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Sand squishes between my toes as I stare out at the calm, grey waters of the Pacific Ocean. Listening to the sound of waves breaking on the shore, I take a deep breath of the salty coastal air. It’s chilly; even in the middle of summer, the Oregon coast is always chilly. I let my arms fall to my sides, dropping my cellphone on top of my shoes.
Nothing beats stargazing on the coast. The stars always twinkle brightly, hanging over the top of the ocean. On my favorite nights, the moon hangs low on the horizon, and light dances overtop the water. The thing I like about where I am? This town, the town I always like to drive to, is itty-bitty and far away from all of the bigger cities in Oregon; there is minimal light pollution, so the stars are so bright; I swear you can see the whole Milky Way.
I glance down at my small pile of things and unzip my hoodie. Why was I unzipping my hoodie when it’s chilly, you might ask? I like the way the wind catches it.
Besides, I’m wearing a thermal.
I pull a piece of saltwater taffy from my pocket and unwrap it, the wax paper smooth under my fingers. Carefully, I place the wrapper into the pocket of my jeans. The thick, chewy candy sticks to my teeth, so I pry it off with my tongue. My teeth are very sensitive, but sometimes you just need that pop of flavor, you know?
I cuff my jeans to my lower calf and take one last look around to ensure nobody would sneak up on me or snag my things. It’s a habit, really. Being a girl is a dangerous business to be in.
One foot in front of the other, I close the distance between myself and the cold water of the Pacific. My friends all worry because I like to come to this beach by myself and stay until well after dark. I always try to reassure them that I’m okay, that I’m just coming here to think. I always remind them that I come here by myself because the ocean has a calming effect on me. They always argue and try to persuade me to let them come along⸺but the beach is a very private place for me; it’s the one place I feel truly at peace.
As the water crashes over my toes, a wry smile crosses my lips.
Life hasn’t been easy lately.
Depression has all but consumed every fiber of my being. Every morning when my alarm goes off, I want to slap the snooze button, but don’t want to let how I’ve been feeling be known to anyone. I have to keep it away from Phil. He’s still so young. He doesn’t need the burden of my depression, especially at such a young and impressionable age.
But I’m sure he knows. He’s perceptive.
Today I got the news that Uncle Lucas was diagnosed with Melanoma. Melanoma is the worst kind of skin cancer to get. I’m really hoping that they caught it early, that he won’t die. I want it to be treatable more than anything in the world. Today I had to make up an excuse to get off the phone with my cousin, Oliver. I feel like a horrible, awful person. Lucas is Oliver’s dad, and I can’t even bring myself to be there for him.
Because it was just one too many things.
My adoptive mother, Dina, passed away quite suddenly from a brain aneurysm earlier in the year. I was with my boyfriend, Norman, when I got the phone call. I crumbled into his arms and cried uncontrollably. He held me so tightly and laid his head on top of mine until I managed to get ahold of myself. But even then, he let me sit in his embrace. I am so grateful to have his support. He means the world to me.
I take a step into the freezing Pacific waters. My ankles would numb in just a minute or two. I’d gotten used to it a couple years back when I’d begun to do this. I take another step into the water and draw in a deep breath. I can feel the goosebumps prickling at my arms through my thermal.
I’m not a fan of being cold. But tonight, I just want to feel numb.
The weight of life has been heavy on my chest, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. And it’s getting so hard to put up a cheerful facade for everyone; it’s absolutely exhausting. I’m glad I can just be myself when I’m with Norman. He’s the only person in the whole world I feel like I can show this side to.
I don’t want to worry Ray or Phil or Anna or anyone else.
Without realizing I’d done it, I found myself waist-deep in the water. I close my eyes and begin to imagine letting the ocean take me away, for the tide to pull me in. It sounds so very peaceful.
But I know it’s not. Not really. From my understanding, drowning is one of the worst ways to go. I don’t want to commit suicide, not even a little bit. I would never do that to Norman, to Ray, to Phil, or to my dad, Yuugo. He’d already lost Mom this year. No parent should have to bury their child.
I just couldn’t do that to anyone I love. A friend of mine committed suicide last year, and it left everyone wondering why. It left all of us wondering, ‘What if I would’ve done this differently? Would Olivia still be alive if I would’ve called her more often? If I texted her more often? Invited her out?’
I think I have an interesting view on suicide. If someone is in that much pain, enough pain that they can’t bear to be alive anymore, who am I, who is anyone, to take that choice away from them? Suicide isn’t selfish. Suicide is the final stage of depression. Unfortunately, there is a negative connotation about being mentally ill; for whatever reason, society deems physical illness to be perfectly okay for someone to have. But mental illness? They tell you to just get over it. Go take a walk in the park. You don’t need your medication. Just be happy. You just have to choose happiness.
And that’s bullshit. Olivia had expressed these thoughts to me over and over again. And I just. I wish I could’ve done something to help her. But as much as it hurts me, it must’ve hurt her so much worse.
To be perfectly clear, I don’t want to die. But sometimes, I wish I just didn’t exist. I don’t know if that makes any sense.
My eyes flutter open, and I bite my lower lip. I let my tears roll freely down my cheeks, allowing them to drop into the ocean.
The worst thing is the guilt. I can’t bear the thought of calling Uncle Lucas. Calling him would make it real. It’d mean that I’m acknowledging it. It would mean that I am accepting it. I don’t know how to deal with it. Losing Mom was so sudden that there was no opportunity to be in denial.
But losing Uncle Lucas? It’s going to be a long and drawn-out process. We’re all going to have to watch him wither away, like a thirsty flower unable to quench its thirst with water. I’m just not ready to accept it.
I think about all the silly things we’d do when he babysat me when I was a kid. We did this stupid thing where we’d race to be the first to buckle up our seatbelts. He had a handicap; he had to start the car before he could buckle his own belt. Oliver had been too old for the game when we started playing. He was going through that, ‘Hanging around my dad and kid cousin is super uncool,’ phase that most teenagers go through.
Every Wednesday after school, we’d listen to the radio together while sitting on the back patio. Our favorite station always did a pizza gift certificate giveaway to the third caller that could name a song based on the first five seconds. He was so proud of me when I won once a month.
I’m scared. I’m so scared to lose him. I’m so scared of never seeing him ever again. I’m scared of having to bury him. It’s all so surreal.
I draw in one more deep breath and slowly begin to retreat from the water. I can see that my shoes and phone are still in the same spot I left them. The chilly night air bites through my wet clothes. It was time for me to go home.
I’m still not ready to face it, but it’s a bitter reality that I’m going to have to face. The only thing I can do is stay positive for everyone around me, to be their rock.
Norman tells me, ‘Emma, you don’t have to take on the world by yourself. We’re all here for you.’ And I always tap his nose and tell him not to tell me how to live my life. Then we laugh.
Life is too short, too precious, too fragile. Knowing I’m going to lose Lucas makes me want to scream and cry and curse the universe.
But that’s life. It isn’t fair.
I gather my belongings and make my way back to my car. I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I was going to get sand all over my car again. I toss my shoes into the passenger seat and sink into the driver’s seat. My hands are shaking as I unlock my phone. Six worried missed calls and thirteen worried text messages.
‘I’m okay’ I type out to Norman. ‘Let Ray know, too. I’ll be home in an hour.’
I open up my visual voicemail and find the missed call from Oliver. I needed to call him back. Uncle Lucas is his dad, and Oliver needs my support. I connect my phone to the Bluetooth in my steering wheel and say, “Call Oliver.”
It is going to be a very long drive home.