Fare Forward (22 page)

And I think of my grandmother. The many times we were on the roof under the blanket of stars. The things she would say to me.

"Your life is limitless, Gabriella."

"I don't understand."

"You can't imagine the places, the worlds out there."

"I want to."

She would look away and pull me closer.

"Why are you sad?" I had asked her.

"I wish I could be here with you, when it happens."

"When what happens?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Your first real kiss, when you hold hands, when you feel the pounding inside of your heart or that it simply might stop, when you find what you're looking for."

"You will, you
will
be with me."

"Look up there, Gabriella." She pointed into the night sky. "Can you see it?"

"What?"

"Forever."

"Where?"

"All around you."

There is so little I feel sure of except for one thing. Benjamin is part of my future. I know it; I have seen it, and I am hanging on to this belief.

Trying to trust my heart.

The sun casts its last light across the grasses that shape the path to the beach. The sea breeze touches my cheek, acknowledging my return. This is the image, the sensation I hold in my mind when I am away for too long. I can conjure up the feeling of the wind on my face and the rhythmic sound of the sea, as if I was standing right there. My hand skips along the old wooden fence that is so characteristic of the New England beaches, marking the procession up then down to the sea. The dunes create a natural buffer that hides the swimmers from the road and scattered homes.

I zip up my wet suit, knowing that without it the shock of the water's temperature will be too much to bear. A tradition I try to engage in every time I return home, the swim is like the ancient ritual of immersion that centers around the idea of hope. The belief that in moving waters is the power to purify. My ancestors had performed this physical act, and I knew it was often used to represent a radical change of heart or total commitment to something. Or someone.

A group of geese sound their way in the sky above, heading south for the winter on their cyclical path. The drive from their instinct telling them exactly where to go and what to do. Lucky, to find answers that are buried deep in their DNA. No room for doubt.

I walk toward the horizon and close my eyes. The icy bite stings my ankles. I push off from the sandy bottom, and my legs float up as my body becomes horizontal. I feel the tug of the moon and the power of the tide as my body is lifted out into the sea. The sky is pink and orange, a composition of shapes created as the sun moves into the west and clings to the last moments of the day. My ears submerge below the surface and connect to the sounds of the marine world. Safe and familiar, quiet. I rest in the rocking motion of the water as it carries me away from the shore.

I want to empty my mind, to feel all these sensations, but the powerful force in my head is back. When I can
see
things, that are about the future. But this time, it's different and—amazingly—it feels wonderful. I welcome the feeling, because it's about
him.

We are together, far away on a beach. Not Gloucester, not even on the Atlantic but somewhere else, warm and secluded. I see the water that is so blue, bluer than any I have ever seen. The soft, warm breeze blows over my body, and I touch the white-powder sand. I scoop it up and let it escape slowly through my fingers, feeling its softness. My head rests on a towel and he leans over me, blocking the light so I can look into his green eyes, impossibly close to my face. I love the way he feels.

"Gabriella," he says my name, softly, slowly.

"Yes?"

"Is this what you thought it would be like?"

My mouth covers his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. I push them open with mine as I drink him in. I want to answer his questions with my body.

"Yes, no—I hoped it would feel like this—but it's better. So much better." I pause to fill the space with words from my heart. "We are the lucky ones."

"Do you know how much I love you?"

My fingers touch the line of his brow. I lift the bottom of his soft ear and wrap my hands around the back of his neck and pull his face closer to mine.

"How do you know?" My voice is low.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know when someone loves you,
really
loves you. For the right reasons. That you'll be loved no matter what happens?"

"You will." He leans over and whispers to me, "You already are."

I feel his breath and lips on my neck as he moves down between my breasts. My body rises to meet his mouth. Soft, warm, slow. There is no need to hurry, no rush.

We have forever.

"I don't want you to worry about anything, Gabriella. Know that I will always come back for you."

I don't want to talk. I want to feel him, all of him, everywhere.

"Yes, I know, I believe it. We'll be together. Now
kiss
me."

His eyes burn into mine. "Remember that. It's the only way."

As I reach out I feel him dissolve and slip away, my hands slice instead through icy water.

It's over. The beautiful vision, the dream of him with me. Gone. I'm alone—in the dark. Suddenly, I feel the familiar rocking motion of the water change into a twisting, pulling sensation. I have drifted much farther away from the shore than I had intended, and panic wells up inside of me as I drift farther away from where I want to be. I scan the horizon for lights. The waves grow with intensity as the incredible undertow pulls me out. I try to swim, pushing my body with every ounce of energy I have, using sheer will to force my arms through the icy water. The waves are crushing and pulling me under. Spinning and throwing me about, like one of the many lobster buoys that dot the coast. I realize that I am going nowhere; the force of nature is too powerful to overcome.

Try to stay calm,
I tell myself.

I tread water and catch my breath, get my bearings, but my arms are thrashing for survival. I reach toward the surface but am repeatedly pulled down, and I submerge. I force myself back into the night sky and gasp for air and try to escape the horrifying feeling of being sucked down.

Oh my God,
my mind screams in panic. My legs are numb from the cold, and I try again to gather my strength and swim, propelling my body forward. I am unwilling to accept the terrifying inevitability of what is happening. The vacuum pulls me farther into the grip of the sea. Air bubbles, floating, twisting hair, and limbs create a swirling composition of fear and wonder. Salt water rushes into my lungs and its weight carries me down, deeper, into the infinite blue space. Darkness wraps around like a thick fog as I become one with the sea. The crushing pain is gone now because I've left my heart behind.

Yet, I can feel him with me, the way our bodies would meet in the dark and in the light, floating in the moving tide of our pleasure, the worlds between us melting. I need to remember—I will always remember—everything I love about him. I know that I could paint every one of his words with my brush, draw the shape of his breath with my pen, and sculpt the meaning of his thoughts into stone. But I understand that it cannot be. I'm tired of fighting, searching, and trying to understand. Instead I let go to the powerful force and know that, no matter what happens, this is not the end.

The last conscious thought I have is the faint recognition of a strong hand pulling me up and out of the sea.

Back into the night air and this world.

E
VEN THOUGH MY EYES are closed, I know he is with me.

I can see myself, down on the sand, lying still. I want to gasp for the breath I thought had left me forever. But I can't. I try to answer him, meet the sadness in his words and tell him that I am here. There is the astonishing shock of pain and cold trying to rocket my senses back to the world of the living. I need to be there with him, to feel him touching me, but I know I am caught between two worlds. I need to get
back.

"Gabriella!"

I hear my name being called. It sounds so far away.

"Please, Gabriella, please breathe!" His words break the silence, the mystery of how I got to this cold, dark place. But, I know one thing. He has pulled me from the waters. Saved me.

I want to get back into my body and feel the stillness of the earth under me. I know the rocking motion and pull of the sea is far away and I fight for my consciousness to return. I hear his voice, desperate, pleading, and something else: The waves crashing on the beach. I recognize that I am no longer in their grasp but safely away from their overwhelming force and power. His weight is on me, shielding my body from the night wind, heavy and warm. I try to form thoughts of what has happened, as flashes of memory tear through my mind.

"No! Please, come back to me. Come back," he begs.

I want to answer, to tell him that I am here with him, but I can't.

My eyes will not open. My body feels heavy, my lungs are full of water. His head moves, he listens to my chest. His mouth is on mine as he desperately tries to push the life from his body into me, the air from his own lungs filling mine.

"I won't let this happen. This will
not
happen, Gabriella—breathe, please!"

He stays over me, not giving up, forcing his breath into me as he pushes the sea out of my body. I feel oddly detached, separate, as I watch the scene. I want to go back to the other place, the beautiful warm beach. The sunshine, the white sand, my body intertwined with his. Just let me go there now away from this pain.

"Gabriella!"

And then, I am coughing. Pulling his life force into me. Taking what he offers.

Breathing.

I open my eyes and see the sky, the stars framed in the black velvet blanket that shelters our earth, and then—I see him. The beautiful face with unforgettable eyes looking down at me.

"Benjamin." The instant recognition that he has pulled me from the water all makes sense. "It's you." The words whisper out of my mouth.

He is shaking, tears of relief come down his cheeks as he hears me speak. His face is so close to mine. His hands touch my matted hair, which has been twisted by the sea. He pushes it away from my eyes and pulls himself up onto one elbow as he turns to face me.

"I can't lose you, I won't ever let you go again, Gabriella."

I am unable to move, too weak to even respond or question his words or what they mean. I close my eyes tightly in response to the crushing pain in my shoulder and ribs. I realize that my arm is twisted in an unnatural way. The sea is wild and a distant part of my consciousness acknowledges what has happened as fragments of memory crystallize. He leans in toward me, and I can hear his urgent voice as I try to focus and clear my mind.

"Look at me, Gabriella. Are you all right, can you move your arm? I need to get you inside—it's too cold here. I'm going to lift you now."

I can feel his warmth, his breath. His lips move slowly across my salted lashes and brows, down my cheeks and gently touch the surface of my lips. Despite my pain and disorientation, I recognize the crush of desire I feel. I need to know where he has been these last few weeks. I want to tell him that I have been looking for him. Waiting.

That my life has been empty in a way I have never known before.

I had always believed, hoped, that when I met the person I was meant to love forever, my spirit would acknowledge the instant of recognition. As if programmed into the deepest part of my soul was that very moment and the promise of all that was to follow.

"Benjamin," I say so softly I can barely hear the words myself, "I've been looking for you."

With a wistfulness and melancholy that I cannot understand, he responds, "I know."

I can see in his eyes the acceptance of an inevitability that he has tried to fight against. I reach up to pull his face toward mine. The salt taste of the sea is still on my lips, mixing with what I realize are tears of gratitude and relief.

Everything in my life has prepared me for him. This is where I am destined to be. I know that I will fight with everything in me against being without him the way I had endured the last few weeks.

The stars are my witness, I have found what I've been searching for.

I
AM IN THE PLACE between waking and dreaming, disconnected from my body yet in it. Watching and aware.

I am
alive.

Warm in the safety of my bed, I'm surrounded by soft pillows and my feathered quilt. The cushion of the familiar mattress is a welcome comfort. Warm and stable. I feel their presence, the voices that discuss my condition, rising and falling. The first one, Maggie's, is low and concerned, the other—unforgettable. It's the voice that sounds like heaven to me.

Benjamin.

I know they are in the room, whispering and watching. They think I'm sleeping. Slowly the events of the earlier few hours start to come back to me, flashing through my memory in clear visual frames. So powerful that they overwhelm the haze created by the strong painkillers I had been given. I shift slightly in the bed and feel a dull pain. My shoulder is bandaged tightly, dislocated by the crush of the surf and the frantic effort to release myself from the grip of the undertow. I remember everything, but mostly the miraculous sensation of being pulled out, carried from the water, and Benjamin's face, his breath everywhere over me. In me.

Maggie is crying. I haven't seen her cry since my grandmother died. I want to tell her that I am here, alive. That I have been saved and that I am happier than I have ever been. But I have to keep fighting to stay conscious. My body wants only sleep, warm, protected, safe, still sleep.

"Is she all right?" It's Maggie's agonized maternal voice.

I see the blur of her face over mine. I feel the light touch of her rough hand on my cheek as I try desperately to open my eyes.

"Yes, she will be fine, remember what the doctor said. She has to recover from the shock." Benjamin's voice is calm, certain.