San Andreas Island

by Angela Costello

  “Six, wow! I can’t imagine moving countries at six years old. Where did you guys move to when you first came out here?” I continue. Her hands are slippery from all the sweat, but I hold on.

  “Santa Clarita?” She pushes the words out as if they may be the last she utters before this roller coaster ride leads to her doom.

  “You’re kidding! I was born in Valencia. What part of the Santa Clarita were you guys in?”

  “The South side,” she says. Her eyes follow the coaster as it gets louder and closer, rounding the corner. It screeches to a halt, and the passengers unbuckle their seatbelts, lift the safety bar, and climb out onto the opposite side of the platform. I can hear teenagers cheering and one woman laughing loudly, telling her friends she can’t believe how crazy that one drop was! Great, thanks lady.

  “Oh my God. I think I’m going to puke.” With that, Natalia confirms to me that she definitely heard that laughing lady too, who probably raised her freak-out level a couple notches. I see an open spot all the way at the front of the coaster conveniently waiting for us. The attendant yells, “C’mon, you’re up! Step in and buckle up!”

  I can hear Natalia’s heartbeat from where I’m standing. We climb into the coaster, fumble with the clunky seat belts and pull the safety bar down. She’s so vulnerable and looks so innocent. She’s an entirely differently person right now. This side of her is so endearing. Her eyes are locked straight ahead. People are still climbing in, and the anticipation is pretty crazy. I’m waiting for Natalia to shout that she can’t do it. But everyone’s locked and loaded, and it’s now or never. Here we are, riding through fear together.

  “Did you ever go to that Tommy’s Burger on The Old Road and…what was the name of that other street?” I ask, hoping my deflection strategy will start calming her nerves.

  “Huh? Tommy’s Burger?” She looks at me for a whole five seconds. “I used to work there. That was my very first job.”

  “Really? My elementary school was right across the street! We used to walk over there on Fridays. I remember they put this ketchup sauce or something all over the food, right?”

  “Chili,” she says. Her eyes are now fixed on the attendant, who holds our lives in her hands. She splashes more anxiety onto the scene when she interrupts my deflection strategy with the intercom.

  “Keep your hands and arms inside at all times! Enjoy the ride.” Is it really necessary for you to yell into the intercom, lady?

  “Chilly?” I ask.

  “What? Oh, chili. Tommy’s puts chili all over everything.”

  I can smell the chili in my mind as I remember those greasy burgers.

  The roller coaster pushes forward, crawling for a moment, then getting a bit bumpy as it increases its speed.

  “Oh God... oh God,” Natalia’s whispering, but I can hear her clearly over the rumble of the coaster.

  “What job did you have after Tommy’s?” I ask, as we bump along the track. I need to get on this, or she’s going to have a panic attack.

  “I—I was a cashier at Longs Drugstore.” She forces the words out. The coaster is getting louder.

  “Cool. For how long!” I shout.

  “About a year,” she says, gripping the safety bar. Her white knuckles reveal her anxiety level is still high.

  “Ok, and then after Longs Drugstore?” I ask.

  Natalia ignores my question, or doesn’t hear it. I can’t tell. We’re carried above the crowds of tourists and are now facing the ocean. You’d think we were on a helicopter overlooking the water. “The ocean,” she breathes out. I look out where I think her eyes are focused. Whoever engineered this coaster must have carefully situated it to have this exact view in order to prevent panic attacks. The loud clicking sounds and slight jolts come at a steady pace as the coaster climbs the incline. My heart rate is increasing a little, and it’s a familiar excitement I remember from when I would come here as a little girl. The ocean view is breathtaking. It looks like diamonds are floating on the water. An image of my inner child from my dream flashes before my eyes. She’s writing in her notebook, just as she was when I saw her on my kitchen floor, but in my mind’s eye she’s panicked and the look on her face is so fearful it stings my heart. I want to hold onto that image for just a little longer and I’m drawn to her and want to learn more about her, but I blink her away.

  The coaster reaches its peak, then slows down to an eerie pace. We all know what’s coming next. “I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” Natalia shouts. The coaster drops about 50 feet. “Oh fuck!” She screams so loudly, I’m certain the entire Santa Monica Pier stopped in their tracks.

  The coaster rounds the bend at a speed even I wasn’t prepared for. I’d guess we’re doing about 60 miles per hour, but I have no idea, we could be going 20. The pressure presses us back into the seat. It’s not giving us a break just yet. Isn’t this supposed to be a family park?

  “What job did you have after Longs?” I try again, as the coaster finally eases up and calms to a low growl. I don’t think I’ve ever asked for someone’s entire resume as an anxiety reduction technique before. But this is all I can come up with right now.

  “In a law office, then a pharmacy,” Natalia answers. Her breath syncs with mine and I’m guiding her in relaxation exercises without her even realizing it. I think I might see an actual smile on her face. I know her anxiety is still through the roof, though, because we haven’t locked eyes for even a second since we got on this thing.

  I put my hand on hers, and she loosens her grip on the safety bar. The ride is on its final roll and now just coasting. “Wow, I should’ve asked where haven’t you worked. Anywhere else?” I ask.

  “A Pre-School. Two years,” she says. The coaster comes to a complete stop. I can feel her relief.

  “Aww, that’s adorable!” I say. We climb out, step onto the platform and walk down the stairs. “And now you’re a hot, successful entrepreneur.”

  I take her by the hand and stop us in the middle of the crowded pier. We’re right back where we started, standing underneath the words Santa Monica Coaster. Kids and teenagers are dodging us to have their turn on the ride, lovebirds release their clasped hands to get around us, seagulls sing to us from overhead, and the scent of warm churros mixed with the salty ocean breeze fills the air. “Congratulations,” I say, and lean in close enough to kiss her. Our mouths are less than an inch apart, and I can feel her breath against my lip. “You just made it through an entire ride without a panic attack. I’m proud of you.”

  Natalia makes eye contact with me for the first time since before we got in line. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  We stay in this connected space for several more breaths. I lean in, craving her. I need her, I want her, right here and now in this moment. The sounds and colors and life around us fade away. I’m pulled towards her. Her arms wrap around me; the same way they did the night of our sound bath. My entire body is in ecstasy when her soft lips touch mine. We’re slowly letting our mouths explore one another. Between tender kisses, our tongues lightly play. Her hips are beckoning me to reciprocate. My fingers find their way to the belt loops on her jeans, responding to her that I’ll stay for a little longer. I put my finger to my mouth, feeling the outline of my lips, remembering how gentle and attentive she was to every detail of my hands, my mouth, me.

  My phone alarm chimes, an intrusive reminder that we must transport back into the real world. I snooze it, close my eyes and let my lips touch hers, and our tongues taste and play gently for a moment longer. I don’t want this to end..

  It chimes again, attempting to pull us away from our ecstasy. Maybe this is a sign that I need to have morals. I’m a married woman. I scroll through my texts. Client, client, Helen — and on my dad’s.

  Dad: Please call me

  My body tenses up.

  “What’s going on?” Natalia nudges at me.

  “It’s my dad,” I say. It’s taking me a moment to digest what
I’m feeling. My typical panic mixed with annoyance is gone. Really, it is. I don’t feel that stinging in my chest, and my palms are dry.

  My thumb scrolls up to his number and hovers over it for a bit. Ok, hello panic. There you are. My heart is pounding fast.

  I look up at Natalia. “Am I really doing this? What happens next, then? I don’t even know if I want a relationship. Does this mean I approve of him not protecting me and defending his brother?”

  “He’s a human being who didn’t know any better and tried his best as a dad,” Natalia says.

  I press the number and hear it ringing. My thumb floats over the End button for three rings. I press End and toss the phone in my bag. My heart is racing. I can’t do it.

  “Try it. See what it’s like to say it,” she says.

  “Ugg, I can’t.”

  “I forgive you,” she helps me.

  I stare at her.

  “I forgive you,” she says again. “Forgiving someone else is not about the other person, you know. It’s about releasing yourself from holding onto resentments and letting that person rent space in your head. The longer you hold onto this, the longer it will keep affecting how you let people treat you and how you love. We accept the love we think we deserve.”

  “I forgive you,” I say aloud, as I reorient myself back to reality: standing here by the ocean, next to a person who truly cares about what’s going on with me and what will make me happy.

  I look down at my phone again.

  Dad: Please call me

  I scroll down to his number.

  It’s ringing…and ringing… now silence. I can feel him on the other end of the line. Natalia holds my hand.

  “Jelina? Is this you?”

  My mouth is partly open, but no words are coming out. I pull the phone away from face. It’s so strange to hear his voice. It’s softer than I remember.

  “Jelina?” I bring the phone back to my ear.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Jelina, oh my God! It’s you,” he says, just as shocked as I am.

  “I’m sorry it took me this long to call you.”

  Natalia rubs my thumb with hers, as our hands stay clasped.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything.” His voice is shaky. I can almost see his tears in my mind.

  “I don’t want you to worry about me anymore. Please know I’m ok.”

  He’s silent, but I can hear him sniffling.

  “We’re ok,” I say. “You and me. I’m not holding onto anything any longer.”

  “Oh dear, I love you,” he says through tears, and breathing heavily.

  “Take care, Dad. I have to go, please take care of yourself.”

  I press End on the phone.

  Natalia grazes her hand across my cheek, wiping my tears away. “You ok?”

  I close my eyes and breathe in the ocean air. A wave of calm washes over me. My shoulders feel lighter. “Yeah, I think so. I couldn’t stay on the phone any longer. I just couldn’t.”

  “It’s ok,” Natalia says.

  “This is all so surreal. This day is surreal. Life truly is a dream, isn’t it?” I look up at her.

  “It really is,” she says.

  “Maybe I’ll let this all sink in tomorrow morning,” I look out at the ocean.

  “All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other. Just keep going,” she says, connecting the dots of the freckles on my arm.

  “Keep going?”

  “Yes, sometimes life nails us, or we want to give up. Or things feel too difficult. Just keep going,” she kisses my thumb.

  “Thank you for the best lunch break in the history of lunch breaks,” I say.

  “My pleasure,” she kisses my lips one last time and just when I come to and open my eyes again, she’s gone.

  I breathe in my Natalia drug as I float in bliss walking along Ocean Avenue on my way back to the office.

  Strange, guitar guy isn’t out here in his usual spot. I gasp and put my hand to my heart as it hits me.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  The Jump

  I pull into the driveway, shut off the engine and see Lily asleep in the backseat with the groceries I got from the store in the seat next to her. I sit in the car for several minutes. Don’t neglect your happiness for anyone. You can live happier beyond your wildest dreams. Those words won’t escape my mind. I’m done living like this; dying like this. It’s over. He’s never going to change. And Lily deserves a mom who shows her how important it is to take care of herself, and to live in a home where she isn’t soaking up all of our tension, but where she can feel safe and carefree. I never want her to feel trapped. We always have a choice, and there’s never the right moment to make changes. I get my phone and scroll to Natalia’s name.

  Me: To say thank you for today would be an understatement. You are magic

  Natalia: It’s you who is magic

  Me: Sleep well xo

  Natalia: xo

  I take a deep breath Dylan will be wide awake from now until three in the morning. Add that to the list of arguments and marital distance that started the first year of our marriage. I spent countless nights begging him to come to bed with me, or to lay down with me, longing for him to pleasure me the way he did the very first time. He was the only person to make me climax that way. But those days are over. We’ve transformed from passionate lovers to distant bitter roommates. He became comfortable refusing to come to bed with me, saying he wasn’t tired or not in the mood, and I eventually stopped asking, and surrendered to falling asleep feeling rejected and taken for granted—for years.

  Enough!

  I tap Lily’s knee and she wakes up. I grab my work bag and groceries, and Lily and I climb out of the car and into the house. Dylan is seated at the dining room table in front of his laptop. I’ve never known what he does on there. He used to get annoyed and defensive when I would ask. So I stopped asking. I stopped trying anymore. Is he looking at porn? Maybe; it would explain why he isn’t as starved for sex as I am. Is he chatting with other women? I don’t think so. I do trust him when it comes to monogamy. Did he just add another grand to our debt for something he just had to buy, even though we’ve already had a bankruptcy, foreclosed on our previous home, and maxed out our other credit cards? Probably. It’s quiet, I’m clear-headed and calm. Sadly, I think I’ve officially stopped caring anymore.

  “Hey,” I say as I set my bag down and walk over to the dining table where he’s sitting. Lily’s energy perks up a bit and she goes straight to Dylan and sits on his lap.

  “Hey, guys.” He kisses Lily on the head, looks up at me and leans over as we exchange our obligatory peck on the lips. “How was work?” He asks me with his eyes on the laptop screen and tapping on the keyboard with one hand.

  “It was fine,” I say, not surprised that I’m at the bottom of his priority list - or even on it? "Hey, I’m going to help Lily with her bath and after I put her to bed I really need to talk to you tonight.”

  “About what?” He looks at me. I usually fall asleep reading to Lily at bedtime.

  “Let’s talk after she’s in bed,” I take Lily’s hand. C’mon Lily, it’s time for your bath, and then we’ll read Ellie’s Story.” She loves her new chapter books, and they make all the difference in getting her into bed.

  ****

  I come back to the dining room and see Dylan’s already put the groceries away. Wow.

  “Thank you for doing that,” I tell him. I sit down at the table across from him. I know I’m catching him off guard, as I never stop and sit this late, or stop and sit—period. I’m always throwing in another load of laundry, doing dishes, or catching up on paperwork.

  He can feel I’m different. I have his undivided attention for the first time in seven years.

  He closes his laptop. “Whats going on?” he asks. He looks genuinely concerned, as if he’s seeing me for the very first time in years. We’re having uninterrupted eye contac
t. I haven’t seen him look at me in years, or really see me. I follow his eyes as they examine my face, my arms, and my collarbone. For the first time, I don’t feel invisible.

  “You’ve gotten thinner” He says, looking at me from head to toe.

  I’m not even going there. “I need to tell you something,” I say. I can’t believe how calm I am. I’m not crying, I’m not yelling, I’m crystal clear.

  “What? What is it?” he asks. He’s leaning forward, and his expression is one I can’t really decipher.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “What are you talking about? What the fuck does that even mean?” Alright, I know what his expression is now. Fear. I haven’t seen it on him before. “Can’t do what?”

  “This is so hard for me to say to you. And I don’t want to cause you unnecessary pain. I kept thinking all night, Who am I to you anymore? Why should I tell you this if it might hurt you? We don’t even act like husband and wife anymore, we’re bitter roommates. And I feel so much contempt. I’ve reached the point of no return. But I don't want to lie to you and say I’m hanging out with a friend or you don’t hear from me for hours and I say I was busy. I just don’t know how to do this except what I’m doing now, which is to talk about it.”

  “Just spit it out! What the fuck is going on?”

  ”I’ve fallen in love with someone.” I’m still surprised by my own calm, but Dylan’s not. “We were intimate,” I confess. I don’t know how much to tell him. I just know that my days of being too nice are a thing of the past.

  “You were intimate? What the fuck does that even mean?” Ok, I know that look on his face quite well. It’s the one I hate the most. The one where he thinks I’m the biggest idiot in the room. That motivates me to cut to the chase.

  “I want a divorce, Dylan.” There they are, the words that for years I never thought would even enter my mind, let alone come out of my mouth. But in this moment, I’m jumping off of the burning sinking ship that’s become our marriage.