Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

by A. R. Breck

  The party will be starting soon.

  I head back to the house and see the other workers loading into the back of a truck. They wave to me, and I put up a finger, telling them to give me a minute. I rush into my room, changing out of my shorts and shirt for a creamy dress. I run a brush through my hair, the humidity today making it a little wavier than it usually is.

  I walk into the bathroom, looking at my pink-tinged cheeks. After all these years in the sun, my skin still hasn't turned as bronzed as everyone else’s. I still have my palish hue. Although, it now looks like I have a permanent tint of blush on my cheeks and nose. A dusting of freckles has also popped up along my skin, dotting along my nose and the apples of my cheeks like tiny sprinkles.

  I brush my hands over my face, running my fingers through my hair before heading out. These people don't wait around for long. If I take much longer, I'll be walking to the other side of the island.

  When I step outside, they turn on the truck, and one of the older gentlemen holds his hand out. I grab it, his palms rough from work. He helps me onto the bed of the truck. There is sand, grass, and seed all along the floor. The grainy seeds stick to the bottom of my bare feet, and I run my palm along the bottoms, brushing them off.

  The ride is bumpy, and some of the long-timers chat with each other on the ride over. I don't, because shouting across the blowing wind doesn't sound appealing. Instead, I watch the landscape, the hills, the mountains, the forest. I watch all of it. The ocean expands forever, somehow much bluer than the California waters. Where those waters were a dark blue, almost black in some places in California, the water in Hawaii is a bright blue, almost green. Like the rare, teal gemstones that I would find in Arizona.

  I pull my hair over my shoulder as the wind whips my dark strands around my head. I grab a handful, securing it against my neck as we drive, and soon enough, we're pulling off the highway.

  People with leis walk around. Groups with drums and other instruments, men and women dancing in the streets; it's a festival for as far as I can see. There are booths set up with games and food and little things to buy, and as the truck rolls down the street and swerves around this person and the next, the scents of authentic island foods swirl through the air and into my nose. The most colorful outfits are on display; men, women, children, everyone is out to enjoy the celebration.

  The truck parks, and we all hop off the bed. Some of them stick together as they go to explore, while others head off in their own directions. I wander around, going by myself and checking out each booth.

  I spend hours wandering around aimlessly. I take my time at the booths, picking up the different dishes that are homemade and deliciously hot. By the time the sun has set, lanterns are set on the streets and people are dancing as others walk around and play the drums. I'm incredibly full and all I can do is sit down next to a colorful building and watch the locals have the time of their lives.

  This. This is bliss.

  A smile breaks out on my face when I see a young girl and boy dance in the middle of the street, their swimsuits on as they run around and chase each other. It reminds me of Roman and I when we were little. Chasing each other. Soulmates before we knew what soulmates were. Best friends. I loved him then, even when I didn't want to. When I thought boys were gross and didn't want anything to do with them, Roman was always there. We both knew we were meant to be.

  We were.

  Are we still?

  Life is cruel, and as I watch these kids, with a brightness lit in their eyes as they stare at each other, I just hope they don't end up with the same fate Roman and I went through.

  "Luna?"

  The voice shocks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around, coming face to face with the last person I wanted, or expected, to see.

  There stands Willie, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He looks like he just stepped off the plane and walked straight to this party.

  I stand up, straightening the skirt of my dress. I'm glad it drapes all the way to my toes, so he won't be able to see how badly my legs are trembling.

  "Willie? What are you doing here?"

  He shakes his head, his blond locks full dreads now. His eyes are a little lazy, a little unfocused, even as they burn down on mine. "I should be asking you the same thing. I thought you went home."

  I bite my lip, hearing the accusation in his tone. He wanted me. He didn't want me to leave, and I left anyway. "I was going to, but plans changed."

  He eyes narrow slightly, like he doesn’t believe me.

  "What about you?" I ask after a beat of awkward silence. "I have to say, it's kind of a coincidence," I laugh, nervousness filling my stomach.

  He shrugs. "Doing what we've always talked about. Coming to Hawaii." He takes a step toward me. "Why did you leave me like that in the hospital? Why didn't you wait for me?"

  I take a step back, the heel of my foot hitting a small crate. I look down, pushing it out of my way as I shuffle back. "I was going home. After everything that happened, I wanted to go home. I… I wasn't in a good spot. After what was happening to Neil—wait, what ever happened to Neil?"

  His eyes darken, nearly turning black as he stares at me. "Neil is dead."

  My eyes widen, my stomach dropping to my feet and my body breaking out in a chill. "What? How?"

  "He killed himself in the hospital. He couldn't come out of his trip."

  I shake my head, so fucking broken that another one of our friends is dead. "What about Trish?"

  He shrugs. "She went home right after that. Didn't want to stick around."

  "What about you? Where did you go?"

  "I decided to stick around in Santa Cruz for a while."

  My eyes narrow, already knowing where this is going. My blood cools, and I feel a betrayal at his decisions. How could he do that to Neil? "You went back to Crow?"

  He nods, his face blank of all emotions.

  "You went back to him? After what he did to your friend? What he meant to do to me?" My voice is raised, drawing the attention of some of the locals. I turn my back to them, lowering my voice to a quiet whisper, "How could you do that to Neil?"

  He leans forward, his face only inches away from mine. His breath floats into my face, smelling of smoke and a grossness that makes me want to gag. "Because everyone left me, and I had no one to turn to. My girl left me, and my best friend died. What else could I have done? I had no one, I had nothing. I was eight hours away from San Diego. There was nothing for me to do!"

  I take a step back, afraid of the heat, the anger that's boiling beneath his surface.

  "So, how'd you get here?" I ask after a beat.

  "I earned some money over the last year." He reaches into his pocket, grabbing the small dark dropper that's part of my worst dreams. Tilting his head back in the middle of the street, he drops two liquid drops on his tongue. Tilting his head up, he smiles at me. "Want some?"

  I blink at him, shocked at his audacity. Horrified that he'd do that after his greatest friend committed suicide for being on the same drug. "You have no shame, do you?" A gust of wind hits, causing my hair to blow in front of my eyes. We stare at each other, and it takes me a minute before I can catch my bearings. My hand reaches forward, pulling the hair from my face and I turn around, ready to walk away from him for good.

  That snaps him into action.

  He grabs onto my bicep, pulling me back around. "Where are you going?"

  "I'm heading back to my house. Not really in the mood to party anymore." I attempt to pull out of his hold, but that only makes his grip tighter. "Let go of me."

  "Wait. Stop. What did I do? What's wrong?" A mixture of sadness and anger hits his eyes.

  I shake my head. "It's nothing. I just want to be alone." I pull my arm back, but his hand comes with it.

  "Where did I go wrong? Where did we go wrong? Didn't you have good times with me?"

  I smile. It's sad, a little broken. "We had good times, Willie. But that's all it was. It was fun while it lasted."

&
nbsp; "Why can't we try again? I can do better. I can be better for you now. We're finally at our destination. Where we always meant to land."

  I shake my head, not sure when his mind got so skewed and why he thinks there is a we in this equation at all. "Willie." I pull my hand out, firmer this time. And this time he lets me. "I told you back in California why we won't work. I mean that. Every word I said, it was the truth. You don't want me. I'll never be able to love you." I look around, smiling at the happiness and peace surrounding me. "But there are some awesome people here, and I'm sure you'll find some beautiful women to spend your time with." Willie is attractive. Like, top-of-the-line hot. He has all the dips and muscles that a man should have. It's unfortunate that my heart has been given to someone else. But that's how my soul works. I only see one man. It was useless to pretend otherwise.

  He takes a step back, another flash of that darkness slipping into his eyes. "Whatever you say, Luna." He walks off, not sparing me another glance.

  A chill breaks off on my spine, and I walk the other way, checking over my shoulder constantly to make sure he's not following me.

  It felt like he was a completely different person. He's not the man I first met. While being on the road changes people, it seems that it changed Willie for the worse. He used to be an easygoing guy, somewhat like Roman in that regard. I think that's what pulled me toward him, his happiness. His outgoing nature that everyone gravitated to.

  Now I feel like there's a darkness around him. A darkness that I want nothing to do with. We have been through a lot, and he sunk deep into the evil. He's not a good man. Not anymore.

  I don't see him the rest of the night, and I eventually catch up with the rest of the workers, hopping in the back of the truck. I let out a sigh of relief once the truck starts moving, and I watch the lights of the party fade off into the distance. I hope this is the last time that I see him, but a part of me knows it won't be. Maui isn't huge, and he isn't a local, which means we'll probably end up crossing paths again.

  It takes a while for us to get back, and I lean against the side of the truck, the salty air and the rocking making me tired. My eyes grow droopy, and I do my best to stay awake.

  I'm grateful when we arrive home, and I'm the first one off, waving to everyone as I head into my house. I slip inside, climbing straight into bed with my clothes still on. I pull the sheets up to my neck, burrowing my head into the pillow. Sleep comes quickly, and I'm pulled down into my dreams.

  I hear the waves before I see them. I'd know the sound anywhere. It's not the gentle lapping like in California, and it's not the loud crashing like in Hawaii. The waves that I hear are angry, aggressive as they pound against the side of the cliff. My eyes slide open, and here I am.

  It's been a while.

  It's been since California, I realize. I haven't dreamed about my cliff in over a year, and for an odd moment, I feel at home. This place where I've spent much of my nights through my childhood to adulthood. It's dark out now, and I don't think I've ever been here at night. I can't even see the water, only darkness as I look over the edge. I can hear them below, and can imagine them now, sliding up the edge of the rock, each wave competing to reach higher than the next. The waves turning white from their aggressive force.

  I can barely see anything because it’s so dark, but looking up, I see the stars. So many of them reflecting down on me, giving me the only light I'll get. That and the moon, which is only a small crescent tonight, a sliver in the sky, placed delicately between the stars.

  I take a step toward the edge of the cliff. Only a small one, but I can feel the soft sand beneath my feet. The soft sand that isn't sand at all. I've walked barefoot for years, and I know what sand from each part of the earth feels like. This isn't it. It's softer, almost powder-like as it disintegrates beneath my feet. I stop as the wind picks up, howling in the distance. It sounds like a whistle, and I take a step backward, feeling the sand pick up and swirl around my feet. It lifts higher, reaching my ankles, my waist, traveling across the skin on my arms and around my neck.

  I feel like I could lean back into the air and the sand would lift me off the ground. I feel like it would carry me away from here, anywhere, if I really wanted. A gust of wind pulls me forward, and I don't fight it. I'm not sure why, maybe because I know this is all a dream. I've been through this before. I've danced to this tune. I know that no matter what I do, I'll always end up going over the cliff.

  The wind pulls me toward the edge, with each inch the air turning colder and colder. It's freezing by the time my toes curl around the edge. My heart races. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I don't fight it. I let the sand wrap around me, creating a thin coating across my skin. It pulls me, bowing my body. My toes press into the rocks, just as I had years ago in ballet. My spine arches, my form bent so perfectly, but it's not enough.

  All it takes is one small gust, and it happens. I fall over the edge. I keep my toes pointed, and my eyes closed. And I let the world swallow me whole.

  I wake up, sweat dripping down my temples as a shiver racks my body. It feels so real. Every single time, it feels like I'm there. I can still feel the sand against my feet. I can still feel the chill of the air against my skin. Why didn't I try to get away this time? Why did I let the wind take me? It’s almost like I wanted it to.

  Not only that, but this time I was still in my dream when I fell. Usually, the moment I fall over the cliff, I wake up. Not this time. I could feel the wind blast my face as I descended toward the ocean below me.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The tapping on my door makes me freeze in place. My breathing stops, and I can barely blink as I listen.

  What was that?

  "Luna? You in there?" Dread pools into my stomach at the sound of Willie's voice. I hold my breath, hoping he thinks he has the wrong place and walks away. But I can feel him out there, his intoxicated heavy breaths. The sand underneath his shoes crunching and swishing along the ground outside as he steps from foot to foot.

  I get out of bed, tiptoeing to where the small bathroom is. If I can get out of here without him noticing me, I can run to the owner’s house and let them know he's been following me. They don't like crime and they don't appreciate shit happening on their island. He'll be on the next plane out.

  That's if I get out of here first.

  The wood creaks beneath my feet, and I wince, pulling my mouth into an O as I let out little bits of air. After a second, I move, rushing off to the bathroom. I slide open the window, the wood creaking against its hinge as it’s pushed up. The front door opens just as the window fully opens. I can hear him in the front of my cabin, his shoes creaking on the wood. A gust of wind slaps me in the face, and I take in a shaky breath, fear pounding in my ears.

  "Luna, what're you doing?" Willie's voice is slurred, hurried.

  I jump through the window, literally diving through headfirst. The edge of the window scrapes my hip, and I whimper when I feel it cut through my skin.

  "Come here!" I glance up, seeing Willie sticking his hand out the window to grab me. It waves back and forth, looking for a connection to my skin. When he can't reach me, his arm slinks back inside, and I can hear his feet as they pound across my house. That gets me moving. I put my hands on the grass, pushing myself up to run. I move as fast as I can, my bare feet pumping against the cold grass. I hear my door slam open, the knob knocking against a wall. As I look over my shoulder, I see Willie sprinting toward me.

  He's bigger. Faster. Stronger. A whimper leaves my throat as I run as fast as I possibly can toward the house.

  Willie cuts me off.

  My feet cut left, toward the beach. He’s stunted by my change, my quickness. He follows me, though, right on my heels. My feet punch the sand, instantly slowing me down with the density. I kick sand behind me, trying to get as much distance as I can. But it's useless.

  He's here.

  I feel my dress being pulled back, tight around my stomach. Then I'm halted, and I trip, falling
against the ground. Sand shoots in the air, slapping against my skin and into my face. Willie falls on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.

  "Why are you doing this?" I cry, my tears mixing in with the sand. The tide is higher, so close to my hands at this point. If I reached out another few inches, I'd touch the wet, cold sand.

  "Why do you have to run? Why are you always running from me, Luna, huh? What did I ever do to you? Why can't you just be with me?"

  "Please. Please." I try to get up, but it's useless. My face falls to the sand, the grains hitting my lips. I bite down, the crunchiness of the sand getting between my teeth. "Please let me go. Please, Willie, I beg you," I sob, feeling useless. Helpless.

  "How can I let you go, Luna? I love you," he croons against me, his body lowering over mine. The weight of his body pinning me against the ground makes it hard to breathe. I gasp in air, wishing someone would see me. Wishing someone could help me.

  "Please, Willie," I cry, "Please, oh my God. Help me. Someone, help me." My cries are whispers, my voice choked from his weight. His breath is heavy against the back of my neck, blowing my hair into the sand, across my face. It only makes it harder to breathe.

  "Why can't you love me? I just want you to love me. Don't you think it's fate? Me coming here and the first thing I see is you? There has to be a reason for it." His hand yanks on my dress, pulling it up around my calves. His hand falls to my skin, the heat of him making nausea build in my stomach. He trails his hand up, sliding it on the inside of my thigh. Between my legs.

  "I'm sorry. Please don't. Please, please, please, Willie. I won't tell anyone. Just let me go. Please. I don't want this."

  His fingers press against my heat, grasping my panty-covered sex, squeezing tight. "You don't want this? After all our years together? What was I? Just someone to pass the time? This has been mine for years." He squeezes again, and I swallow down a gag.