I’ll Become the Sea

by Rebecca Rogers Maher

  She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She just looked at him, into his aching eyes. And when he stepped inside her outstretched arm, she held him, her hand against his small back, his forehead leaning against her good shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you meant to.”

  His usually cheerful face was strained and set. “I didn’t mean to. But I’m still sorry.” His lips began to tremble.

  “She loved you, Raymond.”

  Tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.

  “She loved you more than anything, and she was so proud of you.”

  “She told me not to fight.” His voice broke. He looked down at the floor.

  “Yes. That’s true. She didn’t want you to get hurt.” Jane reached out to take his hand, to hold it in hers. “But she believed in you, Raymond. She knew what a good boy you are, and what a good man you are going to become. She knew it. And every day you just keep on proving her right.”

  He looked up into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are, honey.”

  She wrapped her good arm around him, holding him close and then releasing him.

  David stepped forward. “Hey, kid.”

  “Hi, Mr. Casey.”

  David hugged him, bringing Raymond’s head to his chest and patting his shoulder. It was awkward and loving in the way that men had between them and Jane looked away, offering them what little privacy she could in the close room.

  She reached for the tissues in her sleeve and handed one to Raymond, using another to wipe her eyes. Raymond asked if they’d like to meet his auntie. He led them over to the chairs lined up in front of the casket.

  In the middle of the second row waited the young woman Raymond had been seated with earlier. She looked to be in her early twenties. She wore a conservative gray suit, her hair neatly braided and pulled back with a black band at her collar. She stood when they approached, reaching out her hand.

  “I’m Suzanne—Raymond’s aunt. You must be Ms. Elliott.”

  Jane took her hand. It was small and dry, her handshake firm.

  “Hello. Call me Jane. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She held the woman’s gaze for a moment, then turned to David. “You remember David Casey?”

  “David, thank you for coming.”

  They sat down on the cheaply upholstered chairs.

  “Raymond,” Suzanne said. “Would you mind going to get me some water? I think there’s a fountain with some cups down the end of the hall.”

  “Sure.”

  Suzanne waited as he inched through the guests and out the door. “Raymond’s mother…” Her voice was low. She looked first at Jane and then at David. “She passed some years ago, when Raymond was little. Cancer.” She swallowed.

  “It broke Mom’s heart, the way Rosie went. She never got over it. She said we owed it to Rosie to raise Raymond right, so something good could come of her life. She was Mom’s first child. Mom loved her with a passion, and loved Ray as soon as he came into our family.

  “I’m the only other daughter. The boys, they all moved out, they have their families. Mom had a heart condition. Raymond didn’t know about that. She didn’t want him to. She made me promise that if anything ever happened to her, I’d take Raymond. I signed a paper. I’m glad I signed it. That child is mine, and I want you to know I’m going to take good care of him. I know he needs help. I know he hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

  Jane shook her head. “No. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Suzanne smiled. “You’re a nice lady, Ms. Elliott. My family and I, we’re grateful to you and Mr. Casey, for all you’ve done for Raymond.” She looked at both of them, nodding her head. “I’m taking him with me to Florida.”

  Jane bit her lip.

  “I’m about finished with my nursing degree. Ready to start a residency this fall. I’m going to get Raymond into school down there, a nice school, and I’ll get him some counseling too. I know he needs it. We’ll go together. I’m going to do right by him. I love him. I want you to know that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I can see it.” She put her hand on the other woman’s hand. “I knew Mrs. Johnson was a great woman. I see she raised a lovely daughter too. I’m sure she was very proud of you.”

  Suzanne’s eyes filled and she looked away. “Thank you.”

  Raymond appeared at the door, bearing three cups of water, wending his way through the crowd to get to them. He handed them each a cup.

  “Thanks, Raymond.” David laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “We’ll be seeing you before you fly home?” Jane asked.

  “Yes,” Suzanne said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Jane leaned down to kiss her cheek, then turned to Raymond, kissing his temple and running a hand over his face. “Bye, my friend. We’ll see you soon.”

  He nodded, turning to shake David’s hand one last time.

  When they moved through the door, David took Jane’s arm. She leaned into him, walking down the steps with him beside her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was hot in the apartment, the air stuffy and close. She took off her sweater and tossed it on the counter. Grabbing some grapes from the refrigerator and a bag of almonds from the cabinet, she set them in bowls and carried them one-handed out to the living room.

  David leaned back on the couch, eyes closed. His suit jacket lay draped over the side of a chair. He looked tired. He’d been with her three days now.

  She should send him home soon, back to his own place to rest before the work week began. To do his laundry or sit around in his underwear or whatever it was he did when he wasn’t with her. When he wasn’t lying on her couch looking like something she’d dreamed up from a romance novel.

  “David.”

  He opened his eyes, grinned at her. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. His eyes in the bright afternoon light were a deep, piercing blue. She lowered her gaze, stepping forward, and placed the food on the coffee table.

  “I put on some tea.”

  “Thanks. This looks great.”

  She sat down on the floor in front of the table, reaching for a grape. “Thank you for going with me today.”

  “I’m glad we were there together. It’s hard being in a place like that alone.”

  She nodded, watching him. “Do you remember your dad’s funeral?”

  “Yeah.”

  She imagined him hearing the news, having to process the fact that he’d never see his father’s face again. “You were so young.”

  “Yeah.” A flicker of old grief deepened the lines of his face. “I was very young.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Oh, you know. Real involved with the union. Played ball with me on the weekends.”

  She leaned against the table, propping her chin on her hand.

  “I guess I don’t remember him that well. That bothers me. I know he was a good man, a good father. I know I loved him. But I try to remember what he looked like, what his hands felt like, and I can’t.

  “He wore this cologne, though. Don’t laugh—it was Brut. I go to the drugstore sometimes and smell it in the aisle, and boom. There he is. I smell that smell and I remember him hugging me.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Tilting her head, she smiled. “And your mom?”

  He breathed in. “She really…fell apart after he died. Me and my little sister, we kind of had to fend for ourselves for a while. She drank. A lot. For about a year.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s all right. She got sober. Well, then she drank again. And then got sober again. And eventually it stuck. She still goes to meetings. She had us all go, when we were old enough, to Al-Anon. I still drop in on one now and then.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Have you gone too?”

  “Yes, thank God.”

  The kettle whistled in the kitchen.

&nb
sp; “Be right back.”

  When she returned, David was standing, looking out into the trees beside her house. “I hope you don’t mind I opened the window.”

  “No. It’s hot in here.”

  He turned and met her eyes as she stood in the doorway. The tide of his gaze crashed over her.

  She set down the hot mugs and folded herself into the corner of the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, favoring her arm in its stiff cast. Her hands were shaking. She reached for her tea, blowing against the steam.

  “Jane.”

  She looked up. The force of him took the breath from her body. No, she thought. Not now.

  He moved toward her, taking the cup and placing it on the table. Sitting beside her on the couch, he reached for her hand. “What are we doing here?”

  She looked away. She wasn’t ready.

  He turned her hand over in his. His fingertips trailed the inside of her wrist, his thumb finding the pulse point there. Tracing it, stroking it. She felt the current speed through her, felt her own intake of breath.

  “David.”

  She wanted to throw herself against him, into his lap, to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to feel him drive himself against her and into her. The fierce need shot through her, overtaking her before she could think. Before she could stop herself, restrain herself. The way she’d been doing, all these weeks.

  He held her wrist in his hand. Her fingers turned and closed around him. He reached for her face, brushing back her hair, and she sank into his touch, breathing against the palm of his hand. For a moment they stayed like that, perfectly still.

  She couldn’t make herself look at him. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop this. And she had to stop it.

  She pulled his hand away as gently as she could manage. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  He tightened his hold on her, gripping her. But after a moment he nodded. “I know you can’t. I know that.” He eased himself back, letting go of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing you’ve done except be a good friend to me. A wonderful friend. I shouldn’t have…”

  “What? Led me on? Don’t even say it.”

  “It’s not funny.” She bit back a laugh.

  He covered his face with his hands, chuckling, rubbing his palm over the faint shadow of beard. The gesture made her legs weak.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. I knew what I was getting into.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I.”

  They looked at each other, late afternoon sun shining in from the window and onto the fabric of their funeral clothes. Across the couch Jane reached one last time for his hand. They held each other like that, separate, for a long moment, until David rose at last to go.

  “Goodnight, Jane.”

  “Goodnight. Thank you. For everything.”

  He stepped out into the dusk alone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “And then he just left?” Sarah sat on the floor in sweatpants and a baggy flannel shirt, hair tied back in a ponytail. She waved a French fry incredulously in the air.

  “Yeah. He left. What else were we supposed to do?”

  “Well, jump each other’s bones, for one.”

  Jane blushed, burying her face in a pillow. Sarah got up and went to the couch to sit beside her.

  “Poor Jane. A gorgeous, pathologically sweet guy who’s great with kids and always there for you and plays the guitar—he likes you, you like him—how awful for you.”

  Jane took the pillow down from her face and punched Sarah with it. “There is the minor problem of my being engaged to another man, you know.”

  “Engaged? Engaged to whom? I don’t see him anywhere.”

  “Come on. I know you don’t like Ben, but this isn’t nothing. I made a commitment to him.”

  “Not yet you didn’t.”

  “I agreed to be his girlfriend and his fiancée.”

  “His work is his girlfriend. His film is his fiancée. Maybe if John Ford broke his arm, Ben would drive over to his casket and help him wash the dishes for a few days, but not you. Who did that for you?”

  “You did. Want to get married?”

  Sarah laughed. “Name the time, I’ll be there.”

  Jane crossed her legs on the couch. She picked at the stitching on the pillow.

  “David is the one who was here, Jane. That is what a boyfriend is. That, plus the fireworks you’re describing to me…I mean really, do you know what I’d give for that? And you’re telling me you’re willing to settle for Ben? Who goes off across the country for months on end and asks you to ‘take a break’? What does that even mean, anyway?”

  “It’s not settling. I do love him.”

  “What do you love about him? Tell me.”

  “He’s so smart, Sarah. And so focused. He’s not a monster. He’s just involved in his work. He’s passionate about it. He wants to succeed. And he doesn’t like to be crowded.”

  “But you do like to be crowded. You like having people around you, the people you love. It means something to you when people come through for you, and it hurts you when they don’t. I’m not saying Ben is a bad person or that what he wants in his life is wrong, it’s just not a good match for you. He’s not willing to give you what you need. Or not able. Whatever it is, he’s not here. Even when he is here, he’s not here. His mind is on something else.”

  “I should be able to accept that. I shouldn’t want him to be something he’s not. He’s a good man. He doesn’t have to be exactly what I dream up.”

  “No, he doesn’t. But that isn’t going to stop you from wanting him to be, and pressuring him to be. And the same goes for him. He wants you to hold yourself back, like he does, to not be so emotional, to not make so many demands on him. Can you really do that for a lifetime? Be the woman he wants you to be? Because it’s just going to be a power struggle, back and forth, trying to change each other. If you could really accept how he is and not be hurt by it, then fine. But I don’t think you can.”

  “I can. I can accept it.”

  “Then why is David here on your couch every day, holding your hand? Why is he on your mind every minute?”

  “It’s nothing. He’s wonderful, but it’s…nothing. I’m just nervous, maybe, about getting married. And worried about the parole board, and about Raymond. It’s just…all these feelings, they’re just a distraction. And David…he might think he feels something for me, but it’s…it’s not real.”

  “It isn’t? Then why, I repeat, is he here on your couch every day?”

  “We’re friends.”

  Sarah snorted. “Right. Friends. Jane, the man wants you.”

  Jane felt her heart turning over. She forced herself not to react to it. “No. Maybe he thinks he does, but it will pass. Ben is my fiancé. He is the one…he’s…the man I should be with. I just…I can get used to it. I can be less needy, I can give him the space he needs.”

  “Jane.”

  “No, he’s right. He didn’t come home when I broke my arm because he was tired. I’m always…falling apart. David’s just not used to it yet. He doesn’t know.”

  “You don’t really believe that?”

  “I know it.”

  “Honey.”

  “Don’t, Sarah. Yes, I…I feel something for David. But it would be the same with him as it is with Ben, eventually, once he realizes. Anyway, I love Ben. Do you think I don’t love him?”

  “I know you do.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I also know what that love is doing to you.”

  Jane held her hand over her mouth, cradling her face.

  “What do you think happens when you love someone who can’t handle who you are?”

  “Sarah, stop.”

  “Really? Because I think you need to hear this.”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

&nbs
p; “Thank you.”

  “But I think you need to face the fact that David scares the hell out of you.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Okay.”

  Jane leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. “You’re messing me all up.”

  Sarah rested her chin on Jane’s head. “Good.”

  She nudged Jane and stood, heading to the kitchen for the plate of brownies they’d made earlier. She returned with a full plate and two glasses of milk.

  “You’re a goddess,” Jane said.

  “Indeed. So you’re off until the end of the year?”

  “Yeah. The pain’s getting better, but I can’t do anything. I can’t even write my name with this busted hand. The students have all finished taking the state tests, and there are only three weeks left of school. I’m getting workers’ comp, so…”

  “You don’t have to justify it to me. You need the time off. Read some good books, give your arm time to heal. When do you get the cast off?”

  “End of June.”

  “Nice. You going to celebrate?”

  “Um. Yes?”

  “What?” Sarah stopped midbite, brownie still in her mouth. “These are awesome, by the way.”

  “Good. Well. David, he…invited me to go to the pier at Seaside Heights, for fun, after I’m better.”

  Sarah resumed chewing. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Stop.”

  “And are you going to see him before then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just for fun, as friends.”

  “Yes!”

  “Good luck, sister.” Sarah shoved the rest of the brownie in her mouth.

  Chapter Twenty

  Linda sat down in the booth across from Jane. She pushed her wiry hair back from her face, tying it with a faded scrunchy, and reached for a menu.

  “My back is killing me.”

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “Who knows? The doctors won’t tell me anything. They just keep giving me more pills to take.”

  “Are you going to physical therapy?”

  “Mostly. When I can make it.”