by D C Grant
Chapter Eighteen
Josh lay where he’d fallen, spitting blood until a couple came down the steps and walked out on to the road. They didn’t see him in the dark shadows of the house and he waited until they’d gone before he pushed himself up, using the side of the house as support, and moved around the corner of the house. He reached the empty deck and tried to look inside the house, but all the lights were off in the large room and he could only see shadows. The music was low and the sliding doors were closed.
He left the house behind him, only just managing to stay upright as he walked through the dunes and onto the beach beyond, walking down to the water’s edge. Small ripples of water washed over his feet, filling his shoes but he didn’t care. The moon was behind him, having just come over the Waitakere Ranges, and its dull light lit up the phosphorous on the waves as they ran up the sand. He looked beyond to where the waves were breaking. The swell was building up and pushing up the waves.
There was an ache in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d had when he was at his grandmother’s house on Christmas Day. In the clear moonlight, with the cold water at his feet, he recognised the ache in his heart as despair. Gina had betrayed him, Bevan had beaten him, his father had robbed him of his future and his mother had abandoned him. Even now there was probably a YouTube video of his humiliation being posted on the internet for the whole world to see. There was nothing left to live for.
The waves soaked the bottom of his jeans. He stepped forward, going deeper into the water. The waves pulled him in further as the denim of his jeans became sodden and heavy. He’d heard that drowning was a painless way to die. He waded in further and the water came up to his knees. He wondered how long it would be before his body washed onto to shore, if ever. Perhaps then Gina would regret what she had done to him and maybe even Bevan would feel guilty.
He shivered. The water was cold and his sodden jeans were becoming heavy. Not much further now and the water would be up to his hips. Somewhere in the darkness there would be a rip and if he found it then the water could take him. All he had to do was close his eyes and let himself be carried away.
A wave broke against him, the water now up to his waist. He turned his back to the waves to take a last look at Piha. When the sea came to take him, he didn’t want to see it coming. He wanted his last vision to be of the place that he loved so much.
Almost all the lights were out in the houses up on the hill. The ranges were a shadow against the deep blue of the sky, the light of the moon silvering the edge of the hills. To his right was Lion Rock, guarding the beach as it would for many years after he was gone.
Another wave surged around him. He could feel the tug at his feet as the water rolled back. All he had to do was lift his legs and the sea would carry him away.
He stopped. The sensations of his recurrent dream overwhelmed him: the wave pushing him down, the water in his nose and mouth, not being able to breathe, the panic and the fear. He couldn’t do it. He had to get out of the water.
He pulled against the force of the waves. It was harder now that he wasn’t going with the water. He stumbled and the sea grabbed at his ankles, pulling him down under the waves, but he pushed himself up and came out above water level. The sea retreated behind him, rushing out to join the next incoming wave, which surged forward and broke around him. It tried to push him down towards the sand, but he maintained his balance and pushed his way through. The sea made one last attempt as he staggered out, but the water was too shallow and he fell forward onto the wet sand. A small wave embraced him from head to foot, then ran out, leaving him cold and wet on the sand.
He turned over and sat up, looking back at the sea. “Not today,” he whispered to the foaming waves.
There was a strong wind blowing off the sea and he started to shiver. He had to get home and change into dry clothes before the cold air did what the sea had been unable to do. When he stood up the wind cut right through his clothes as though he were naked and chilled him instantly. He began to walk, staggering across the sand, his feet squelching in his sodden shoes. He turned away from the sea and headed towards the dunes, but had difficulty climbing them. The sand gave way under his feet and for every two steps he slipped back one. He would have cursed, but his teeth were clamped together. If he released them, his jaw would start to chatter uncontrollably. It wasn’t much better on the road. There was a less wind, but the tarmac had lost the heat from the day and was just as cold as the sand.
With a sigh of relief that started off a bout of chattering teeth, he turned into his driveway. The house was in darkness. He staggered up the steps and collapsed at the front door. He’d made it so far and now his strength ebbed away. He reached up to turn the front door handle, but it wouldn’t turn. It was locked. He began to shake the door, crying out to be let in. When no one came he slumped against the door as tears pricked at his eyes. He just wanted to go to bed.
A light snapped on inside. A key turned in the lock. The door swung inwards and he fell inside. He felt no pain from the fall. He glanced up at his father who looked down on him in astonishment.
“Josh, where the hell have you been?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you know what time it is?”
Josh couldn’t answer. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way inside.
His father closed the door and knelt beside him, then turned his head away, wrinkling up his nose in disgust. “You stink,” he said. “You’ve been drinking? I told you not to go to that party. How did you get so wet?”
“Went for … a swim,” Josh stuttered.
“In your clothes? Are you mad? Come on, let’s get you to bed. It’s three o’clock in the morning. I’ve been lying here awake waiting for you. You really know how to test my patience. Come on, get up. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
His father helped him to his feet and then supported him as they made their way to Josh’s bedroom. There he sat Josh at the edge of his bed and pried off his shoes and then began to undo the buttons on Josh’s shirt.
Josh brushed his father’s hands away. “I’ll do … it.” He wondered why his mouth wouldn’t work.
His father took hold of Josh’s hand and held it in front of his face so that he could look at it. The fingers were all blue.
“You think you can do it with these?” he asked. “Your lips are the same colour. Why’d you get into the water at this time of night? You could have drowned. If I don’t get you out of these cold clothes, you’ll get hypothermia.”
He was being rough now as he jerked the shirt off Josh’s arms. Josh could tell he was angry, but he was comforted by the fact that his father was taking care of him. His heavy eyelids began to close as his father was struggling to pull off the sodden jeans.
“Hey, Josh, don’t go to sleep on me just yet,” his father said, shaking him as he tugged at the jeans that were gathered at his ankles.
Josh smiled sleepily. His head sunk onto the pillow and his father pulled the covers over him. He was home. He could sleep.
From a distance he heard his father say, “We’ll talk in the morning,” then he was gone, lost in the darkness that engulfed him.
