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It was the crack of dawn, and Machan’s sitting upon the dock. It’s not the first time she’s out here; it won't be the last. She wishes the rip currents in her head would calm. Tracen feels too cramped, let alone her room. It’s no wonder that her legs dragged her out here.
She wonders if she should walk off the dock, fall into the water. It’s not like she’s getting better, at least the noise would grow silent, at least it wouldn’t be as deafening. This suffocating dissonance will grow silent, even if she’ll be forgotten. Just let the waters swallow her whole—
“‘Sup Machan” Vodka squatted down, fishing rod in hand, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Whatcha doin' out here so early?”
“Just… thinking” She said wistfully, looking out towards the sea.
“Mind if I join ya?”
“Uhm… not really.” She scooched over. “It’s nice out…”
“Mhm! My dad always said that the early morning was the best time to do any fishing”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He always swore by it, and whenever he went out fishin' this early, it would mean we would have some really good grilled suzuki for dinner or lunch, so he must be right ‘bout it.” She let out a small hum, before leaning towards Machan. “Soooo,” Vodka started. “What were you thinkin' about? Uh, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to but… I’m pretty good to talk to. Y’know, with me being the coolest and all!”
“Uhm… Can I actually… ask you about something…?”
“Oh! Sure!” She sat next to Machan, facing towards the sea. “What’s on your mind?”
“…” The water looked so serene. The morning's fleet of fishing vessels had already passed over the horizon, only a light breeze left to ruffle the slow, steady waves. “Do… do you ever feel like…” She looked down to the water, staring at her reflection as it wavered and shifted, as she tried to figure out how to phrase it. “…Ever feel like you should have… left. That… that you need to…” Her voice caught. “Need to disappear?”
Vodka's expression quickly grew serious, though her gaze stayed out on her bobber. “Y–You’re jokin', right?”
“…no.” She knew she was trembling. She felt her stomach turn.
She heard Vodka sigh before she slid over, her arm awkwardly pulling her into a side hug.
“Do you know why… you uhm… feel that way?” Vodka gave her a small squeeze. “You don’t need to, like, tell me, but… it does really help to talk about these things, y’know?”
“I… I don’t know?” Her hand drifted out in front of her. “It just doesn’t go away, I don’t get it.” She looked at her palm. “I don’t get what’s so wrong with me that I just can’t get better. Everyone else is growing, thriving, meanwhile… I’m just barely trying not to die”
“I don’t think there’s anythin', like, wrong about you?” Vodka started before letting out a small huff. “Like… not like there’s nothin' wrong about wanting to… do bad things to yourself, but like, that really doesn’t mean there is something just… fundamentally wrong with you?”
“I guess.” So then… “I just don’t get why it just feels like I’m falling deeper into it. I should be getting better now, I’m supposed to feel better, but every day it just gets harder and harder for me to even get out of bed in the morning.” She clenched her hand before opening it. “It just feels like I’m broken. Like I should just give up and…” She let out a heavy exhale. She heard some sounds beside her before a fishing rod was placed in her hand.
She turned, startled, to see Vodka pulling a can of something out of a cooler with a racing stripe painted neatly down the side. Machan had to admit despite herself that it looked, against all odds, pretty cool. “I don’t think you're broken,” Vodka started as she cracked open the can. “Want one, by the way? This one’s lemon lime but I've got strawberry too.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Hey, your loss,” she casually remarked before getting back on track. “But as I was sayin', you aren’t broken. People just don’t all take the same time to get better.” She took a small swig from her drink, setting it down with a tunk to adjust something with Machan's fishing rod before continuing. “My dad had one of his buddies wipe out, tore up his side, and he couldn’t ride properly for weeks. My dad? Wiped out the same exact way on the same exact gravelly corner, but he was able to be back ridin' within a few days.” She pulled Machan closer to her. “I don’t think that first guy had somethin' that made him more or less broken than my dad, but he still had to take longer to get back into tip-top shape.”
“But that’s…”
“Physical injury, yeah, I know, but I think it applies to you too.” Machan felt the rod in her hand get tugged towards the sea. The rod bent towards the blue. She started reeling, clumsily. “So of course, like, of course there’s people like Scarlet, right? Who, when spring starts, get out of that rut pretty darn quick, like my dad did with that injury. But that really doesn’t discount your own recovery, you just need more time, just like my dad’s friend did.” The hook made it out of the water, a small sea bass on the line. “You reeled one up, good work!” Vodka pulled the line over. “Hm… this lil guy is definitely too small to keep.” She unhooked the fish deftly, letting it fall back into the water.
“Oh…” Machan slouched.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s plenty more out there!” She hooked on some new bait before wiping her hands off on a rag. She took the fishing rod out of Machan’s hand. “You just gotta…” She swung, casting it out. “…Keep on trying!” She placed it back into her hand. “That’s the trick. Goddesses, it really does suck sometimes, but as long as you just keep on goin' you can have the chance of gettin' better.”
“I… I see…” The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Was that a twitch on the line? She squinted at the bobber. She wanted to reel it in and see, but Vodka just held out her hand placatingly. “I… I just don’t get why it feels like I can’t really… not stop thinking about just disappearing…”
Vodka took another swig from her can before replying, “I think you’re scared?” Another sip. "I’m not you, but… I think maybe you're scared of it. Part of you just wants it to be over, right?”
Machan nodded. Vodka paused for several moments as she seemed to deliberate over her next words.
“But at the same time, the thought of dying is just…” She gestured vaguely with one hand. “Y’know, the be-all end-all? So everythin' screams for you not to do it, and it feels so wrong, but so tempting. And I mean, it is the wrong choice, because you’re givin' up on the chance of things ever gettin' any better?”
Machan hummed.
She placed half a sandwich besides Machan. “You can munch on this when you feel like it.” She zipped her bag shut. “But like it is really temptin' to just give up, especially when you are doin' somethin' that feels, like, impossible on your own. That’s pretty darn normal, but… sometimes you just need to reach out for help, and, like… don’t think you’re not worth help.” Her voice grew shaky, “People really care about you, Machan. You’re a wonderful person, genuinely unforgettable. You are worth the time and then some.”
Machan let out a small noise. Being told something like that so earnestly felt like a punch to the gut. She felt the fishing rod tug against her hand. She tightened her grip. The force grew, and with no signal otherwise from Vodka, she started reeling.
“You got this. Just don’t give up, alright!”
The line suddenly went slack. Machan’s heart sank.
“Aw, it got away. Let’s reel it in anyways, we might need to replace the hook or bait.” She sounded a bit disappointed. She let out a quiet hum as Machan kept on reeling. She seemed to be deep in thought before she continued once more. “Goddesses… sometimes it’ll feel like we’ve made it so far, improved so much, that things are goin' so well, only for it to come crashing down. Or like you’ve reached some sort of just… inescapable valley and you can’t climb your way out.” The line left the water, dangling in the air, with no hook or bait at the end. “Ah darn, the line snapped, that happens. I’ll just tie on a new hook and we can try again” She rummaged through her tackle box before pulling out a fresh hook. “It’s easy to just say that you have to give up at that point but… I don’t think that’s true. It just means you might need some help to get back to where you were.”
Machan tried to follow what Vodka was doing when she tied the knot, but she couldn’t keep up with the fluid, practiced motion.
“Good as new! Let me get some bait on there and…” She stood up before casting it out. “Off we go!” She handed the rod to Machan before sitting back down, leaning her head on Machan’s shoulder. “It’s really a wonderful view, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” It’s still calm. Boats travel in the distance, birds fly overhead. It’s still just as nice out as it was earlier, the growing warmth of the sun bringing an additional comfort against the cool, salty sea breeze. A gentle silence falls over them—she really doesn’t mind it either. It’s comfortable.
“So… goddesses, this sucks to ask, but… have you ever tried to hurt yourself or… have you been, like, plannin' to?”
“…I haven’t done anything to myself yet. Yet.” The words felt like chewing broken glass. “It’s… it’s not like I have a coherent plan either, it’s just…” She let out a choked noise.
“I wouldn’t be mad at you or anythin' if you did! It’s just… haah. I just have to make sure, y’know?” She chuckled tepidly. “Man, I should’ve asked that a while back. Whatever, look, it’s just…” Machan’s words seemed to fully sink in. “I’m sorry, alright? But, uhm, I think Scarlie and I should keep a close eye on you for a bit?” She saw Machan recoil at that. “Look, look I’m not going to tell her anythin' about this more than just ‘Machan’s strugglin' pretty bad and we should be there for her’.”
“Y–You promise, right?”
“Yup, I promise.” She looked up toward the sky. “It’s just… look, we want you to be okay. We want you to be alive.” Her tone light, her shoulders relaxed, as if her words weren’t hauntingly heavy. Her gaze returned to the water, before shifting for the first time directly towards Machan. She pulled her into a tight embrace.
A few silent moments passed. Water gently slapped against the dock, birds cawed. And Machan mumbled “I–I’m scared…” her voice quaking, tears ready to spill over. “I’m scared that…”
“It’s okay to be scared. You don’t need to be afraid alone. Just hang on for a bit longer, and Scarlie and I will be there for you every step of the way.” The water was beautifully calm, small nibbles traveled up the fishing line, and Machan was crying into Vodka’s shoulder. “All that matters is that you try your best not to let go.” Vodka carefully took the fishing rod out of Machan’s hands. “And you’ve already done a great job so far, and that’s far, far more than anybody could ever ask of you.” She gently patted Machan with the other hand. “So just keep it up. That’s the coolest damned thing you can do.” She earned an amused huff from Machan.
“Th–Thank you…”
“No need to thank me!” Vodka let out a small sigh as Machan’s stomach growled. “Now, you can give it a minute, but get into that sandwich, got it? Skippin' breakfast won’t help ya at all!”