Seven Tears at High Tide

by C. B. Lee

  Copyright © C.B. Lee, 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN (trade): 978-1-941530-47-4

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-941530-48-1

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015943652

  Published by Duet, an imprint of Interlude Press

  http://duetbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All trademarks and registered trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  Book design by Lex Huffman

  Cover Illustration by C.B. Lee

  Cover Design by C.B. Messer

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For anyone who’s ever felt they had to choose.

  Contents

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Six.

  Seven.

  Eight.

  Nine.

  Ten.

  Eleven.

  Twelve.

  Thirteen.

  Fourteen.

  Fifteen.

  Sixteen.

  Seventeen.

  Eighteen.

  Nineteen.

  Twenty.

  Twenty-one.

  Twenty-two.

  Twenty-Three.

  One.

  Kevin kicks distractedly at the wet sand beneath his feet. Bits of broken seashells and stray pieces of kelp fly up as he goes, but he doesn’t bother looking through the debris or even admiring the glint of dark mica in the sand grains. He just keeps walking forward, lost in his thoughts.

  The morning is typical June gloom with gray clouds hanging thick overhead, and the water has yet to take on that shimmering azure pictured in all the postcards. In a few hours the clouds will burn off and the sky will be bright and blue; the water will be dazzling, making picturesque waves as it splashes against the rocks by the lighthouse. But for now, dark waves crash onto shore in noisy tumbles of gray-white foam, and water surges up the beach, darkening the white sand.

  Kevin takes a deep breath and tastes salt in the wind. Seeing the water extend to the horizon; listening to the sound of the waves tumbling ashore; thinking about how the sea is an inevitability, a constant, as it follows the rhythms of time from ages long past—these things never fail to calm Kevin and fill him with awe. It’s a familiar comfort, coming to the beach for quiet contemplation of his place in the universe.

  Yet today the beauty of the ocean barely seems to register. Kevin ignores a greeting from a couple holding hands on their morn­ing beach walk, who are chatting excitedly about their trip to Hearst Castle.

  Tourists.

  The summer brings them out in droves, smelling of sunblock and spreading out all over the beaches in their cars and bikes and RVs. They stop in Piedras Blancas to see the lighthouse and the seals and for the picturesque ideal of the central California coast. Kevin normally doesn’t mind all that much, but right now the idea of these happy strangers makes his own misery stand out starkly in comparison.

  Today only a few earnest joggers are making their way down the trail along the bluffs; no one else is on the shore now, aside from Sally at the lifeguard tower. Her shift doesn’t start for another hour or so, but he knows the college student likes to watch the sunrise and study before the day gets busy. She props her feet up on the sign that reads: “Lifeguard on Duty from 8 AM to Sunset, Swim at Your Own Risk!” and waves at Kevin.

  He doesn’t have the heart to stop for a conversation so he just nods, hoping she’s too far away to see his red and puffy eyes or the dirty tear tracks smudged on his cheek.

  He thought this summer would be so different. He and Miles planned to hang out every day, go surfing, play videogames, study for the SAT together. When Miles moved next door in February, Kevin had been sitting on his front porch reading an adventure novel. He was startled out of the story when he heard the moving truck’s horn blare, like a herald’s announcement. Kevin looked up to see Miles stepping out of the moving truck, and time just seemed to slow. Miles had flipped his blonde curls back and waved hello with a dazzling smile, and it was as if the hero from his novel had come to life.

  A guy his age, a hot guy his age, who came over that first weekend and wanted to hang out and didn’t laugh at watching The Lord of the Rings, which was the first thing that popped into Kevin’s head when Miles asked him to hang out. Kevin was so distracted by Miles’ pretty blue eyes and his jawline he had stumbled over his words, but Miles said yes.

  Kevin was nervous throughout the movie, wondering if this counted as his first date, if they should sit closer. Or was that too fast? Kevin started babbling about random neat stuff like the cast filming in New Zealand before he realized he was probably coming off as a huge nerd. But Miles just said, “You’re pretty cool,” and made Kevin blush hot when Miles bumped his shoulder playfully. Miles was the kind of guy whom the popular crowd courted—attractive and athletic—but Kevin met him first, and they were friends.

  It was awesome. Miles didn’t seem to mind Kevin’s low social status and was grateful for the company on their daily bus rides to and from school. His transfer in the middle of the year meant he was behind in making new friends, and Miles constantly told Kevin how lucky he was to have met him.

  It was great, having someone to sit with at lunch, and do homework and watch movies with. And then when Kevin thought it couldn’t get any better, one afternoon in late May when they were walking home from the bus stop, Miles kissed him, laughing when Kevin fumbled and attempted to reciprocate. “You like me, don’t you?” Miles said.

  Miles’ words ring through Kevin’s head now, but his playful tone has turned mocking. Kevin always liked Miles more than Miles liked him. Kevin was too caught up in the thrill of making out for the first time, too quick to agree they weren’t boyfriends, nodding when Miles told him he wasn’t ready for that. Kevin thought that, once Miles realized how much the weeks of stolen moments and secret smiles had meant to him, their friends with benefits situation would turn into a real relationship.

  But apparently their time together meant nothing, nothing at all.

  Kevin wipes away the tears leaking stubbornly from his eyes and walks onto the pier. His bare feet stick wetly to the wooden planks that creak beneath his feet as he heads toward the ocean with the salty wind sharp on his skin. He walks past the surf crashing on the shore, keeps going out where the waves are still growing, to the edge of the pier, where no one, not even the joggers, can see him cry. If anyone notices, they will see a boy sitting on the edge of a singular man-made construction, small against the vastness of the ocean.

  It’s exactly where Kevin wants to be. He wants to look out into the ocean and feel as if he and his problems mean nothing in the face of the never-ending waves. He wants to feel the inevitability of the tides rolling in and out, of the ocean churning rocks into sand. Being on the beach, watching the rhythm of the ocean has always helped him feel peaceful.

  But today the calming view throws into stark relief the turmoil Kevin feels inside. He can’t focus on anything but how broken and rejected he feels.

  This summer—this was supposed to be ours.

  Yesterday afternoon, Kevin walked over to Miles’ house, and suddenly everything was different. He had made plans for them, argued with his sister about borrowing her car so he and Miles could drive down to San Luis Obispo and have the whole day to themselves. A theater was showing a Marvel m
arathon, finishing with the newest movie, and Miles had been excited about it for weeks. They were going to be blissfully alone, and maybe Miles would realize that they were far from school and no one would recognize them, and they could hold hands and kiss and do things regular couples did.

  Everyone in their small town knows who Kevin is and that he’s bisexual. He’s been out since freshman year and never thought he’d have to hide who he dated. Kevin wanted Miles to be comfortable, so he agreed to say nothing about them being together. He figured the movie marathon could be a way for them to have an actual date.

  But when Kevin told Miles about the plan, Miles laughed in his face and said, “I don’t get where you get off thinking I’m gay, or that I would hold hands with you all day in a movie theater.”

  “Okay, so maybe bi then, like me, or whatever you are, that’s all fine,” Kevin said. “I thought you said last week you wanted to go. I got my sister’s car tomorrow, and we could totally go—”

  “I told the guys on the soccer team I’d go with them to the marathon.”

  Kevin narrowed his eyes. These were the new friends Miles was so excited to hang out with? The same guys who had made fun of Miles and his thick glasses when he first transferred to their high school?

  “Where are your glasses?”

  Miles kicked his foot at the air. “Got contacts,” he muttered. “Better for sports.”

  Kevin had to admit that without the glasses Miles’ face was even more handsome, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Miles’ eyes. “Okay, how about the day after tomorrow?”

  “Uh, that’s when summer practice starts, and I really have to get into shape to catch up to all the other guys. Plus I’m not gonna watch it twice, just for you.”

  “What happened to ‘I wish we could hang out all the time’?” Kevin asked, thinking about the time he and Miles had been curled up in his bed watching a movie together, hands intertwined. Miles had kissed softly along Kevin’s jaw and whispered in his ear.

  Miles turned bright red. “That’s not—I didn’t mean that. Look, we’re not a couple or anything. I’ve just been hooking up with you because you were convenient, okay? I mean, you’re pretty cute for an Asian guy, but you talk about rocks too much and… I haven’t been doing myself any favors hanging around you at school, never mind if I dated you. And I have real friends now, people who count. I don’t need you anymore.”

  “Are you serious?” Kevin asked, frozen where he stood.

  “Yeah. You should go. Skylar is picking me up so we can go buy new cleats together.”

  Sure enough, a car pulled up and Skylar Williams, the richest kid in school and captain of the soccer team, stepped out. He swung his keys jauntily as he walked over and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. Kevin had to resist rolling his eyes; everyone at school knew Skylar bragged about going all the way to San Francisco for his fancy haircut, but Kevin has known this kid since the third grade and knew that Kevin’s Aunt Lisa has cut his hair once a month since they were both kids.

  “I didn’t know you knew this loser,” Skylar said, giving Kevin a sideways glance.

  “We’re just neighbors, Sky,” Miles said, and Kevin bristled at the familiarity of the tone. Skylar had called Miles a ‘four-eyed freak’ on his first day of school, and now Miles was giving him nicknames?

  “Wow, that sucks,” Skylar said. “I can’t imagine seeing his stupid face all the time.”

  The sting of hurt only intensified when Miles said, “I know; it’s the worst,” and then laughed along with Skylar.

  Kevin didn’t even have a comeback, just turned tail and ran straight back to his house.

  It was difficult to keep his feelings in; he didn’t have a valid reason to be sad in front of his family. They didn’t know he had been dating anyone. How would Kevin explain that he’d had his heart broken by a boyfriend who had turned out not to be a boyfriend?

  Kevin sits on the edge of the pier, dangling his arms and legs through the slats of the wooden rails; bitter tears streak down his face. A thick mist hangs off the horizon, making the sea look ominous. He can’t see the oil rigs in the distance because of the cloud cover, so the ocean seems unmarred and fathomless.

  The high tide continues to come in; water rushes past the posts. Kevin watches strands of seaweed float by as the waves bob through the tangles and make for the shore. He has a great joke about kelp he planned to tell Miles, but now Miles isn’t here, because Miles is a complete jerk who was leading him on the entire time.

  A fat tear falls off Kevin’s cheek and into the tide.

  Good, he thinks. More salt for the sea.

  Another tear, and then another.

  Something Kevin’s mother once told him comes back to him, one of her old stories from her childhood in Scotland, something about seven tears at high tide and wishes.

  Kevin blinks again. He has nothing to lose by making wishes based on old wives’ tales and he lets the tears roll down his face. He counts to seven, wipes his face and watches the tide.

  There’s no sound but the rush of water churning, the wind blowing through his own hair and the slight creak in the wooden plank when Kevin leans back.

  “I just want one summer,” Kevin announces. “One summer to be happy and in love. I’m sixteen; I get to be stupid about this. I want to have someone who isn’t afraid to hold my hand, who’ll make out with me when we watch movies, surf with me, go hunting for rocks with me all summer long, someone who’ll like me for me and won’t drop me for the ‘in’ crowd.”

  A strange sound, like a drawn out bark, comes from below him, breaking the waiting silence.

  Kevin looks down.

  A seal is in the water; its shiny brown eyes look back at him. Its dappled gray and black fur is shiny and soft-looking, sleek with water. The seal tilts his head at Kevin, as though he’s considering, and then spins about in a circle.

  A small smile tugs at the corners of Kevin’s lips as he watches the seal swim around the edge of the pier, making noises and chasing its tail, disappearing for a bit in the kelp forest and then coming back, as if he’s performing. The seal’s a bit far from the rookery, but it’s not unusual to see them by the pier.

  This is the weirdest behavior Kevin has ever seen in a wild seal, and finally he can’t help but laugh. The seal barks once more, and it almost looks as if it’s smiling in approval.

  “Thanks, dude,” Kevin calls out to the seal, who just warbles at him and swims along the pier as Kevin starts to walk back to shore.

  The seal waves a flipper at him before ducking under an incom­ing wave, and Kevin loses sight of him under the water.

  Oh well. It was an unexpected diversion from what Kevin is sure will be the rest of his terrible, lonely summer.

  Kevin is almost at the edge of the dock when he notices some­­one thrash­ing in the water, their pale arms barely visible in the incoming wave. It’s still early for swimmers. The surfers aren’t out yet, and Kevin can tell this guy isn’t wearing a wetsuit. The water has to be ridiculously cold, and yeah, he’s definitely struggling.

  It’s a good thing Sally usually gets here before her shift starts. Kevin glances at the lifeguard tower, expecting to see her rushing forward into the waves, but the station is empty. Out of the corner of his eye he spots her in the parking lot, rooting about in the trunk of her car.

  It’s a quick, immediate decision. Kevin rushes over. Wet sand sinks beneath his toes as he races across the beach and into the surf. The person is only waist deep, flailing, but Kevin doesn’t judge; it can be pretty easy to be knocked off your feet. Kevin grasps a hand and pulls him out—a teenager with messy brown hair and a face still round with baby fat. He sits up unsteadily. He’s holding something in his other hand, something dark that looks like a wetsuit all folded up. That’s weird. Did he want out of the suit mid-swim?

  Kevin’s heart races,
but the boy doesn’t seem to be injured. In fact, he only seems mildly surprised and looks down at his arms and feet as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. He looks up at Kevin and grins, and Kevin is struck by how sunny and bright his smile is and forgets to move. Still holding the boy’s hand, he lets the next wave roll in

  Water surges around Kevin’s body, but he doesn’t notice. The boy’s sandy brown hair is plastered to his face, and he pushes his hands clumsily at the wet fringe until it’s out of his eyes. The morning sun reflects warmly in his brown eyes, on his wet hair playfully tousled by the surf. The next wave pushing past them doesn’t seem to faze him. There’s a sense of wonder in his eyes, a bright curious joy that radiates outward.

  All right. All right. Kevin realizes he’s been staring. He lets go of the soft hand, noticing how cold the other boy’s skin is.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks.

  The boy nods his head. Water drips from his dark hair, down his face and the hollow of his throat and pools at his bare collarbones. Dimples form in his plump rosy cheeks when he smiles at Kevin, and there’s a smattering of light freckles across his nose. He doesn’t speak, just looks warmly at Kevin. Shining droplets clinging to his eyelashes catch the morning sunlight, and Kevin has to catch his breath.

  “C’mon, you should dry off. You look like you’re about to catch a cold.” Kevin reaches out his hands again and the boy lets him pull him towards the shore. He stumbles a little, and Kevin holds him steady until they’re both out of the water.

  Kevin blushes when he realizes the boy is naked and quickly averts his eyes. “Did you lose your swimsuit in the tide or some­thing? Or are you one of those guys who doesn’t wear anything under their wetsuits?”

  Kevin catches a glimpse of a very nice butt as his new friend turns around and gives the ocean a strange look, as if he expects it to answer Kevin’s question.

  The boy turns back and tilts his head at Kevin.

  “Too cold to answer, I get it.” Kevin unzips his hooded sweat­shirt and hands it to him. “Here, warm up in this. I’ll go see if the lifeguard has, like, a towel or some spare clothes.”