Deep Blue Secret (4 page)

“No worries. I just suggested when you’re out taking pictures this week, to remember how
Rose and Driftwood
made you feel and to find something that captures a similar feeling for you.”

“Okay,” I said, secretly hoping nothing out there would make me feel the way that photograph did. “Thanks, Mr. Brown. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I slid out the classroom door.

My feet dragged down the pathway, lost in my thoughts. If I could describe myself in terms of music, I would be
Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness
from my mom’s old Smashing Pumpkins album.

Outside, the blue sky and bright sun were not enough to lift my spirits. I couldn’t snap out of the slump. At least I didn’t have to worry about any more classes today. My brain felt useless. I wobbled through the maze of students to my car with my head hung low. I really hoped I wouldn’t run into any of my friends. I just wanted to be alone.

The steering wheel was hot on my fingers, the air stale from being closed off all day. It was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. I rolled down the windows and let my head fall back to the seat, taking in a few deep breaths.

My brain felt like it was churning in slow motion. Everything felt muddled. I barely noticed the blur of buildings and trees driving home. It was a good thing I didn’t live far. I went through an intersection and realized, after the fact, that I wasn’t sure what color the light had been—green I hoped.

I parked in our driveway with a small shred of relief. The black cloud of depression still hovered over my head as I walked up the drive, but at least I was home.

After fumbling through my keys at the door, I lost my hold and they dropped carelessly to the ground. Crouching down with a slow sigh, I picked them up to try again, my upper body like a lead weight as I pulled my torso upright.

I staggered through the door and took in the surroundings of our living room; the eggshell paint on the walls, the old oak TV hutch across from the worn leather couch, the framed picture of my grandparents displayed in the corner bookshelf, a pair of my mom’s shoes on the ground near the doorway.

Even though the weight had not lifted, I felt some degree of comfort from the familiar items. My lungs filled with the scent of home and I slunk back to my room, letting my bag slide through my fingers to the floor near the door.

Logically it was a bad idea, but I wanted to wallow in the pain.

I selected a CD from my music collection that contained a mix of instrumental pieces. It was mostly new age piano selections, some accompanied by orchestras, and a few songs from movie scores. This probably wasn’t the typical music choice by the average teenager. I doubted any kids from my school had even heard these songs before, but to me they were beautiful and full of passion; which normally I found uplifting, but not today.

I knew it was likely to increase the negative emotions, but I couldn’t restrain myself. I put the CD in the player and rolled on my bed like a boulder. My shoulders slumped against the mound of pillows in front of the sand-colored head board.

The forlorn notes of
Cristofori’s Dream
replaced the eerie silence, sending a chill up my neck.

The piano sang in desperation. Lamenting strings pierced the air as if grieving on my behalf. The notes edged through my mind and I stared across the room, right through the beige wall to the void beyond.

My eyes labored through nothingness, searching for the tiniest fragment of hope to no avail. There was no finding what left me incomplete. As my soul reached the depths of despair I broke down and tears trickled down my cheeks.

I didn’t understand why I felt this way, but I couldn’t find relief. I curled myself in a ball and hugged one of the pillows, stricken with abandonment. My faint sobs turned to weeping. I clung to the pillow more fervently, crying out as my soul writhed in pain.

Eternity crept slowly by while I languished away on my pillow, the damp fabric clinging to my cheek. The energy drained from my body, weary and fatigued from the emotional outpouring.

The CD must have come to completion; only silence filled the air. Everything felt numb all over. My gaze barely limped across the room with nowhere to go.

That was enough. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t just lie here and rot away in agony.  I couldn’t let myself. I needed to be surrounded with something pleasant enough to push out the pain. I needed to go to the ocean.

I could only hope it would work. If there was anything out there that would help clear my head it was my favorite place in the world…Crystal Cove.

I forced myself out to my car and started the engine.

Despite my melancholy, I decided to try some upbeat music, hoping for any extra lift I could get. I selected a play-list that was a collection of billboard hits, mostly songs airing on the radio over the last year. It didn’t have any mushy songs, only happy, energetic ones that could get your feet tapping.

Even though it was out of my way, I turned to meet up with Superior Avenue. It was my favorite street. As my car rolled around the bend I took in the beautiful seascape across my windshield. It was worth adding a few minutes to my drive to gaze at the ocean and feel the immensity. Rolling down the hill lined with palm trees felt almost like coming home.

Normally I cruised along Coast Highway with the windows cracked and the volume turned up, but I just couldn’t feel the sunshine. It was no use. The music didn’t help. I ripped the earphones from my head and tossed the player in the passenger seat. I would have to wait and hope the beach would be enough to make a difference.

I’d been to Crystal Cove so many times now, I couldn’t keep track. I’d spent many pleasant summer days there with my mom growing up, and lately I’d go when I wanted to be alone, without the distraction of friends. It wasn't a place high school kids normally hung out. They were usually found down by Huntington Pier or the River Jetties, where people go to watch the surfers. They're fun places when you're in a social mood, but today I needed to feel close to nature.

Being in such a daze, I didn’t remember to pull my parking pass from the glove box until I’d already pulled up to the parking booth. I had to fumble hastily to find the pass while the attendant watched and waited patiently. I shook my head and apologized repeatedly, finally grabbing the pass and hanging it from the rear view mirror so she could wave me into the half-empty lot.

In summer it would’ve been packed from corner to corner. I loved living so close I could enjoy it the rest of the year without the crowds. I strolled towards the path that led to the beach and glanced around the familiar parking lot. There was already a slight sense of calm surrounding the hills and large homes with Spanish tile roofs. I could tell I made the right choice to come here.

As I reached the mouth of the path, cars zoomed past on the highway to my right, separating me from the hidden coastline I couldn’t wait to reach. The further I moved down the trail, the quicker my pace became. I shuffled away from the noise and admired the trees and shrubs covered in wild blossoms. I was suddenly glad these flowers were nothing like the white rose in Mr. Brown’s photograph.

I kept a brisk pace until I reached the concrete tunnel leading under the road to the shore on the other side, then I slowed for a moment. It had been a while since I last took the time to admire the walls covered in colorful murals.

When I was a child I would stop at each image, enchanted by the artwork depicting flowers or marine life, and force my mom to read each message to me one by one:
Don't Pollute, Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder, Everyone Needs the Greens, Keep the Earth Clean for You and Me.

With sweet memories slowly lifting my spirits, I wandered down the lane past the shuttle stop and the little cottages converted into shops and snack stands. I was finally close enough to feel the moisture from the sea on my cheeks, to smell the fresh, salty air. The sun shown bright in the sky, but the breeze from earlier was intermittently turning to gusts of wind. I pulled an elastic band out of my pocket, putting my hair in a ponytail to keep it from swirling in my face.

On my left I spotted the steep, wooden staircase which led up to the Shake Shack. I toyed with the idea of making the trek up the stairs to indulge myself with a date shake. They weren't just fun to eat on a date; they were literally filled with dried fruit dates.

Most of my friends would stick to something more familiar, like chocolate, but I'd been eating them since I was a child, thanks to my mother. I thought the flavors might bring back memories and help lift my mood, but I finally decided against it. There were only a couple hours left before the sun would go down.

I flipped off my sandals at the edge of the shore, my steps becoming heavy from the sand's give under my feet and between my toes. The last time I came to this section of the beach it was crowded with tourists and inlanders. Despite the miles of shoreline, all the people had clumped together on one section of the sand. The crowded air echoed with screams of children fleeing the breaking waves in delight.

Not today. Today it felt quiet, almost deserted.

It would’ve been nice just to relax and be with my thoughts, but I remembered I was supposed to take some photos for my photography class. Since I was already here, I decided I might as well just get it done. Luckily, I’d been toting around the small camera I checked out from my teacher all semester, so it was already in my bag.

I snapped photographs while crossing the firmer sand near the water’s edge, capturing the view on the horizon and the shore where the black boulders broke the waves. I took close-ups of footprints and seaweed surrounded by tiny shells and rocks, the reflection of the sun glaring off ripples of water, and details of the few cottages along the back edge of the sandy beach.

I imagined having the ocean literally in my own backyard. Many of these houses were rented out to vacationers, but I would love to live so close to the water someday.

Observing the world through the lens of a camera was tiring. Instead of taking in the comforts of nature I was scrutinizing every detail of my surroundings in search of an artistic angle. I wanted a moment to relax. I had more than enough pictures to pick through later for my class assignment.

I stowed the camera in my bag and meandered down the beach to the rockier side of the shore near the tide pools. I took a beach towel out of my bag and swung it up to release the folds. As my arms extended, a rush of wind burst through the air, catching the towel and whipping it back in my face. My eye stung from the unexpected lashing.

My hand shot up to my face and I glanced around the beach, unsure if I should be embarrassed by anyone nearby.

There was an older couple holding hands, their backs to me as they walked opposite my direction, a mother with two small children building sand castles several yards away, and a few more people farther down near the entrance, but no one close enough to notice me.

Then again, I wasn't sure why I would think any stranger here on the beach would be noticing me in the first place.

Once I finally got my towel smoothed out I lay soaking in the afternoon sun. It would’ve been relaxing if it weren't for the wind puffing around me. The corner of the towel whipped my leg and I kicked it to the ground again. A few wisps of hair floated from my ponytail tickling my nose. I brushed them away trying to tuck them tighter under my head.

Finally I gave up, sitting upright with a huff and digging sand out of my ear, grumbling under my breath,
I don't remember wind being mentioned in the forecast
. Was this the time of year for the infamous Santa Ana winds to wreak havoc on our pleasant town? I couldn't remember.

Despite the growing wind, I wasn't ready to part with the ocean. I hadn’t felt the extra uplift that I needed yet.

I left my bag as an anchor for the towel and walked down to the water to find the tide pools. I'd explored them many times before, observing the funny crabs that scurried through the cracks and crevices. But I must have come during high tide today. Only a small portion of the craggy rock formations were visible.

I waded through the shallow parts, taking deep breaths of cool, salty air and came to a large boulder layered with sediment. The side facing the sand was surrounded by shallow water and angled down towards the ground, making it easy to climb.

I crawled to the top edge that hovered over the ocean and stood looking out at the horizon.

The rise and fall of the waves rolled towards me, the hum growing to a rumble before breaking below my feet. The sea stretched to the edge of the sky, overwhelming, and liberating, and soothing all at once.

I took the ocean for granted before. Growing up it was a fun place to play, that was it. It still was of course, but it wasn’t until I could drive and started coming here alone that I actually took the time to appreciate it.

The ocean was immense and uncontrollable, but it followed patterns and cycles that were consistent, you could always rely on it to be there. Hidden life thrived beneath its surface, yet it could swallow you up and drag you to your death if given the chance. It was nature’s great paradox.

I closed my eyes and listened to the crashing waves send spray up my ankles. Everything started to feel clearer. In this moment, it didn't matter that I was bursting into to tears of depression for no reason, or that I was losing my mind and chasing after green-eyed boys that may or may not actually exist outside my dreams.

Right now it was just me and the water. I wished I could live on this rock forever.

I’d never questioned my life before. I had countless friends, wonderful memories, a bright future ahead of me, but something didn’t feel right anymore.

Suddenly wind barreled across my rock.

I gasped, eyes popping open. Another burst of howling air exploded, ripping me off balance. I didn't have time to think, only to react. My legs flew out from under me, arms reaching out, but my ocean view became nothing but sky. Gravity yanked me in the water, pain piercing my skull. I barely registered the blow before darkness hit.