I’ll Become the Sea

by Rebecca Rogers Maher

  They climbed the stairs, pausing to watch a speeding train shudder to a stop on the platform. Passengers climbed out of their cars and trudged down the ramp, breathless and laughing. A rail-thin teenager in a Metallica shirt raised his fist in the air, pointing a set of devil horns at them as he passed. “That was awesome!”

  “Yeah?” Jane looked dubious.

  “Hell yeah. You gotta sit in the front car, though. Only way to ride.” He jumped off the end of the platform.

  “We have to get the front,” David said.

  “We do?”

  “You heard the guy.”

  They headed for the lead car, cramming their bodies side by side into the cramped seat. Jane pulled the safety bar down over her lap and clicked it into place, gripping the metal with both hands. The ticket taker swept by, dancing to the thumping music. He gave the bar a yank to make sure it was secure.

  David grinned on the seat beside her. “You’re the best, Jane.”

  The car jerked into motion, creaking its way up the first steep incline of the ride. She shut her eyes, listening to the tapping of the turning gears as they inched upward. She hated roller coasters.

  At the top of the incline, she opened her eyes. The train of cars paused, standing on a precipice fifty feet above the pier, a hundred feet over open water. At dusk, the waves breaking beneath them shone a deep, incandescent blue.

  She gripped the side of the car, bracing herself to keep from falling. As if there were anything she could do to stop the car’s trajectory into the ocean. One slipped screw, one loosened bolt, and the weight of their bodies would hurl them over the side of the track and into the gaping Atlantic. Nothing stood between them and free fall.

  David turned to her, exhilarated, his eyes glowing bright against the lavender sky. He smiled that slow, drawling smile that made the bottom drop out of everything, and she felt herself tipping, giving way, the air sucked out of her lungs as they raced over the edge of the first hill. She screamed aloud in genuine terror, and groped for his hand.

  She heard David’s laughter, his whooping, as the car careened around the curves, flinging them right, left, and right again. With her free hand, she gripped the safety bar, every muscle in her body tensed and clinging. He held tightly to her hand, the imprint of his fingers like a branding iron against her wind-scraped skin. They rose to the next hill, the carnival a rush of sound and light beneath them.

  At the top, in that moment of hesitation before the fall, he pressed their clasped hands against the top of her thigh, bearing down as if he could anchor her to the seat. The heat of his skin spiked through her as they sped down the hill, and she held on, screaming into the roar of the racing train, gasping, the breath leaping out of her in great helpless gusts. She closed her eyes through the final twisting curves and let the speed crash through her, the noise, the flashing lights, the slap of salty air.

  At last, they entered the final straightaway and braked to a halt. She waited, eyes shut, breathing deeply to rein herself in.

  “Jane?” He put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m okay. Did you like it?”

  “Yeah. I shouldn’t have dragged you on, though.”

  “No, it was great.”

  The bar release clicked and she lifted it. David stood and jumped off the car, offering his arm as she stepped down. She took it, letting go as soon as her feet hit the landing. She led the way to the exit, stumbling a little as she stepped off the stairs and onto the hard pier.

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “A bit wobbly.”

  “You were scared?”

  “Yes.” She said it with force, and he stopped short.

  “Really?”

  She nodded, blinking, then shook her head. “I’m being silly.”

  “No. Come here.” He reached for her before she could think to stop him.

  She wasn’t ready to be touched. She was too unsettled still, too unguarded. She flinched when he took her in his arms.

  Gently, he laid the palm of his hand against the back of her hair. His cotton shirt was soft against her face. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she was fine, but her throat, raw and dry, made no sound. She blushed, remembering how loudly she had screamed, how tightly she had clung to his hand. She turned her face into his chest. Just for a moment, she thought, until I feel like myself again.

  The wood-smoke smell of him seeped into her skin. She listened to his heart beating, letting its steady rhythm drown out the noise around them and calm the last of her embarrassing trembling. “It was beautiful up there.”

  He leaned back, his hands sliding down her shoulders and past the pale skin where her cast had been to the small curves of her wrists. “Yes, it was.”

  She tried to step out of his reach but he held her, enclosing her hands in his.

  “Do you want some water?” He offered her a bottle from his backpack. The cool liquid soothed her throat.

  “Thank you.” She looked away when he put it to his own lips, feeling the heat in her face rising. She searched the pier. “Do you want some cotton candy?”

  “Oh, my God, yes.”

  She bought a large cone at a concession stand. The cloud of pink was light in her hands, almost weightless. She took a small piece as they entered an alley of carnival games and handed the cone to David.

  To her left, a group of young girls huddled over a ring toss, cheering on their friend as she aimed her hoop toward a frog on a mechanical lily pad. To her right, three brothers lined up behind a set of pistol shooters. Two of them were in their teens, big, gangly and loud. The third was small, no more than eight years old. He stood before the game reverently, taking his water gun in hand with a grave silence while the older boys jostled and swore.

  “Go!” the oldest shouted, and three arcs of water sprayed out to advance a set of dancing bears upward toward the finish line. She stopped to see who would win.

  David handed her the cone. Absently, she took it, letting the game absorb her, tearing off a strand of candy and folding it into her mouth. She’d almost forgotten how sweet it was, how instantly it melted in your mouth. The small brother’s bear inched toward its target and she watched, cheering him, slipping her thumb into her mouth. Absently, she licked off the sugar.

  The little guy hit his target, ringing the bell, winning the game. His brothers clapped him on the back. “Way to go, dude.” The kid’s grin was almost bigger than his face.

  She turned to smile at David.

  His eyes were on her lips, on the wet mark of her tongue on the pad of her thumb. She took her fingers from her mouth, shoved them in the back pockets of her pants.

  “Jane.”

  The voice of a barker erupted from the stands. He thrust his chin at David. “Buddy! Win a prize for the lady?”

  The man stood before a series of red-and-white boards, pointing at Jane with the business end of a dart. Winking, he flipped the dart around, extending it to David. “Let’s go, guy. Everyone wins. Dollar a dart. Hit the center, win a teddy for your sweetheart here.”

  “I’m not his…”

  “Sure.” David stepped up to the counter. “Three darts.”

  She held back, watching him hand over the money.

  He took the first dart. His back was to her, but he turned before he aimed, his eyes casting back and catching hers, hooking and pulling her in. She took a step closer. The muscles in his back flexed as he pivoted to the target, his body loose and relaxed, his arm poised to release. He shot the dart in a straight arc toward the center of the target. Nailed it.

  “Nice!” She put her hand on his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  “You get a big one with that, guy. Want to give the lady a try next?”

  David smiled, handing her a dart. “Your turn.”

  She held it, narrowing her eyes, and shot, sinking the point into the outer line of the target.

  “Not bad. Yo
u hit the circle.”

  “Try again.” The barker handed her a second dart. “He won one for you, you win one for him.”

  She stood back, planted her feet apart and focused. She shot the dart. Hit it dead center.

  “Whoa!”

  David slapped her outstretched palm, grinning. “Nice work.”

  She picked out a small stuffed whale for him. He gave her a plush mouse. Hooking his arm through hers, he pulled her close enough to feel the muscle of his hip and thigh, the coiled strength.

  Something had changed. She could feel it. She tried to push it away for the sake of their friendship, to keep herself from wanting, to keep herself from hurting.

  It was useless. It did hurt. She couldn’t make it stop hurting.

  She wanted him. She wanted the energy that ran off his body, the darkly sexual energy, the heat and the musk and the sweetness of him. She wanted all of him.

  “Want to try the Himalaya?”

  She let out a sharp breath. “Sure.”

  “You okay?”

  She squeezed his arm in hers, trying not to register how solid it felt against her. “Yes.”

  They walked over in silence to the old spinning ride. She held the mouse in her hand, her fingers buried in its soft fur. “It’s getting crowded.”

  “You still up for it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Jane.” They stood in place at the end of a long line. “Did you go on the roller coaster just for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But it stinks to go by yourself. I wanted you to have some company.”

  “You were scared, though.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. I didn’t want you to know.”

  “You don’t have to keep things like that from me. I can handle it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it, Jane.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell me something else you’re scared of.”

  “Why?”

  “So I’ll be prepared next time.”

  “To call the authorities?”

  “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Evil trucks with no drivers, hunting me down in the dead of night.”

  “Well, of course. Who isn’t?” David laughed. “What else? Tell me something real.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She thought about it as the line for the ride inched forward. “I guess I’m afraid of letting people down. Not being useful enough.”

  “Which is why you went on the ride with me.”

  “I suppose so, yeah.”

  “Who expects so much from you that they’re going to be let down?”

  “Um. Everybody?”

  “What do you mean by not being useful?”

  “Oh, that I won’t do right by someone, I guess. I won’t take good enough care of them, I won’t serve some kind of function. And then they’ll leave me. I know it’s stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid. You make yourself indispensable, and no one will know what a rotten person you really are inside.”

  She chuckled. “Yes.”

  At the entrance to the ride, windblown passengers stepped off and filtered out the exit door. Jane handed over their tickets and chose a booth in the middle, a two-seater painted green and silver. She sat near the ride’s center while David took the outside, his arm stretched out over the back of the seat.

  As they settled in, she remembered the peculiar thrill of this ride, from long ago when she’d ridden a similar one as a child. She and Sarah had gone on together, giggling and shrieking as the force of its whipping speed pressed them against each other.

  The motor revved up and she felt the ride begin to spin, dance music rolling out with a deep, heavy bass.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” the operator’s voice boomed into the mic, “wanna have a little fun tonight?”

  Jane buried her face in her hands. He was so close to her, she felt the vibration of the music in his body.

  “Uh huh. Uh huh. Here we go!” The canned cheer of the operator made her giggle despite the tension in her body.

  They began to move faster, the circle of cars rolling up and down over minor dips and shallows as they spun. She felt herself slipping into David, pulled by centrifugal force toward the outside of the circle, yanked against his side.

  Each rotation ramped the ride up to greater speed. Deafening music pumped in around them from all sides, and soon, though she tried to keep herself back, she was squeezed so tight against David’s chest and hip that their two bodies threatened to merge into one.

  He was laughing, trying with great effort to pull his arm out from between them, to wrap it around her. She gave in, laughing too, leaning into him. She closed her eyes, forgetting to be afraid, forgetting to hold back, and let him embrace her as they spun.

  * * *

  At a meditation class some years ago she learned a visualization exercise. In her mind she would stand on a narrow path overlooking the ocean, gazing down a steep set of stairs to the sea. One step at a time she would descend, breathing in, holding her breath, breathing out—until she reached the water.

  She stood for a moment with David at the top of the stairs, the carnival behind them, the ocean below, thinking that if she could breathe tonight in the same way, she would know what to do, what to feel. But as the wooden steps gave way to sand, she was no closer to knowing her own mind than she’d been in the crush of the crowd. She walked beside David with the sound of rushing waves in her ears, holding her sandals in the loops of her fingers, silent.

  She’d said she needed some air. The fairgrounds were too close, thick with the smell of sugar and sweat, ringing with sound. She’d wanted space to breathe in, some quiet. Now, it was calm enough to hear his footsteps, to hear the breeze rustling his windbreaker. She risked a look at his face and instantly regretted it, shivering.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  “Take this.” He unzipped his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric was warm from his body and smelled like him.

  “There.” He pulled it partially closed and looked up into her face. His hand stopped for an instant at her chest, his fingers still closed around the zipper.

  She held his gaze, willing her mind to go blank. She couldn’t let him read what must be plain to see there. The knuckles of his hand were warm against her breastbone. She resisted the urge to lean into them. She shut her eyes and pulled away instead.

  “Thank you.”

  The air by the water was clean, threaded with salt and the smell of the briny foam scattered over the shoreline. She took it in, deep breaths of it, trying to clear her mind. To simply enjoy David’s presence beside her. To make herself accept it, to not ask for more.

  “Jane.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a neutral smile. “Hmm?”

  “I wish you didn’t feel like you had to be perfect.” His voice was quiet. She felt him watching her.

  “It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Beside them, waves rolled in against the shore and rolled out again.

  “It’s a hard way to live, though.”

  “It makes me try to be a good person.”

  “You are a good person. You don’t have to try.”

  “Thanks, pal.”

  “I’m serious, Jane. People should love you for who you are, not for the function you serve for them.”

  “Maybe so. But they don’t, really, do they?”

  “They should.”

  “I guess.”

  “You think you serve any particular kind of use for me?”

  “No, actually. If anything I’m a huge pain in the ass.”

  “Why do I keep you around then?”

  A ripple of warning ran up her spine. “I don’t know.”

  He stood very still beside her and looked out to the ocean.<
br />
  “I wonder how the water feels.” He dropped the shoes from his hand and padded across the sand as if he were taking a stroll across a field.

  She watched as he waded in, not slowing, not flinching, letting the ocean swallow him up to the knees. She waited, and then she followed him into the waves. “David.”

  He turned to her. The night sky lit up his face and she saw him, all of him: dark hair against tanned skin, eyes so piercingly blue they seemed to arrow straight through to the center of her.

  It was time. She could see that. She didn’t know what she was going to do when he reached for her, but she knew she wouldn’t stop him.

  He closed the distance between them, taking her hand and pulling her in deeper.

  She let herself be drawn in. Her balance gave way in the moving water, in the sand shifting out from under her feet. She put her arms around him to anchor them. She let her head fall forward to press against the space below his throat.

  “I keep you around,” he said, “because of the cookies.”

  She smiled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.

  The deep, rich scent of him flooded into her. It broke something inside her. She gathered the soft fabric of his shirt in her hand and pulled him half an inch closer.

  “What are we doing?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

  He ran his hand up her spine to her shoulder. He spoke into the nape of her neck. “We’re doing what we both want to do.”

  He slid his hand into her hair. An uncontrolled sound tore from her throat.

  His body was tight and rigid against hers. Waiting. Ready for her. She shuddered, her hands moving to grasp the rough outside seams of his jeans. She took his hips in her hands and pressed him closer. All around them, black waves lapped against the shore.

  He grazed his mouth over hers with a gentleness that bordered on violence. She tasted the exhalation of his breath. The intimacy of that made her legs tremble. He tightened his fingers around the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her closer. It had taken too long. They had waited too long. She was desperate for him, and terrified.

  He ran his tongue over her lower lip, and she gasped, arching involuntarily against him. He slipped his thigh between her knees, opening them, pressing her body down against the length of muscle in his leg. The force of his hold on her, the rawness, ripped away their balance. They lost their footing in the water.