Every Breaking Wave

Every

Breaking

Wave

Megan Nugen Isbell

©2015

For Tarin

Remember…

The heart only grows stronger

once it’s been broken.

One

“Mom!  I dropped my binky!  I need my binky!”

Yes, I was that mom: the mom who still allowed her nearly four-year-old son to suck on a pacifier.  I’d sworn we were done with the dreaded binky at the age of two.  I’d made that same proclamation for three, but obviously that deadline had come and gone.  When I was pregnant and knew everything about parenting because I read every book about raising the perfect baby, I’d sworn my child would never use a pacifier because I wouldn’t have any use for such a needless tool.  I’d know how to soothe my baby without the help of some prop because I was perfect and my life was perfect, therefore, by default, my child would be perfect too.  These thoughts were before my child was born though and I soon discovered that parenthood is really about one thing: survival, which is all I was trying to do as I kept one hand on the steering wheel of my aging Camry as we drove up the highway, my other hand flailing around the backseat while doing my best not to drive off the road.  I was being reckless and careless, but really, I was just trying to survive.

“I can’t reach it,” I told my son.

“I need it, Mommy!”

“We’re almost there, Noah.  You’ll be fine,” I said, even though I should’ve known there was no reasoning with a three-year-old. 

“I need it!  Please!”

He was crying full force now and I knew I should just ignore him.  I should just tune him out or turn up the music, but I didn’t.  Instead, I pulled the car off to the side of the road and turned around to see the pacifier sitting on the floor.  Noah was reaching for it desperately, almost like his life depended on it.  He hadn’t always been so emotional.  He’d actually been broken of his binky for a while.  He’d been nearly potty trained as well, but that was before Darren moved out.  It’d been nearly a year and Noah had turned into a different kid, which is why I found myself on the side of the road, fishing a binky off the floor, offering my son one thing that offered him security.

I got out of the car, walking over to Noah’s side.  He was still whimpering when I opened the door, but when I picked up the binky, wiped it on my shirt and handed it back to him, the relief on his face was immediate.  He popped it in his mouth and was instantly quiet.  I smiled at him, wiping the tears with my thumb.

“Better?” I asked and he nodded, the smile returning to his face. 

I kissed him on the cheek and then returned to the driver’s seat, easing back onto the highway a moment later.  I glanced in the rearview mirror.  Noah was content, busy playing a puzzle game on his tablet and I focused my attention back on the road. 

Travers Cove was only a few miles away and I was anxious to get there.  It’d been a long drive from Providence and I knew Noah was itching to get out of his car seat, just as I was itching to get back to the one place that held nothing but good memories for me.  I didn’t know if running away from reality would actually help anything, but it was worth a try because at this point, I was barely holding on and I had to find a way to fix myself before I couldn’t. 

It’d probably been ten years since I’d been to the family beach house.  My grandparents had lived there year round until my grandfather died and my grandmother moved into an assisted living facility.  She’d only lasted a year without him and when she passed away, my dad and his siblings couldn’t bring themselves to sell the old house.  It held too many memories for everyone.  We’d gone there every summer for two weeks as kids.  The last time had been the summer before I headed off to college.  I knew I was probably being sentimental, but the memories of that summer and all the other summers were perfect.  I could still remember running down the beach with my cousins and climbing the rocks to stare out at the ocean.  It never got boring.  It never got old and I hoped the old house could work its magic on me because my life was in need of a positive recharge.

I don’t know why I hadn’t been back to the house since I was eighteen.  I guess life got in the way.  That’s what I’d told myself anyway.  After high school, life seemed to go in fast forward.  I met Darren, graduated, married Darren, got my first job teaching second grade, and then Noah came along.  The old beach house didn’t fit into our busy schedule, but as I made the turn and saw the Atlantic Ocean sprawled out in front of me, I knew it was exactly what I needed now.

The day was overcast and foggy, but I didn’t let the dreariness deter me.  The sun would come out and Noah and I would spend our summer in the happiest place I could remember.  I hoped that happiness would wear off on him and he’d return to the happy little boy he’d been a year ago before I’d let him down and his whole life changed. 

Different family members used the house on occasion, but for the most part, it sat vacant.  My dad and his siblings had hired someone to tend to the house, keeping it up and taking care of the small yard, so when I pulled into the driveway, it was ready for Noah and I. 

“We’re here,” I said, turning off the car and looking back at my son.  He was staring at the house curiously.  He’d never been to the house.  I’d tried explaining it to him the best I could, but I didn’t think he understood.  I hoped he wouldn’t have too many apprehensions. 

“I wanna go home, Mommy.”

“This is home until August, Noah.” I made my voice extra enthusiastic, but I don’t think it mattered because he gave me a scowl as I unbuckled my seatbelt and made my way to him.  I undid his car seat, but he just sat there, staring at the house. “C’mon, buddy.  Let’s go in.”

“Can we go home?” he asked.

“Our house is getting fixed right now,” I said.  Now I was the lying mother: the one who made up stories to trick their children.  Again, survival.

“Please?  Can we go home?” I watched as his lip began to tremble and then a big tear spilled down his cheek.

“I’ve got cookies, Noah.  I’ll give you one when we get inside.”

Bribery was another tool in my arsenal and I had no shame.  I used it all the time.  I knew I shouldn’t, but sometimes I didn’t know what else to do.

At the mention of a cookie, he seemed to perk up.

“Okay,” he said and started weaseling out of his seat. 

I took his hand and then grabbed my purse, which was more like a duffle bag.  I’d come to learn since having Noah, cute little purses were no longer practical.  After we were finished with diaper bags loaded down with bottles and burp rags and diapers and wipes, I’d graduated to a purse that was capable of holding at least one pull-up, a packet of wipes with enough space to cram fruit snacks and Goldfish, a juice box on occasion and my phone and a packet of gum that always managed to get jammed at the bottom.  The one I currently had draped over my shoulder was Calvin Klein and I’d been very proud of myself when I picked it up on sale from
Kohl’s.  I told myself because it was Calvin Klein, I was hip, but then I realized Calvin Klein probably wasn’t in anymore, not the way it’d been back in the 90s when I was a kid and Kate Moss’s emaciated body was the standard for women’s fashion.  I knew I should just give up.  I wasn’t cool anymore.  I was a twenty-eight-year-old divorced mom.  Cool was something from my past.  The word cool probably wasn’t even cool anymore.

“Here we go,” I said, smiling widely at Noah as I took out my keys and started fumbling with the door. 

The key slid right in and when I pushed it door, I felt a sense of peace as I led my son through the threshold.  I stopped in the living room, taking in a deep breath.  It still smelled the same and memories of my childhood summers came rushing back to me.  I could almost hear my family’s laughter as we sat in the living room watching movies or playing games, back when life was still simple, before my expectations were crushed. 

“It’s dark in here,” Noah’s little voice chimed in and I had to agree with him.  The cloudy sky did nothing to illuminate the room.  The heavy curtains were drawn and I walked over, pulling them open, revealing a view of the road and straight ahead of that was the ocean. 

“Better?” I asked and he nodded, running over to me, jumping on the couch and staring out.

“Can we go swimmin’?” he asked and I noticed how he was holding his binky instead of sucking on it.  I took that as a good sign. 

“We can go swimming every day, buddy.”

“Now?”

“Not now.  We have to get our stuff inside and then we have to go to the market and get some food.  If you’re really good in the store for me, we can get some ice cream.”

There I went with the bribery again.  I was definitely going to be a candidate for mother of the year.

“Ice cream?” Noah looked up at me with his big brown eyes and a wide smile.

“Yep. You can pick your favorite flavor at the store,” I nodded. “Now, come help me get our stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed and took my hand.

~~~

Travers Cove was a small town and not overly populated during the summer as was the case with so many of the little towns on Maine’s coast.  Perhaps Travers Cove was safe because it was further north.  No matter the reason, I was grateful for the tranquility it would offer us this summer as I tried to escape reality and show my son that everything would be all right. 

We’d unpacked our suitcases and I’d thrown the linens in the wash so they would be ready for our first night before heading to the store. 

Travers Cove didn’t have the big chain grocery stores.  There was only one place to get groceries: Travers Market.  The store had been there when I was growing up and I wondered if it was still run by the same family.  When I was kid, either Mr. or Mrs. Parrish had been behind the counter of the small market.  They’d seemed old back then, so I had my doubts they would still be there now.

Noah held onto my hand as we walked inside and I paused for a moment to look around.  It’d hardly changed in the ten years I’d been away and I was startled when my eyes moved to the checkout stand.  Sure enough, there sat Mrs. Parrish ringing up a customer.  She looked the same, aside from more wrinkles.  She still had the same gray hair, tied back in the same bun and as she handed the change to the customer, she had the same smile.  This is why I’d decided a couple of months in Travers Cove would do me some good: familiarity.

“C’mon, Noah,” I said, hoisting him up and attempting to put him in the cart.  He started struggling though and the whining soon followed.

“I wanna walk!”

“Noah, please.  Stay in the carriage.”

“I said I wanna walk!”

He wasn’t screaming, but he was determined and I reached into my pocketbook for my secret weapon: Dum Dums.

“I’ve got a lollipop for you if you stay in the carriage,” I said, holding it out to him, watching as his eyes got wider. 

“Okay,” he said, taking the candy as his muscles relaxed and I was able to get him safely into the cart. 

Grocery shopping was not my favorite past time and doing it with a toddler was even more dreadful.  Noah used to rarely go shopping with me.  When I was married and it was time to do the shopping, one of us would usually stay home with Noah while the other went to the store.  It was just easier that way.  That was no longer an option and I’d resorted to any means necessary to get in and out of the store without any scenes, hence the Dum Dums. 

Noah was generally pretty good while we shopped.  We made it a game.  We’d talk about the different foods we were getting and he’d help me count out objects.  He liked it and it kept him occupied.  We did this as we made our way up the aisles of Travers Market, filling the carriage with enough groceries to last our first week in our home away from home.  When the cart was full, we made our way to the checkout.  There was a customer ahead of us and while I tried keeping Noah occupied with pictures from a recipe magazine on the counter, I thought I noticed Mrs. Parrish glancing at me curiously.  I wondered if she recognized me. 

“How are you today?” Mrs. Parrish asked when the other customer was on their way.

“I’m fine.  How are you?” I asked as I unloaded the groceries while Noah started singing
Bingo
a little louder than I would’ve liked.

“Well, thank you,” she said, scanning and bagging the groceries, still eyeing me. 

Mrs. Parrish and I were silent, but the sounds of the scanning and Noah’s singing filled the void.  I loaded the bags into the cart and started digging out my credit card as she finished up.

“Pardon my asking, but are you one of the Davis kids?” Mrs. Parrish asked as I was handing her my card.

“I am.  I’m Beth Davis…well, I used to be Beth Davis.  It’s Sawyer now,” I said, surprised she remembered me.

“I thought you looked familiar.”

“I’m surprised you remembered me,” I told her.

“How could I forget that beautiful blonde hair of yours.  It was always so striking.”

I think I blushed as I pushed a piece of the hair she’d just complimented that had escaped out of my ponytail behind my ear.  The hair she was referring to was that of ten years ago, not of now, which spent most of its time pulled back in some way simply because of convenience.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been here, hasn’t it?” she said, scanning the credit card.

“Almost ten years, I think.  I’d just graduated high school the last time I was here.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back.  Will you be staying long?”