Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

by A. R. Breck

  "Trust me, I'm definitely going to need a fucking therapist after this shit." Clyde runs his hands through his hair.

  "Because, Rome, you deal with shit differently. We haven't been what you've been through. Whatever it is that you and Luna have, it's fucked you up. You've got a drug problem, but more than that, you're fucking broken, dude. You've been broken since we left Shallow Lake at eighteen years old."

  I bite my lip, hating their accusing looks, but knowing they’re right. They know me more than anyone. They're the ones who've been around me the past three years. Hell, they've been around me since I was young. They know me.

  But more than anything, they know Luna and me. They know how we are. What she means to me. What being without her has done to me.

  They know how broken I am.

  I nod, and they collectively sigh in relief.

  "Well, it was a good run, boys," Lonnie says, looking at us sadly.

  This is it. This is really it.

  "Thanks, guys. For everything." I blink, suddenly overcome with emotion.

  Life is funny. It changes in just a blink of an eye. I could have not crashed my guitar on the ground, and we would still be out there playing. But one second, just one moment, and everything changed.

  My entire life changed.

  Everything changed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LUNA

  1998

  I walk along the beach, the sand so much different from home. My skirt blows in the ocean breeze, my bikini top full of sand. I look into the distance, seeing wave upon wave. Nothing but blue into the distance.

  Nothing but time.

  I hear my name and turn around, seeing my friends wave to me from our picnic bench.

  San Diego.

  It’s where we’ve been for a year now.

  Leaving Arizona was inevitable, mostly after that fateful night. It was traumatizing on all of us, mostly after walking back to the Winnebago with one less person. It was hard when we finally made it back, drinking water and watching our color return, knowing we left someone, empty, broken, dead, way up in the mountains.

  My eyes water, and I wipe the tear from my lashes, flicking it off onto the sand.

  It didn’t take long for us to leave; a few days of mourning and we couldn’t stand to be there another second. Between Shauna’s death and the shooting the night before, we were all itching for something new.

  Our goal was to finally go to Maui, but once we landed in San Diego, this place just… stuck. There are so many people here. It’s not like Arizona, where you can go days without seeing someone. The beaches of San Diego are packed, people who are just like us. We sleep on the beach, we sleep under the stars, we sleep wherever we’re meant to.

  And no one cares. Everyone is happy here.

  Neil loves it. He was in a dark bubble when we left, we all were. But Neil had this guiltiness in his eyes, a darkness I didn’t want to inspect. Once we got here, and we met all the people on the beaches, the darkness left his eyes, and he’s been the usual, free-spirited guy he was when I met him.

  San Diego is different than Arizona in many ways. I’m grateful for it, actually. The air isn’t as hot and dry, stifling with every breath you take. The ocean breeze cools your skin, even on the hottest of days. I watch the water, feeling a closeness to it. The water, it reminds me of my dreams.

  But it also reminds me of home.

  It reminds me of the lake, the smell of the water, the feel of the sand. It makes me feel like I’m home, even if that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I called my parents when I got out here. They were glad to hear from me, maybe a little sad. It's been years since I've seen them, but I still can’t find it in me to go home. What would I be going home to? What awaits me at the end of the road? I feel like by walking back there, I’d be going right back to senior year. Right back to a broken heart and a half missing soul.

  I still miss Roman. I still love him.

  I wonder if I'll ever stop loving him, or if there will always be a part of me that is broken, dead, and cold on the inside.

  It's a chill that never subsides.

  Life is different. Every place I’ve traveled to has been completely unique from the next. Arizona is dry, red, hot, dehydrated.

  California is green, a combination of pollution and salt lingering in the air. There’s always noise. Always traffic, people, waves. I could sit in silence for hours in Arizona, me and my thoughts drowning in memories of my past.

  Now I don’t have a moment to sit and think. Not during the day, at least. My thoughts are tucked away until nighttime, when they scream loudly, crashing with the waves as the tide rises. The water fills the beach just the same as thoughts of Roman flood my mind at night.

  I haven’t seen him in over three years.

  It feels like a lifetime since I’ve touched him. Since I’ve felt his smooth, tanned skin. Since I’ve seen his brown eyes that match his brown hair. Sometimes my heart skips, small fragments of him fading. Did he have a freckle there? Were his eyes a light, or a dark brown? Time and memories fade, swirling out with the waves of the ocean. I want to grasp them, cling to them. Hold on to them for the rest of my life.

  What does he smell like? Is his scent still like the beach? A little woodsy? Has his boyish scent turned into a manly scent? Does he have stubble covering his smooth face?

  My mind goes to everything I’m missing, every moment that I’ve lost. So many minutes that I can't get back with my family, with Roman. What does Shallow Lake look like? Is the water still as blue as the sky? Is the grass still green, or has it dried and turned yellow? Is the beach still as big as it once was, or has the water risen and washed it away?

  I shake my head, maybe I’ll never know. Maybe I’ll get lost into the world, fading away just like my memories.

  I don't want to go home and hear that Roman met someone. Even just going back there, where he's touched every surface, walked on every part of that small town, eaten at every single diner. I can't go back there and stare at our memories in the face. I can't do it.

  My heart won’t survive.

  So, I stay here, where nothing matters. Where my heart neither weeps nor rejoices. Where my soul isn't awake nor asleep. I just am. I float by.

  I realized after some time, that maybe I’ll never really find myself.

  Though, maybe I’m not lost, but I know I’m not found either.

  I'm stuck in this odd in-between, and I'm hoping someday I'll find it. Whatever it is I’m looking for. When I do, I'll go home. But until then, I'll stay here with my small crew, enjoying life, enjoying the sun, enjoying the warmth.

  I breathe deeply through my nose to stop the tears as I walk to the bench where everyone is waiting for me. I find myself wandering along the shore a lot, looking for small shells that I can use to make my dreamcatchers. Selling them is just as popular, if not more, in California. People buy them, young and old, girl or boy.

  "Luna!" Willie calls my name, waving me over. He has a brightness in his gaze, a familiarity in his smile. He likes me, a lot more than I like him. He wants what I can’t give him. I wish I could, any girl would like to. He’s handsome. His long blond hair brushes his shoulders, always a little sandy. Over the years, they've turned into dreadlocks, and in his spare time I always watch as he twists them. Over and over again.

  Twist, twist, twist.

  Willie shakes out his head as he walks up to me, tossing his arm over my shoulder and planting a kiss on my cheek. His lips are dry and warm as they press against my skin.

  I've been wandering around most of the afternoon, enjoying watching the various tourists explore the beachy pacific. You can always tell the repeat visitors versus the newcomers. The people who have come here before barely spare the ocean a glance, but those who have never been here? Those people look at the ocean with wide eyes, an awe in their gaze that doesn't suppress after minutes, after-hours. They could stare out into the horizon for hours without blinking.


  I don't blame them.

  I curl my toes in the sand, the warmth should be scorching against my toes. After a lifetime of walking barefoot, my feet don't feel much of anything. The bruises, the cuts and scrapes, the broken toenails, they aren’t affected by the ground anymore. It doesn't matter if it’s soft or hard, cold or hot, my toes curl around the earth like they're meant to be there.

  "I was enjoying the nice day." I look up, seeing the blue sky. It's a cloudless day, not even one in the sky. With a light breeze, the palm trees sway up near the beachside homes.

  "Was starting to get worried about you." He pinches my side, and I wiggle out of his hold. Trish and Neil are talking to a guy I haven't seen before. He isn't part of our normal crew. His long dark hair is pulled into a bun, and he's shirtless, his jean shorts cut off mid-thigh. Frayed and worn. A woman stands next to him, her clothes threadbare, the colorful fabric faded over time to an almost pastel tone.

  "That's Crow and Danae. They're Deadheads."

  My eyes go wide, never having heard that term before. "Deadheads?"

  He lifts an eyebrow. "You don't know about them?"

  I shake my head.

  "Hippies. Like, not the fake shit. The real, real hippies. The free people."

  I look around, seeing everyone who we've been around for months. We're all hippies, in a way. Free people. We don't follow the rules like the people who have regular day jobs. We follow our own rules, and if someone doesn't like it, well, we usually just continue what we're doing.

  "Aren't we all hippies?" I ask, my face scrunching up in confusion.

  He laughs, "Not even close," he leans down, pressing his lips against my neck. I step out of his hold, feeling like every day he's getting clingier and clingier. Sometimes my body crawls when he touches me. My skin twitches when his fingers hover. I find myself more and more wanting to step out of his hold instead of into it. I need more breaths of fresh away, away from people, more alone time.

  I've never felt an inkling of what I did when I was with Roman. After being with someone for so long, my feelings should be growing fonder instead of less. But I feel myself separating, my body disconnecting from it all.

  I know that my feelings should've developed into something deeper, but there's an invisible wall around my heart. Only one person has ever been able to slither past that barrier. Knock it down until it's a rubble of dust at my feet.

  That same person built that wall back up and solidified the bricks with the firmest cement. I don't think anyone will be able to get past that wall again.

  Most of all, Willie.

  What we have is so miniscule compared to what I had with Roman. Our love was unstoppable, but it was also tragic. Tragedy was our downfall in the end.

  "What's the matter?" Willie asks, his tanned face lowering in concern. "You've been distant lately. Did I do something wrong?"

  I shake my head, feeling like I've been keeping him on a string when there wasn't even a string to be kept on. I never should've let it get this far, yet here I am, wanting comfort and love all the while knowing he could never be the one to give it to me.

  "It's nothing." I look at Crow and Danae, wondering why Neil and Trish look so excited. "What's going on over there?"

  He looks over his shoulder, a crease between his eyes. "They're talking about going up to Santa Cruz." His eyes come back to mine, heavy, lost, a little angry. "Don't change the subject. Something's different with you. Something's wrong. What is it?"

  My nostrils flare as my eyes connect with his. There's a volatility in his gaze that puts me off. None of us have ever even gotten angry with each other. Maybe a slight disagreement, but we aren't people to fight. We don't like conflict. I never have. The brashness in his tone makes me uncomfortable. "Why are you acting like this?" I take a step back from him, and that only makes his eyes darken further. His hand reaches out, his long fingers gripping my wrist tightly. Firmly.

  "I'm just wondering what it is I've done to make you turn frosty. You've never been a particularly warm person, Luna, but it's like you can't even stand to be by me anymore."

  I hold the breath in my lungs, my chest expanding and the walls screaming for relief. I know I need to tell him the truth—that I could never love him. That whatever we have is going nowhere. That our intimacy is meaningless to me because every moment with him is a moment that I wish I was with someone else.

  "Willie, I think we need to cool off. Just remain friends for a bit. I… I've been hurt in the past, you know?"

  He shakes his head, this being the angriest I've ever seen him. "No. I don't know, because you don't tell us anything! You don't tell me anything. The most I know about you is that you grew up in Wisconsin and wake up most nights drenched in sweat. Why? What is it that you dream about every night? What happened to you, Luna, and why won't you let me in?"

  My body quakes, an unbearable scream barreling in the pit of my chest. It rages, banging against each rib and causing me immense pain.

  "Because I will never love you," I say honestly, brokenly. Maybe I would give him my heart if that was a possibility. But maybe I wouldn't. He was a filler. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Anger flashes in his eyes, a wave of rage more turbulent than the ocean behind me. "And why not? Am I not good enough for you?" he asks, taking a step toward me. I step back out of instinct, the alarm bells ringing in my head.

  I shake my head. "I can't love you because my heart belongs to someone else. Not a surface love, but an all-consuming love that changes a person inside and out. I found my soulmate, and I have to stop pretending with myself that what I can give you is anything like I gave him, because it's a lie. I'll never be able to give you my love, because it's not mine to give any longer."

  His jaw clenches, the sun reflecting off his tense bone crushing against bone. He's handsome, but my heart doesn't even leap for him.

  "If you found yourself in this all-consuming love, then where is he? It's been me you've been sleeping with for three years, not him. Where is he then, huh? I don't see him anywhere." He extends his arms, kicking the sand as he spins in a circle.

  "We broke up," I whisper on a broken breath. The words even slipping against my tongue are painful. Saying them aloud is gut-wrenching.

  "You broke up," he huffs. "You're in love with a man you aren't even with and haven't seen in years." He shakes his head, anger and pity in his eyes. "I'm heading to Santa Cruz with them. Come with or don't, I don't even fucking care anymore." He stomps over, sand kicking over my feet in the process.

  I watch everyone, feeling like this is a turning point in my life. I'm at a crossroads, and I can either leave this group I've been with for three years, or I can turn around and go back to the life I left behind. Who knows what is waiting for me, what I might walk into. That thought alone makes me pause, fear clutching my throat in a strong grip.

  "Luna, come on! We're leaving!" Trish waves me over, a bright smile on her face. She's excited to move on, our time here coming to an end. Maybe that's what took me so long today. I knew I'd be leaving here soon, and I needed one last glance at the beach, at the water in southern California.

  I don't know why, but for some reason, this feels like the last time I'll ever be here.

  "You coming?" she asks again.

  I bite my lips, my heart racing. I don't have enough time to think of what I want to do. I want to sit down, weigh the pros and cons, but I don't have the time.

  It's now or never.

  "Coming," I say, mostly to myself. I lift my skirt, the edges damp from the water, and walk off to my friends and the Deadheads. With every step I take, I question whether I’m making the right decision or not.

  Only time will tell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LUNA

  The ride to Santa Cruz is long and cramped. Hours upon hours of watching the coast fly by as we head north. Marijuana fills the car, and it reminds me of home so much that I close my eyes, leaning my head against the cracked fabric seat that smells like sm
oke, and listening as they play The Grateful Dead on repeat.

  Crow and Danae are married and are somewhere in their mid-thirties. They've been traveling the coast for ten years, and before that bounced around from state to state, always ending back in California. They attend a lot of festivals and rainbow gatherings. I wasn't sure what that was, but I'm glad it was Trish who asked.

  "What's a rainbow gathering?" she asks, her face screwed up in confusion.

  Danae turns around, laughter in her dark eyes. Both Danae and Crow have dreadlocks, although I think they are more from lack of a comb or brush than anything else. Danae has her messy brown hair in a bun at the back of her head, a scrap of fabric holding it up.

  "A rainbow gathering is like a peace circle. A lot of people come from all over the country to celebrate with us."

  "Celebrate what?" I ask.

  "Life," she shrugs, like it's the simplest answer in the world. "We pray for peace in the world."

  “Just a ton of people that are looking for the same things in life,” Crow mumbles.

  "It kind of sounds like a cult. Is it a cult?” Neil asks, and silence in the car ensues.

  "We aren't a cult." Is all Danae responds with.

  The rest of the drive is silent besides the music. We drive up the coast, and I watch the landscape turn from flat to mountainous. It's beautiful, and I stick my face against the window like a child.

  We eventually turn off the highway, heading toward the trees and into the mountains. The road turns bumpy, and Crow's van knocks from side to side with every rock and hole in the earth. I bump shoulders with Willie, who hasn't spoken with me since the beach. He's spoken with everyone else, laughing and joking. The minute I interject something into the conversation, his face drops, and he acts like I don't even exist.

  We come to a point on the road where cars are lined up on the side. The ground dips off the side of the dirt road, and the way the cars are parked make it look like they're tipped sideways. Crow continues driving past them, past car after car after car. He drives to the front, parking near a clearing. My eyes widen at the sight in front of me.