I’m Og. Until yesterday my life was perfect. Perfect because whenever the boomerang ran in the air I knew exactly what to do. Day by day and wave by wave. Wave by wave because my friend Holly (no matter the weather conditions) used to bring me at the seaside to play boomerang together. He threw it whenever a wave approached to the seashore, not earlier and not later. I played in a different way; randomly, I would say, meaning that I threw the boomerang whenever I caught it, and I had a lot of fun.
Holly brought his arm back toward his forearm, then he leaned the boomerang back in his hand to make it spinning in the air like a magic toy. I ran toward it and it flew toward me.
I have never been like Holly because I considered the two of us as equal. But the same did not apply to Holly. Sometimes I could see him uncomfortable in my presence, especially during social events held by his family. They have always been kind to me, it’s true. I was welcomed at their table at any time of the day and night. Only I could read the uneasiness on Holly’s face on several occasions, especially at lunch or dinner time. Well, I’ve never been too much courtly, yet I find myself polite nevertheless when I filled my mouth with too much food Holly peered at me from the corner of his eyes, as if I was doing something illegal. We came from different families and habits; this explained our different behaviors. Holly was at ease with me only when we were alone on the seashore; when no one else could see my clumsy way to play boomerang. He loved me, I know; but he still found me embarrassing in public.
Day by day and wave by wave the boomerang left his hand when the wave came to the seashore. Only then. Not earlier and not later. At the right moment, like a magic triggered by the power of synchronicity. ‘Only when the shooting star crosses the corner of your sky, then you make a wish,’ not earlier and not later, I heard many times. The same was for Holly’s boomerang. No wave no game.
There was another interesting thing in Holly’s way to throw the boomerang. Whenever the wave approached he pushed his arms on the side of his chair so that it could move on the sand. Wave, click, throwing. No wave, no click, not throwing. This went on for many years, despite he got a new chair as a gift from his parents. It was on his tenth birthday and I was invited as well. I still remember the cake, white from fresh cream and topped by red cherries and chocolate. I guess Holly can still remember my mouth full of it. I can’t be sure. I really can’t and I wish I could. If he were here I would ask him. “Hi Hol, do you remember all that fresh cream on my nose?” I would ask him, but I can’t.
In the morning I went to the seashore. I expected to find Holly there, waiting for me with his boomerang. And waiting for the wave to come and telling him “go Holly, throw the boomerang!” Well, Holly was not there, neither the boomerang was not. I walked up and down the beach, not sure if I had better go home looking for him there or waiting for him on the sand. ‘He will come,’ I thought.
Then something broke my heart. It was when a wave approached. It was white from its foam, like the fresh cream from Holly’s cake had once been on my nose. It came, it sparkled, it pushed itself in a foamy motion. That was the sign. The usual sign. Only now it did not work. Yes wave, no click, no throwing. That was horrible. Where were the chair and the boomerang? Where was Holly?
Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. I thought that the wave was a sign because it was recurring and whenever it occurred it triggered the same behavior in Holly’s boomerang and chair.
I went back home. Holly might be there but he wasn’t. His parents didn’t seem to notice me. People came and went from the backyard entrance. No one saw me.
I don’t know what happened today. They all seem sad.
I’m Og. Until yesterday my life was perfect. Despite I barked when not needed, I always returned the boomerang back. Despite my nose was always dirty I always wagged my tail making him laugh.
I might not be perfect, yes. I walk on four paws whilst Holly on two wheels, but we both walked together and we had fun.
I went back to the seashore. The sign (or what remained of it) was still there. The wave came but for the second time in a day it did not trigger any magic.
I don’t want to go back home. I fear Holly will not be there. I want to stay here, sniffing the sand with my brown nose. I want to look for the new sign in the coming wave. It will tell me something; it will tell me where is Holly and his boomerang and his chair. Maybe a new game is about to start, I have to find it out. Maybe when the wave comes it will trigger a new magic, I have to find it out.
Or maybe the sign is not the wave anymore. Holly might want a new one. ‘If I only could find the boomerang,’ I thought, ‘I would be able to see what makes it fly,’ I thought again. If not a wave, something else might do it. And if the boomerang flies, Holly pushes his chair from its wheels.
The sand felt warmer under my paws whilst the sun was getting higher in the sky. My nose hit something hard among the golden grains where a half-moon laid under a blanket of sand. My paws dug the boomerang out pushing it under my nose; I wanted to feel Holly’s smell on it. Gently (if Holly had seen me, he would have been so proud) I made it sliding in my jaw, this time biting it softly. I waited for the wave to come to the seashore. Only then I threw the boomerang in the air. Not earlier and not later. At the right moment, like a magic triggered by the power of synchronicity.
The sun reached the zenith casting on the sand the shadow from a white cloud floating over my head.
The boomerang crossed the seashore and the sea. It spun several times before stopping at mid-air. It stopped when another shadow started to move on the sand. It wasn’t from a cloud, unless a cloud can take the shape of a wheelchair pushed by a boy holding a boomerang in his hand.
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Very good story, Santina. I liked how you gradually tell the reader who Og is and that Holly is in a wheelchair. Very well written.
Thank you for your comment, Ruth. Glad you liked it. I've read one of your stories, "Ferries and trains," and loved it.