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I woke early with my entire body shivering. All my efforts to keep dry had failed. My clothes were drenched from dew, and from lying in the wet sand. Tim Lan was no longer by my side and that worried me. I thought maybe I’d see him on the beach gathering shellfish, I sat up and peeked out my make-shift entry way.
Windy Point hadn’t changed at all. Even though a few weeks had passed since I was dragged away from Uncle Jim’s house, nothing had changed. Some of the oyster shells I made pearls from were still laid out in a circle. There were footprints in the dry sand coming from the neighborhood that very well could have been mine. I paused for a moment, taking in the sights of the familiar beach. Windy Point smelled different than the other beaches. Maybe because the road and houses were so near. I could smell breakfast being made in the neighborhood. Bacon. I had half a mind to go visit my old house, turn on the range and cook something scrumptious. I wondered if I could sneak in the back window.
I quickly discarded that idea when I glanced at the cul-de-sac. Aunt Agnes’ van was parked in the driveway along with a fancy car I’d never seen before. A sign on the side of the red SUV read Brewer Realty. I guess the reality of the house being gone forever never hit me until now and it hurt. All those years of feeling safe in that little house with Uncle Jim were wasting away. He was the only person who ever really cared for me and that home was the only one I ever really loved. Now it’s for sale. Who’s going to buy it? Strangers?
I wished even more I hadn’t looked that way when I saw a lone figure staggering toward me.
I knew that walk, those gestures, the unkempt hair, the sour grimace, and the verbal abuse that came with them. My insides churned when I saw her, and I thought I was going to throw up.
My mother was not dressed for the windy cool weather. She had no coat and only a sleeveless blouse that blew against her frail body. She had something in her hands. Binoculars? “Dylan!” she called and ran at me.
I jumped up with the intent of fleeing, but I froze instead. I didn’t want a confrontation, but my old self, the little boy that had always done what she told me to do, waited for her to catch up.
“Dylan! We’ve been looking all over for you. What the hell are you doing freaking everyone out?”
“What do you mean?”
“That housekeeper phoned Agnes. She said there was trouble at the boarding house and you ran away. What trouble did you cause, now? Did you steal something?” she pressed.
“No! I didn’t cause any trouble. I did nothing!”
She scowled, her voice high pitched and accusing. “Nothing my foot. Then why are you running away? Agnes gave good money to put you in that home and keep you there. You ought to be horsewhipped wasting your family’s resources.” She moved closer as I slipped my pack on my back, and then she grabbed my arm. Her fingernails scrapped my skin as I dodged away from her. I brushed her hand off my sleeve.
“Don’t touch me!” I said, feeling an anxiety attack coming on. I already had a hard time breathing, and my face felt hot.
“Don’t get sassy with me. Get in your aunt’s car so we can take you back to where you belong. Go on. Get!”
I wanted to shout at her. I’m not a kid. I’m not getting in a car with her. I’m not getting in a car with Aunt Agnes, either. I’m not going back to the boarding house, and I sure don’t need a horse whipping. But the friction of her presence raced through me, numbing every inch of my body. I couldn’t think. What I wanted to say didn’t come out except in a grunt. I pulled away, stronger than her but the cowardly little boy oozed back from the past and I let her drag me over the rocks. I tripped and stubbed my toe.
“I’m not going back to the boarding home,” I managed. The fire in me burned. I tried to scream but my throat was closed.
“Then you’ll come back to Reef Hollow with me. I’ve got work for you.”
“No!” I shot a hopeful look down the beach. Sure enough, Tim Lan headed our way and the sight of him brought me to my senses. I wasn’t the little boy she thought she was talking to. I didn’t have to be dragged around and submit to her abuses. I was Dylan the full-grown man with a mind of my own. “No! I’m not going with you,” I said as I pulled away, pivoted around and broke into a jog, heading straight for Tim Lan. I heard her feet behind me, but I didn’t look back, not until her long skinny arms reached out and grabbed at me. She caught my sleeve, so I jogged faster. Eventually she let go. She was still behind me though.
“Don’t tell me no.” Her breathing grew heavy. She panted “What’re you going to do? Live like a bum on the beach? Not any son of mine. You’ll come home with me. Get in the car.” She lunged at me and pulled my shirt again from behind. Electricity raced through me at her touch.
I hated the sensation. “Leave me alone!” I roared, and the tone of my voice sent Tim Lan racing. Surprisingly, my mother stopped in her tracks.
“You’re awake!” He slowed down just before he reached me, calm and composed. He had a smile on his face when he neared, and he looked into my eyes, as if nothing unusual was happening; as if he didn’t see my mom; as if she wasn’t even there. “Ready for our hike, now?” he asked me.
“Yes.” I said and didn’t look back. He slapped me on the back and took my arm to get me to hurry. With my spirit restored, I jogged at his side through the oyster beds together toward Reef Hollow. I looked back once but that was all. She couldn’t keep up with us.
We ran all the way to the buttes which formed the familiar coves of Reef Hollow Inlet. We ran until she no longer trailed us.
Tim Lan put his hand on my shoulder when we slowed. His touch felt good, friendly, comforting. I took a deep breath of freedom. That was the first time I ever stood up to my mother. I felt proud of myself after my pulse slowed to normal and I could finally return Tim Lan’s smile.
“You okay now?” he asked me. I nodded and took in a deep breath.
“Yes,” I answered. I was all right, now. Being so close to nature and not having anyone around I had to answer to excited me. An added strength came from the salty spray. A strength and a surge of power that was magical, like how the wind rolling off the waves seemed to increase the power of the breakers. It doesn’t really, but there isn’t a good surf without a good wind. The magic was like that now. Not just a tingle in my left arm. The energy came on me when I breathed deeply. It was in the air. I could taste it.
Next thing I know my thoughts carried me over the shoreline, with Tim Lan a short distance ahead because he was more agile than me. High tide crept into the pools, sea stars and anemones swayed back and forth with the coming and going of the current. I shuffled quickly over the rocks and stumbled into the soft dark sand, holding tight to a boulder whenever the salt water came rushing in. My clothes hung against my skin wet, but the warm sun had burned the fog off earlier that day. We cleared the butte just in time and entered the cove at Reef Hollow. Had we arrived any later, we might have been swept out to sea with the rising tide.
We reached the tidepools by midday. The cove brought back vivid memories, almost as if I was there in the past again. As if I were twelve years old again. How painful those memories were! This cove had provided refuge when I was little. It was the place I used to run away to. When I thought of the whippings and all the wrong things I must have done to earn them, the energy in me brewed like a hot tea kettle. There was so much black. Candles flashing in dark rooms. Pain when she’d hit me across the face or with the belt on my back. Sorrow when she accused me of stealing. I swear I never stole anything from her. She’d take me with her when she pawned her valuables, her jewelry which had belonged to my grandma, or her gun, and then buy vodka or beer, and by the time we got home she didn’t remember where her money had gone, and she accused me of taking it. When I told her the truth, she’d slap me hard, or put me in my room and seal the door shut. Sometimes I wouldn’t go to school because I’d have a bruise she didn’t want anyone to see. I remember those times because not until I was twelve years old did strangers step in. That month was horrifying because the social workers would take me in a private room and ask me questions I had a hard time answering. They pretended to care, but I could tell they were angry. Maybe not at me. Maybe at my mom, but they scared me none the same. They didn’t do anything right away. I learned later from Uncle Jim that there was too much paperwork for them to act quickly. Mom thought I had reported her. That’s when the black power entered me the first time. The night the first group of social workers left. I don’t like to remember that day. The black magic was my only defense. Otherwise I think she may have killed me. I had bolted my bedroom door shut with it. The power had shaken my whole body as well as the house and it had scared me for the rest of my life.
Walking in this cove brought the memory back because I used to come here and nurse my wounds when I was lucky enough to escape. I stopped for a moment, the dark of the yester world hovering over me. I waited until the dizziness wore away before I could go on. I sank against a boulder, the salty water in the tidepool stung my toes. Tim Lan moved farther ahead but stopped once he looked over his shoulder.
“Coming, Em?”
His voice kept me from sinking into the past completely. The name “Em” encouraged me. It proved that someone in this world cared. That someone saw me as a friend. I lifted myself to my feet and leaned on the cave wall for a moment. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
When we arrived at Reef Hollow my mouth dropped open, for it bore no resemblance to the beach town I knew from my childhood. There were no crowds of people, no beach goers in their bathing suits carrying surfboards, no alluring smells of clam chowder, fish and chips or candied popcorn. The penny arcade, the carousel gone, the cotton candy, the roller coaster all a thing of the past. Weeds covered what had been a parking lot. Sand dunes had either been blown by the wind onto it, or the sea had swallowed the pavement up in a storm, leaving only fractured blocks of cement and a lone pole that leaned into the wind with a weather-beaten sign that read “Handicap Parking Only.”
The wharf where the Shoreline Trading Post had reached out over the ocean past the surf now ended abruptly. Lost as a fragmented and battered pier, the failing platform wore damage at both ends. Bleached wooden beams hung carelessly over the sea, the ends bouncing on the surge as the waves rolled to shore. Rotting pilings barely supported the platform which at one time had been buzzing with shops, tourists and fishermen. All those shops had completely disappeared.
The long stretch of beach which I remember strolling many times with my mother lay bare. Deserted, save for a small shack up against the far cliffs, constructed of driftwood and two-by-fours most likely confiscated from the crumbling ghost town. I presumed the shed was Tim Lan’s home, for he led me against the wind, in that direction.
Chapter 13
