Wash Ashores

by Anne Fall

  "I think I'd like to go, Hanna. I haven't really been to a mass except for Christmas Eve services."

  "Well, it'll do you good. Run along and get ready, quickly." As Sylvia turned to do just that, Catherine spoke.

  "I think I'll join you, if you don't mind, Hanna dear. I could use a little salvation, not too much, mind you." She laughed, pleased.

  "Of course, Catherine. If you like."

  They rushed out of the house in a flurry. Sylvia had dressed quickly and carefully in one of her nicest dresses. She pinned her hair up in a tidy bun and splashed water on her face, spilling droplets down the front of her dress. Catherine was dressed modestly. She looked prim, almost. She seemed quite different, really.

  "Why are you so quiet today, Sylvia?" Catherine put her hand on her knee. "You don't seem quite yourself." Sylvia felt her color rising.

  "I just don't feel well. I couldn't sleep last night."

  "I came in so late, I barely remember getting up the stairs. I hope I didn't wake you up."

  "I didn't hear you come up." Sylvia turned and looked out the window. The telephone poles flew past, one after another. She counted them in her mind.

  "I don't think Eric slept well, either. He was still sound asleep when I woke up. I couldn't even shake him awake."

  The church parking lot was full. They circled before finding a narrow space. The car squeezed in with Hanna muttering under her breath.

  "If these tourists knew how to park, we'd all be in better shape." Sylvia squeezed herself out, the car door only a little ajar.

  The church rose up in front of them. The exterior was shingled in the classic Cape fashion, but the shingles had not yet weathered. They had a warm, tawny color. There was a simple but stately steeple, symmetrically flanked by the main building.

  The minute they walked in, Sylvia could smell the faint but distinctive scent of hymnals. It always reminded her of the scent of sawdust. Hanna was politely nodding, shaking hands, and making introductions. Sylvia eyed what looked like Jefferson cups filled with water mounted on either side of the entrance.

  "This is Vivian Fanning's niece, Sylvia. She's been spending the summer with us, and she's been an absolute delight to us all." She turned to Catherine and floundered for a moment.

  "I'm Catherine, a friend of the family." Catherine extended her hand meekly.

  These courtesies were exchanged for a bit until it was time to be seated. A priest and other men processed to the altar. Sylvia turned to look at Catherine, who smiled down at her.

  "Don't worry, little Protestant. They won't get you." A shiver went through Sylvia. There were words, something about sin. Sylvia fumbled, trying to mouth the words.

  "I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. Therefore, I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God. May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life. Amen." She managed the amen.

  The hymn came sweetly. She carefully looked around, studying the faces singing with their mouths opened roundly. They were all looking ahead, never at each other. Were they staring at the cross? Something in their mind? She couldn't be sure.

  She didn't recognize him at first. Her eyes went over him once and then saw Agnes. She started. She looked around Agnes and spotted him. He was standing stoically, singing. Her heart began to pound in her chest. A tall man with strength in his silhouette stood next to David, his father. They seemed so peaceful, so serene. Mary Katherine, whom she could barely see on the other side of David's father, was there, too. A prayer began. Moments passed, but she had stopped listening. She stared at David, willing him to look at her. He looked so tall and slender next to his father, so young. There was a man at the front of the church reading.

  "For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh, so they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate."

  Sylvia felt herself redden, and Hanna stiffen beside her. Oh, God, please no, she thought. She faded in and out of listening. She realized she was resting her feet on the long and low rail near the floor. The red velvet on it was wine colored. What was that called? She knew she would have to kneel. She did not know what it was called. Catherine nudged her gently, looked at her feet on the rail, and shook her head. Sylvia tucked her feet quickly under the pew.

  "Marriage was established by God the Creator for the unitive purpose and the procreation of children and their education. As an eternal partnership, the holy union is achieved through their mutual consent…" Sylvia tried not to listen, tried not to think. She again turned toward David. He had his head down, looking at his knees. She had to go to the bathroom, but she did not think she could during the homily.

  "Children are the supreme gift of married love…" The voice was hard not to hear.

  "Catherine. I have to go to the bathroom."

  "Shh, wait until after the homily. I'll go with you. Can you wait?" Sylvia nodded.

  She began to recite the Lord's Prayer in her mind over and over so she would not have to listen. Who was separated? Who was joined? How could two become one? She was not sure she wanted to become a single entity, fused to someone else for eternity. What had she done? The overwhelming nature of the night before poured over her. She had been an object, still life, really. She could have been a bowl of fruit or a vase of flowers, the way Eric had looked at her. A non-entity.

  "It's over, come on, follow me." Catherine stood slowly, walking toward the side of the building. As she stood, Sylvia felt him look before she raised her eyes. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. She almost tripped over the rail.

  "I'll be right back," she murmured to Hanna.

  They found the bathroom after some confusion. They had to cross the length of the back of the church to get to the other side of the building. She was glowing red, hot, confused. It was a tidy church bathroom with pale pink tilework covering the walls. A blue upholstered chair sat in the corner. Catherine promptly sat down and waved in the direction of the toilet.

  "Go ahead, I won't look at you." Sylvia stopped.

  "Catherine, please."

  "Oh, all right. I'll go." She stood and left. Sylvia locked the door before using the toilet. When she was done, she washed her hands while looking at herself in the mirror. She had circles under her eyes. She looked away and focused on her hands, washing and washing them. She could not fathom how she would walk back into the sanctuary. She dried her hands, unlocked the door, and looked at Catherine. She stood across the way, leaning against a wall, fingering her wedding band.

  "We did not have a Catholic wedding. Eric is not religious at all, and he refused such an idea. I've always regretted it, a little. We had a civil ceremony. I wore a royal blue dress with white pearls. It was sweet, in a way. But, we should go back, come along."

  Sylvia held her breath when she entered the sanctuary. The congregation was saying the Lord's Prayer. They made their way back to Hanna as quietly as possible. Sylvia thought they should wait until the prayer was over, but she went with Catherine. David had his head bowed.

  "Don't try and take communion. Only Catholics can take it here." Catherine said this as delicately as she could when they sat down.

  "I know." She watched people approach the table. Sylvia knew they believed that Christ was present in the Eucharist. Staring at it, she waited to feel God. Something stirred in her, but she was unsure what to make of it. She looked to her left and saw a statue of the Virgin Mary. Her smooth face appeared so sad, so achingly sad.

  Her mother regarded praying to Mary as somewhat pagan, a strange ritual. Sylvia found herself comforted by the sight of her. She missed her mother desperately.

  When they were leaving,
she saw David's dark head through the crowd, moving toward her. A brief panic came over her. He met her eyes as he came closer, turning his gaze to Hanna and Catherine briefly.

  "Sylvia. How have you been?" He was hesitant.

  "I've been okay."

  "I didn’t know you were Catholic."

  "I'm not. I'm just…visiting." The words felt like an admission, as if she were just in another place in his life where she was transitory.

  "Who is this handsome man, Sylvia?" Catherine knew who he was.

  "This is David, Catherine. David, this is Catherine. She's a friend of our family."

  "How do you do?" He shook her hand lightly.

  "You must be the young man with the motorcycle." David blushed. "I do hope you're careful with her on that thing. She's our absolute treasure."

  "She is a treasure." Sylvia glanced at Catherine in warning, pleading.

  "Well, I won't interrupt you two. Hanna, let's go start the car. Sylvia, you'll be right along?"

  "Yes, of course."

  David took the back of her arm and steered her through the crowd toward a quiet alcove. It was another Mary shrine. She wore beautiful lapis blue robes that pooled over her feet. Sylvia found herself fascinated by the curve of her neck. There were roses strewn around her.

  "That's Our Lady of Guadalupe." He watched her watching Mary.

  "Yes, I remember the story—roses on the site where a chapel was to be built, rare roses from another place."

  "Yes. Roses from another place." He smiled slightly. "Sylvia. I am sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said. I've missed you. This…it isn't easy for either of us. I know that."

  "I'm sorry, too. I really am."

  "Maybe we could go to Provincetown soon. You haven't been out that far, have you?"

  "No, I haven't. I'd like that." They walked away from the alcove, setting a date, talking about time.

  CHAPTER 14

  "You nudist!" Ella teased.

  "Please, don't."

  "But, Sylvia. I didn't think you'd have it in you. Really."

  "Thank you, Ella. Thank you for that. I live to surprise you."

  The two girls were lying on the beach together. It was a public beach, and it was crowded with people. Towels in primary colors lay everywhere with white skin burning in the sunshine. Beach umbrellas looked precarious, as if they could be blown away. Ella was lying on her stomach, heels pointed up at the sky. Her skin was oiled, shiny and wet. Sylvia could see her reflection in her sunglasses.

  "Let's just not, okay? Do you have a cigarette?" Ella lazily rolled over and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a green and white pack and tossed it to Sylvia. Sylvia fumbled with the matches for a moment before Ella turned to her and cupped her hands around Sylvia’s.

  "There. Better?" Ella eyed her warily.

  "A little."

  "You'll be okay, you know. You really will."

  The sun was brutal today. It was too much. She could barely stand it. She could feel her shoulders scorching, and she hunched over, sheltering herself with her own body the best she could.

  "Do you want to swim?" Sylvia asked.

  Ella sat up and looked out over the water, trying to see something before replying. "The sand bar is still out there. Do you want to try and swim out to it?"

  "Can we make it that far out?"

  "We can try."

  The two girls stood, brushing sand away from their skin as they walked toward the water. They stood as tall as they could, aware of eyes on them. Children played recklessly in the surf with buckets and shovels. They were filling the buckets with water and racing back to their castles, wetting the sand to make it malleable. One little girl stood screaming and pointing at the water. Sylvia looked. What was it? A shark? A father came running and dashed into the water. He retrieved a red bucket, holding it up for the crying girl to see.

  The waves hit the girls hard at first. They both turned their backs to let the waves crash against them there instead of their faces. The water was still cold and briny like the salt water Sylvia’s mother would make her gargle with when she had a sore throat. Once they were beyond the breakers, they relaxed. Sylvia was strongly aware of the bottom. The sand that her feet touched had things in it—shells, seaweed, rocks. She imagined what else they could be with a shudder. They lifted up their feet and began to swim.

  Sylvia was a fairly strong swimmer, but she was by no means skilled. Ella swam better. They could see the sand bar clearly now, but it still seemed so far away.

  "Float on your back a bit. Use your arms." Ella turned over and showed her, rotating onto her back and pushing the water away from her body with her arms. They went remarkably swiftly in that manner. The green water hitting Sylvia's ears and face came and went. The sound of it was intense—a deep sloshing that sounded like a garbled conversation. Ella grabbed her arm and put her feet down. They had reached the sand bar.

  They dragged their bodies the rest of the way. It was only a small sliver of sand. There were seashells on the perimeter of it, just like a real shoreline. They collapsed in the sand, laughing. They were coated in sand in moments.

  "Look back at the beach. Look how small they all look." Ella pointed.

  "They do, like little dolls."

  "I wonder if they can see us." Ella stood up and waved her arms. No one waved back. "I guess not."

  "I feel better. Cooler. There is something about that water."

  "There is. My nails grow so fast here. I don't know why. It ruins my hair though." Ella ran a hand roughly through the tangle of her hair.

  "I think I am even blonder now."

  "Oh, you are. You had some color to it when I first met you. It's almost white now." Ella regarded her. "Even wet, it's so white." Sylvia knew they must be so small on this little strip of sand, so insignificant. A plane passed overhead. They waved at it.

  "Are we okay?" Even as they sat there, the sand around them had started disappearing as the ocean rose.

  "Yes, we're okay. It is going fast. Maybe we'd better head back. Are you rested enough?" Sylvia stretched out her arms and legs, feeling their strength and soreness.

  "I think so. I'm so thirsty."

  The swim back was harder. They were both tired and sunburned. The straps of their suits had made both of their shoulders start to ache hours before. Still, they swam well and hard.

  "Sylvia, be careful." Ella had paused, treading water. They were close now, but she pointed at something in the water. "You see that line? Where the waves aren't breaking?" Sylvia looked and looked again.

  "What line?"

  "Look, right up ahead." She saw it. There was a long flat expanse of water that led to the shore, and it didn't seem to be moving with the waves. "That's a rip tide. Be careful. We've got to go around it."

  Ella set out swimming as hard as she could parallel with the shore. Sylvia followed her carefully. She felt like she was clear of it when she felt a tugging on her feet, like a vacuum in the water.

  "Ella!" Sylvia swam harder. Ella turned.

  "Don't swim toward the shore, Sylvia! Don't! Keep swimming to me. Hard as you can!" Sylvia tried. The pull was insistent. She gasped.

  "I'm trying!" It was pulling at her thighs now, too. God, not now, not like this, she thought. Not here. I don't want to die here. A strange strength came over her. Ella was swimming back toward her, yelling. Sylvia felt calm. It came over her with the strength. She threw her body forward with all of her strength and kicked away the hands of the tide. Her arms propelled her forward in sweeps. It let go. She swam further and further away from it.

  Sylvia went home with Ella that evening, exhausted and sun soaked. The thought of returning to her aunt's house was too much for her. She couldn't face any of them.

  Ella's bedroom was decidedly girlish in a childish way. There was so much pink and lace. A lamp with a blushing shade cast a rosy glow, and despite the considerable dimensions of the room, it took on an intimate appearance. Ella found Sylvia a cool nightgown, and the two of them s
at on the bed for a long time together, smoking and talking.

  "Do you think your father was really having an affair?" Leaning back on her elbow, Ella appeared tranquil and even sincere. Her red hair fell in curls, a lovely and artless style from the beach.

  "I don't know. My mother thought he was, obviously. If you had asked me six months ago, I would have said no. Now, I can't say that for certain. In fact, maybe now I'm sure he did." She began to remember her father, not as he was, but as she could see him now.

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "I don't know. Maybe he was bored. He did look bored a lot." Sylvia mulled the words over in her mind. Was it boredom that led people to do reckless things? "No, I don't think that's it, actually. I think he was afraid, like he was trying to outrun something. Once, I saw him in the dining room, and he was breathing too hard, and I asked him what was wrong. He told me that he was running out of time."

  "Running out of time?" The slight crease between Ella's fair brows deepened.

  "Yes, running out of time." Leaning over her, Sylvia stubbed out her cigarette in one of the porcelain boxes Ella kept on her bedside table.

  "Like he was getting old?"

  "I think so." The two of them looked at each other frankly in the tender light cast by the muted lamp.

  "I don't think I ever want to get married." Ella pronounced this with a glimmer of defiance in her eyes.

  "Why not?"

  "It never works out." The observation sounded final with little room for objection.

  "Maybe it doesn't." Sylvia looked down at her hands. There was a long scratch across the top of her left hand. She had not felt it. "Have you ever been in love?" Ella paused for a long time before replying. Her eyes remained cast down.

  "I really liked the boy I lost my virginity to. I mean, I don't like to talk about it, but I thought we'd get married and that kind of thing. It didn't work out like that. I don't think it really ever does." Bringing her eyes upward, Ella regarded the ceiling above her, like she was trying to prevent tears from spilling over. "I was a kid, you know?"