Dock (Blogophilia 30.13)

 Fluffy clouds hung in the slate sky on the drive home. The colors reminded him of Sarah’s soft eyes on the dock. He relaxed and smiled. How he wished everything could have been different. That Mother hadn’t been such a bitch and pushed him to do what he did. That he’d never met those nasty cops.

Sarah was more than a cousin. She was his little sister even though she was three years older. Someone to protect and nurture. Aunt Barb and her mom were dead and she was left with two shattered legs. Mother had to be convinced to take her in. If it had been up to her, Sarah would have gone into foster care. She didn’t want the burden but was forced by the court. Her resentment was palpable, complaining about cleaning the braces and extra food. There had been many times he had taken the hits from Mother, just to keep her away. 

But that was in the past. It could never change.

It was the day before his tenth birthday when he came home from school and Mother announced they were moving to some backwater town in Florida. She never said how long they’d be gone or why they were going. Maybe Child Protective Services may have been tipped. All he could remember was they needed to pack up quickly and go. 

The only thing he could remember from the car trip was her hair. It smelled like bubble gum and draped like a mop over her glasses. Other kids made fun of her because she was different, but Jeremy didn't. She was the only person or thing in his family he was proud of. The leg braces were a badge of honor, a testament of surviving both the wreck and Mother. The sheepdog dog look was part of the charm.

The house wasn’t much, three rooms of white concrete block with peeling paint and no air conditioning. Sarah got hit when she complained about her braces rubbing. Mother took her into one of the rooms and shut the door. There was a slap and yelp. When they came out, tears were streaming down her face. Jeremy knew not to talk. This was what Mother did. Backtalk was evil and had to be shut down. You watched yourself and your mouth. And she never did say Happy Birthday. 

After supper, they went out to the dock while Mother cleaned up. Everything was so different from the city. The air was a salty, almost rotten smell like something had died. They sat and talked about what it all meant for them. Was Mother trying to keep them away from prying eyes? It didn’t look like there were any neighbors here, just the occasional fishing boat. 

Pointing towards the horizon at the growing sunset, she giggled.

"Ooh, look!"

Purple and gold streaks stacked on top of each other as high as the sea swallowed the sun. A trawler was sailing toward the setting sun, rigging blending into a channel marker. Seagulls screeched and dived in its wake. It was the end of a day and the show made them feel so small. Sarah broke the silence.

“What’cha thinkin’?"

“How it would be good to take a boat out there on the sea.” He threw a pebble out on the water.

“Get away from Mother”

The eyes brightened behind the plastic frames.

“Can I go?”

Jeremy was quiet, weighing how much to say. He knew she wanted to be far from the hardness and abuse. But they had to be careful. Mother had ways of finding out plans. 

“If we can find one." A dolphin broke the water to their left. The ripples spread toward the dock. "I’ve never sailed, though.”

"You could learn. I know you could." A pelican flew in circles above them, looking for a meal. Leaning into Jeremy’s arm, she whispered, "No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings."

He turned toward her. He glanced over. The damp blonde curls had exploded into frizz framing the pale face. Her lips had become chapped from the breeze. Something in Jeremy stirred. She was a vulnerable bird tethered to a metal perch. Either she would be free or die.

“I’m just a kid and so are you.”

She put his hand between the brace and her shorts. The foam pad was moist, like after a bath. They’d need to be hung out to dry tonight. Small dark ovals shone through the damp fabric of her top. He’d seen them before, of course, having helped her bathe when she first got out of the hospital. But something about them was different. They were larger and inviting. It was too much. He pulled away to break the tension.  

"Want to play a game?"

Her face showed her disappointment. 

"What's it called?"

"Logomancy. Arguing with words."

She snapped back. "Floccinaucinihilipilification."

“What’s that?."

"It means worthless, kind of like our situation." Her face was almost next to his. "But I know something to make it better."

She leaned in. But before their lips touched, Mother yelled out, threatening a belt for both of them if they didn’t get their butts in the house right now. They pulled away and sprinted for the door.

The sunset of their youth would come later In a much more violent way. 

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Topic-Dave Coon

Pic-Michele Marko King

Pic Guesses: Mop (in blog), Frizz (in blog), Perm went bad, Bad Hair Day, Humidity (in blog), Mom, Help, In the mirror