San Andreas Island

by Angela Costello

  I pull myself up off the ground, and Lily jumps up and down. “Mommy, look!” I find myself in both awe and confusion.

  Eyes wide and jaws hanging open, Lily and I look around. What we see doesn’t look like magic to me. This is eerie, it’s chaos, it’s confusing. Our entire neighborhood is demolished, houses are flattened, fires are burning in the distance. I can’t recognize a single thing. We’re not in our house. We’re not in anything. We’re outside! We lost our entire house!

  My eyes try their best to take in what’s around us. The bright sun is heating my skin. The baby blue skies calm me as I’m trying to figure out this Twilight Zone I’m in. It looks like we’re floating on a tiny piece of land.

  This

  is

  unreal.

  I can’t quite make out what’s happened. Is my entire neighborhood one little island? There’s my hot neighbor’s house—across from us, with about a hundred yards of ocean water between us! I lift my gaze and take in this strange and scary, yet intriguing, new world. I feel like I’m standing on a boat in the middle of the ocean, but I’m where Lily’s bedroom used to be.

  People are moving in slow motion, lifting large objects out of the way together; others are yelling for each other, and still others are crying. Pieces of wood are strewn across the ground, street lights and electric poles are asleep on the broken concrete, just as exhausted as the rest of us. Did the quake break off the California coastline? It must have been along the San Andreas Fault! We used to joke about it, but never in a million years would any of us have imagined it would become a reality.

  There’s a stillness in the air as I’m digesting this new life. It’s an eerie moment as my perception adjusts to this surreal movie scene. What day is it? It feels like months have passed, or maybe I’m on The Truman Show. Or maybe I need anti-psychotic meds like Helen suggested.

  Lily’s footsteps crunch the rubble as she steps closer to me. I take her hand and I’m ready to console her tears, to comfort her panic, to soothe her worries. But there’s no need. She’s fine. She’s calm, looking around at everything, taking it all in just like I am. We probably look like two little kids at a zoo. But there are no lions, tigers or bears. In their place are houses we don’t recognize anymore, the ones we used to walk by when I brought her home from school. Ocean water surrounds us - a whole new life.

  I keep expecting to see sailboats, surfers or paddle-boarders floating on the water around us, just like we do every day at this time of year, but there’s not one in sight. Cars are trapped underneath light poles, and the earth is broken up in such strange ways. I’m used to the sidewalks in the neighborhood being uneven and a bit broken from mini-quakes we had back when I was in elementary school, and from the large trees’ roots proving that nature can push through man-made concrete. But this is an entirely new dimension.

  The fog is beginning to clear, and it’s like I’m at Universal Studios and we’re standing in a lot amongst actors filming a movie, doing action scenes in various locations around us. I want to stay in my cozy little Lily bubble, before I risk jumping out there with the rest of them. “Let’s find our socks and shoes.”

  Lily still has her socks on from the night before. That gives us one less thing to search for. She immediately finds her unicorn sneakers. They still have the iridescent shine on the edges. She slips her foot in, and pulls up the mini wings on the end of the zipper that runs along the outside of the sneaker. She does the same with her other foot and stands up again.

  I lean over and kiss the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo scent is now gone, and instead I catch a whiff of dust and oil and sweat. “Ok, my turn!” I say. I point to my dust-covered feet. “Let’s see if we can find my shoes in this haystack.” I see what used to be our bathtub. We head towards our phantom bathroom, and I try to follow the map in my mind to remember how far the master bedroom was from there.

  I swear, my feet are catching every sharp edge underneath them right now. Damn, that hurts! I can already envision myself sitting with my foot up and a pair of tweezers at some point, performing self-surgery to remove God knows what from my skin. I try to stay on my toes, and wish I wasn’t so sensitive, and that I could be more like my neighbors next door who go barefoot every day of their lives.

  Before this disaster, when I would walk from my door to the beach, I would never leave without my flip-flops. The hot sand would be unbearable for the few hundred steps it took me to reach the water.

  “I see your shoe rack, Mommy!” Lily’s already climbed up and over the fallen bookshelf laying on the ground and is pulling out shoes, trying to find matching pairs.

  “Be careful,” I say. For what? I don’t know.

  Two white matching sneakers. It’s unbelievable how easy that was. Now, it’ll be a miracle if I can find my socks. I see my dresser. The drawers are smashed in and look like crooked teeth. I press the palm of my hand against the top of the dresser, and let my other hand curve underneath the drawer handle to pull it. It’s jammed shut. I pull again, more forcefully this time. I push my foot against the base of the dresser in an attempt to gain more leverage. Am I really straining all my muscles for some socks right now? This is so bizarre. I pull hard against the handle, and it rips off, sending me tumbling backward to the ground. “Seriously?” I shout.

  Lily’s laughing and mimicking me. “Seriously?” she says. I have to admit, the whole thing is pretty ridiculous, and I can’t help but join her. I reach over and tickle her tummy. She’s giggling and tickling me back. I hate being tickled, but I tolerate it from her. Who can resist those contagious giggles?

  “Ok, ok, ok,” I say, begging her to let up. She gives me a break, and we both lay flat on our backs, catching our breath, looking up at the sky. It’s truly beautiful. It’s hard to believe what’s going on right now. We lost our home; everyone we know did. We lost our neighborhood, and maybe our city. Did Los Angeles really break off at the San Andreas Fault? I really wish I could Google this right now.

  A seagull caws and soars across the blue sky overhead. I return to reality and hear the sounds of people around us trying to salvage and repair what’s theirs. I stand up and attempt the sock challenge again. I consider for a split second that I could just wear my sneakers without socks. One more try, and if I can’t get into this damn drawer, I’ll just have to deal with that.

  I see that the bottom drawer is still intact and not wedged in like the top drawer. If I can wiggle the bottom drawer a bit and get it out, I’ll be able to reach up from underneath and reach the drawer above, pull that one towards me and remove it. Then I can get my precious socks. It goes exactly as planned, and the dopamine rush is pretty rewarding. I put on clean socks, along with my sneakers, and voila!

  “Where’s Daddy?” Lily asks. Oh my God, how have I not thought the same thing? What’s wrong with me? I squint as the sun beats down on us. I can feel the almost unnoticeable swaying of the ground underneath me. How am I so numb right now? I remember feeling this during the quake, and it’s still surprising me. I do wonder where he is or how he is, but I’m not panicked and overly consumed by everything that is him, like I have been for the last seven years.

  I catch glimpses of people in clusters on their own missions. We’re all trying to figure this out, but it feels like we’re all connected and in this together. I lead Lily on a search for any sign of Dylan.

  I see Sally who lives in the blue house down the street. “Hey, Jelina! You guys ok?” she shouts from across the way.

  “We’re looking for Dylan!” I shout back.

  She walks towards us. “Oh! I saw him about an hour ago trying to gather some guys to help find you two. He went that way,” Sally points to the left of us.

  “Thank you so much!” I say to her as she reaches us.

  “Want me to go with you guys?” She asks.

  “Yeah! Please. This is all so crazy!” I respond.

  We begin walking in the direction she told us.

 
I look up at the sun, and think about how fast that thing’s going to move—it’ll be dark before we know it. We’ll need light. I haven’t even checked my phone until this moment. There’s no way there’s reception. I pull it out of my pocket, and click the home button. Dead. How are we going to do this? We’re starting from scratch. Water, food, electricity? Where are we going to sleep? We’re in survival mode.

  I look around at all the rubble and homes in shambles, and the image of my dream retreat that I’ve drawn on countless napkin flashes in front of me. I can see it all. Tents with signs, pathways to each of them, the fire pit in the middle, paddle-boards hanging on racks, and people painting and playing guitar. I see it all clearly.

  My heart sinks when my eyes try to find Sunkissed Café. “Natalia,” I whisper. A tear escapes my eye as I imagine the worst. She has to be ok. She’s strong. We’ll find her. Fuck! This is so hard. I wipe the tears from my eyes.

  “Ok, what can I help with?” Sally shakes me out of my fear-trance.

  “Can you get as many people to gather flashlights, food, blankets, and as many water bottles as you can find?” I’m scared, and I don’t know what I’m doing. “Let’s all meet back at the Magic Sand Castle house before sundown.” The words just spill out of my mouth.

  “Where?” She’s perplexed.

  “Over there.” Lily says and points down the block, where a shiny silver door smiles back at us. “That’s where the Magic Sand Castle house used to be!” She’s so assertive and the fact that she’s even jumping in and speaking to another human being is blowing me away. Who is this kid? My heart warms with delight.

  “You got it,” Sally responds. I’m shocked by how grateful she seems to receive my command.

  I have to get back to my mission with Lily. We need to find her dad. I catch Lily’s expression. She seems concerned, but for the first time in her four years on this planet, I can see confidence in her eyes. I like this look. It suits her well. I keep a tight grasp on her hand as we climb over sheet metal and broken walls.

  “This way!” I shout.

  Dear God, please tell me he’s ok. Just don’t do this to her. Lily needs her father. It’s so easy to die. We work so hard and go through such pain and sorrow, studying hard and paying bills, and then we die—just like that. No replay. Simply game over.

  “I’m sure he’s helping people or maybe he got tired and he’s sleeping. Let’s look for some water and something to eat until we find him” I say, praying we’ll hear him any moment now. I’m panicked that we’ll find him in the worst way imaginable. I just can’t fathom her seeing that. I attempt to distract her so that I can screen for any dead bodies before she discovers them.

  “But what if he’s over this way, Mommy?” she says, pointing in the direction we were headed before. Lily’s too smart for me to get away with these casual distractions like I could when she was a toddler. With her hand still clasped in mine, I speed-walk us in the opposite direction. She has to pick up her pace to a run to keep up with me. We hike across what used to be our suburban neighborhood.

  “Why are we going this way?” she asks. Before I can come up with some elaborate answer as I try to pull her away from a possible PTSD trap—only to fail miserably—nature rescues me.

  Lily releases my hand. I slow down as I see a butterfly fluttering her red wings around us. Lily’s eyes are fixated on every flip and turn it makes. I feel the tension in my shoulders loosen as I’m watching the two of them dancing together. They’re in their own little world. I’m so drawn to this sweet scene that I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking.

  My foot catches on a large white strip of what looks like the fence from the neighbor’s yard three houses down. It’s definitely their fence, because I also see their silver door, which always intrigued me when Lily and I would go for walks. Her favorite Magic Sand Castle House, because it was steps from the sand that led to the beach. I swear, the light from the ocean water would hit the silver door in such a way that she was right. It was glowing.

  Now, it’s blended in with the rest of us. Amidst all the rubble, it’s impossible to tell where the Magic Sand Castle ends and where the other homes begin. We’re all one.

  A blurry figure comes barreling through the crowd out of nowhere. His face is beet red, but I’m blind from exhaustion.

  “Daddy!” Lily shouts. She runs over to Dylan, who’s running towards us about fifty feet away.

  He catches her as she jumps onto him. Dylan’s holding her up; she’s got her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms are tight around his neck. They’re both giggling.

  “I’m a tree. You can climb me,” Dylan says, and Lily giggles and squeals. He squats down, and lowers them both onto the grass. He’s sitting cross-legged and Lily’s cuddling up against him.

  I see him so differently now. He’s no longer my husband. He’s Lily’s Dad. “I’m glad you’re ok,” I say.

  I feel as though I’ve been in a washing machine, punched and thrown and caught and retrieved. My head is spinning. I don’t even know which way is up. Everything I’ve ever known is gone. Who I was is gone. I’m going to be a divorced woman now. My entire neighborhood has been demolished. I’m starting from scratch. Do I still do therapy? How do I make sure Lily still gets everything she needs? Do we have electricity, and clean water to drink? Am I ever going to see my family and friends again? I’m nervous, but surprisingly calm at the same time.

  Lying on the grass, Natalia’s face floats into my mind. My heart stings a little. I’m not ready to think about what’s happened with her. I’m going to keep her right here in my heart with me, just as she has been since the moment I met her in that accident on Ocean Avenue. When there was an Ocean Avenue.

  I take a breath of fresh air, close my eyes and transport myself to our sound bath ecstasy, the moment she walked up to my car, when she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my chest, and our Santa Monica roller coaster ride, walking hand in hand talking about anything and everything. I never thought I’d say this, but thank God for that accident. It saved my life. She came into my life for a reason, and made me feel alive.

  I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, inhale her love, and open my eyes as I exhale, letting my gaze rest on the soft sky and gentle clouds. The sky says hello, as it always does. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to count on in my life. No matter what’s going on, I can always look up at the sky and she’s there for me.

  My brain’s trying to make sense of this new reality. I sit here, on the path that used to lead to Surfer’s Park, looking out at the ocean water. Lily’s telling Dylan the play-by-play of our rescue mission.

  My arms are resting on my knees. The sunlight is hitting the surface of the water in such a special way. I can’t take my eyes off of this beautiful live painting. An artist has magically taken a thick paintbrush and created long wavy strokes of dark blues and turquoise in front of me. He’s painted thin white borders along the tips of the waves where they splash against the curves of the land. And he’s now sprinkling glitter from his fingertips and spreading them across the waves. They are a sea of diamonds.

  I see a vision of my six-year-old inner child from my dreams. She’s sitting near the edge of the water, cross legged, with her notebook in her lap. All my life, I’ve been letting her down. I remember writing letters and thoughts in my notebooks. I have no clue to whom I was writing, but I do know writing is where I feel safe and hopeful in a world where I felt alone and lost.

  I’ve been overworking my inner child, and pushing her to the limits, exhausting her until she’s burnt out. I haven’t been paying attention to her, and I’ve even forgotten about her. I’ve put everyone else’s needs—especially Dylan’s—before hers. I haven’t asked for help, or let anyone help her. I’ve felt ashamed of her, and I’ve neglected her, treating her the same way she was treated as a child. I don’t give her any time or attention; I tell her she’s not good enough and not beautiful, that she’s s
tuck with repeated self-talk and criticism. I’ve shamed her with hateful messages and images in my mind that haunted my with hallucinations.

  But she’s been with me all along. She’s within me. She is me. It’s my job to protect her, and I promise to do that from here on out.

  We all get up off the ground to walk back towards the house—or what was our house. A folded piece of paper falls out of Lily’s pajama pocket. “What’s this?” I ask her, and grab it.

  “That’s my Sketch,” she says.

  I unfold the little paper and a surge of electricity moves through my veins. “Your island sketch,” I whisper. I look up at my surroundings. Crumbled buildings surround us, flattened homes, and ocean water separates us from our neighbors down the block.

  We’re on that island now. How is this possible? It’s all so surreal. I’m going to wake up at any time.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Aftermath (Fall 2028)

  It’s been five years since the day our lives changed forever. Natalia was never found after the earthquake. I kept looking for months and months. I see visions of her in my daydreams.

  I exhale, and settle into my hammock, adjust the pillows so they’re just right, draw a blanket over my legs and start scrolling through my phone. I pull up the detailed news report that was published at 5 a.m. this morning, giving us answers to questions we’ve been stirring around since that fateful day.

  We’ve all been hungry for this kind of information, sitting with the surreal feeling in our stomachs that the landscape of Los Angeles has completely transformed, and that this isn’t all just some strange dream. What’s kept me dumbfounded is that my name is in this news story. Yes, me! I opened the news report three hours ago, can’t even count how many times I’ve read it since then. Needless to say, I have pretty much memorized this thing by now. I’m still looking for Natalia’s name to magically appear no matter how many times I read this.