow, I didn’t realize you liked me this much.”
“As if you don’t like me just as much,” I shoot back.
“Oh yeah,” he laughs.
“Yeah.”
We stare at each other for a long while, smiling, trying to unravel the other’s thoughts. I wonder if Micah feels as strongly as I do. I wonder if he…
The bus pulls up and draws his attention from me. His face tenses as he moves his hand away and picks up his duffle bag off the pavement.
“Well, here it is,” he says, looking back at me as others start making their way onto the bus. “I’ll call you when I get there, okay?”
He embraces me in a clinging hug and kisses the side of my head.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Pulling away, he kisses me one more time on the lips before he starts to leave. I watch his back as he paces over, falling in line behind the people boarding the bus.
Finally when it’s his time to get on, he looks across at me and smiles, waving bye. Feigning a smile, I wave back, and then allow worry to mask my face as soon as he climbs inside the bus.
“Don’t let this be it,” I mutter to myself again, because honestly, I think I’ve fallen for him.
I stand in place and watch as the bus takes off, looking to spot Micah at one of the windows. But they’re so dark it’s hard to see him anywhere. When the bus disappears down the street, I meander back to my car, and like a fool I cry, because my heart is afraid. I’m afraid I’m not enough, that Haxtun will turn out to mean more to Micah than I do.
Thirty-Three
Micah
HAXTUN IS JUST as I left it: a small city with a big heart, as emphasized on the welcome sign. Too bad I didn’t feel the “heart”, when I ended up in my mess.
Climbing out of the taxi in front of Grams’ house, I get a rush of emotions in my stomach. It would feel even better if she was inside waiting for me.
I drape the bag strap over my shoulder and tread up the gravel entrance towards the porch. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force down the burst of emotions and unlock the dark blue door. Instantly I’m met with pictures of me and my grandparents hanging on the walls and that homey smell never left. But that’s not the only thing that catches my attention.
It appears as if someone’s been here. The dark hardwood floor looks like it’s recently been polished, the curtains are drawn, and water’s dripping from the tap in the kitchen. Not to mention there are dishes in the rack. I remember leaving them in the cupboard before I left.
I place my bag next to the door and walk around the living room, seeing if anything else is out of place. It all seems intact, only that it’s clean, too clean for a house I haven’t lived in for a year and few months.
“Hello?” I call out, confused. I walk around to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I push Grams’ door open halfway and peek inside. Her room is the same as I l
eft it. Nothing changed in there.
When I walk to the guestroom across from hers and push the door open, the bed seems as if it’s been slept on, and there’s a suitcase by the closet.
What the hell! Someone’s been living at my house and I haven’t even sold it.
As if on cue, I hear the front door click open. Adrenalin rushes through me. All I want to do is to give this person a piece of my mind for their audacity.
I slip out of the guestroom and go back down the hallway, only to be shocked speechless when I’m face to face with an older version of myself.
“Mitch!” he blurts out, as surprised as I am.
“Dad…what are you…” I trail, caught between wanting to hug him or punch him for walking out on me and Grams.
“I didn’t know you were coming back,” he says, carrying a bag of groceries over to the kitchen counter. “Neighbors told me you took off a while back.”
I tense up, unable to take a step forward. “Yeah, well, I’m here now, so you can just go back to wherever you were.”
He spins around and stares at me, a look of regret morphing his wrinkled face. I can’t avoid looking into his eyes, the same shade of blue as mine. But man he’s aged.
Dad speaks in a calm tone. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not leaving, son. This is my house—”
“This is grams’ house. You abandoned her,” I remind him.
Pacing over to the couch, Dad gestures for me to sit down. I stay rooted in spot.
“Son, about that—” he starts to say.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “You were never a father to me. You left me to Grams while you went out and got drunk every night, then spent your days passed out somewhere.”
“I tried, Mitchel,” he defends himself. “I went to rehab.”
“Yeah, and how many times have you done that only to give up?”
“Oh Mitch,” he grumbles and massages his temple. “I’m sorry I failed you all those times. But I’m clean now. I haven’t had a bottle in five months.”
