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The first time Buck returned to the ocean after the tsunami, he was surprised about how loud it was.
It had only been a few days since the tragedy. He’d driven straight to the coast after leaving Eddie’s house, after spending those first few nights trying to offer whatever comfort he could give to Chris, while also trying to get over his guilt for putting him into danger. While none of the Diazes in Los Angeles blamed him, he blamed himself.
When he had been traveling, Buck seemed to always find himself heading towards water. Usually it was an ocean, but sometimes it was the nearest large river or lake, depending on what part of the country he happened to be in. Which is why he wasn’t surprised to find himself parking a short distance away from Zuma Beach and walking along the empty sand.
Normally the beach would be full of people, regardless of what day of the week or what time. But today it was almost empty. The waves that came in seemed to crash instead of settle as they normally did. The sounds of the seagulls bounced off the few structures around him.
Buck walked until he found an area that no one was near, then settled down in the sand, just out of the water’s reach. He just sat quietly, watching the waves, spying a few surfers that would always brave but respect the ocean for what it was. Beautiful, but dangerous.
Just sitting close was at least a bit terrifying. He remembered the rush of water around him, tossing him from side to side, ripping Christopher from his arms. There were moments he could feel the coldness from being underwater, when he couldn’t figure out which way was up. Watching one of the few boats out in the water (probably sweeping for more victims to ease the family members left behind) brought back the memory of sitting on top of the firetruck with Chris, water lapping against the metal as they waited for the rescue that was just minutes too late for them.
His phone ringing drew him out of his increasingly dark thoughts. He quickly pulled it out and hesitated. Eddie wouldn’t exactly be happy to hear that he had driven almost an hour away from his house to spend nearly two just sitting in the sand and watching the same ocean that nearly had killed them only a few days prior.
Just as it was about to send Eddie to voicemail, Buck quickly swiped to answer it.
“Why are you in Malibu?” Eddie said, not letting him even say any sort of greeting.
“I just drove. This is where my jeep led me,” Buck answered. The next wave came in, coming within inches of his sneakers, leaving behind uncovered seashells.
He wasn’t surprised that Eddie was tracking his movements. When they’d gone to get him a new phone two days after the tsunami, the man had almost bullied him into making sure that he had the “find my friend” feature turned on at all times. Buck didn’t let it bother him. He knew that it actually was a great comfort for Christopher, who apparently had demanded to know if Buck was safe at home that night after he got the phone and had gone back to the loft. If it eased their worries, he’d keep it on forever.
“Well, lead your Jeep back here. Christopher is demanding your presence at dinner tonight.” Eddie’s tone, still tinged with worry, was slowly turning towards amusement with every word. It greatly helped.
“I’ll leave in a few. And yes, before you ask, I will text you before I get on the road.” When Eddie got like this, it was best to just ease his mind with a few words. Buck had learned that while he was still laid up with his busted leg. He wouldn’t antagonize him right now.
“Good. See you soon. And don’t stop back at your loft, you can shower off here. You left some stuff the other day.”
Buck agreed and ended the call. He didn’t jump right up, instead taking that extra minute to just breathe. But reality was calling, so he carefully pulled himself to his feet, dusted off the worst of the sand (which he was not looking forward to cleaning out of the jeep the next time he had a chance, maybe he could trick Eddie into doing it so he could avoid the water… decisions for tomorrow), and slowly walked off the beach.
Even if there was still a part of him that was panicking about being so close to the ocean, just being there seemed to help. He felt a bit calmer, just like he did when he fled to water in his twenties.
He wasn’t healed by any means.
But it was a necessary start.
A foundation. One that he could build on, day by day.