The Hunger Of The Waves

The darkness seemed to suffocate me as I dug my nails into my palms, muscles tense, until I looked up and remembered that stars existed.

For just a second, I remembered Mom; how she would point out constellations and explain how, long ago, people used them to know where they were, far out at sea.

It was so painful to think about her.

The waves crashing down on the rocks below pulled me back to reality, where Mom was gone and there was nothing I could do about it.

I stared out at the dark ocean, white seafoam shining under the moonlight. Waxing gibbous, Mom would’ve said. Full in two nights. All I could do now was remember, no matter how painful. Remember her love for the ocean, the sky, and everything in between.

Oh, how she loved the ocean. The endless void of water, the mystery, the thrill. How ironic that the ocean would be what killed her.

I stared down at the waves, feeling too many things at once.

Hating them, because they took her.

Loving them, because she had.

I checked my phone. The too-bright screen announced that it was 2:37 AM. Dad would say it was too late. Mom would say it was the perfect time to stare at the stars.

Tears rolled down my cheeks for the first time in days, as the familiar feeling of pain flowed through me, overwhelming me, taking control.

When I finally didn’t feel like I was drowning, it was 2:56 AM and my palms had red marks where I’d dug my nails.

Will the pain ever leave? I wondered, wanting to feel normal again and knowing I couldn’t.

The wind snapped around me as I shivered. It was cold now, really cold, and I wished I’d brought a sweater.

You have school at 8, the little voice inside my head whispered, go back home and sleep.

My thoughts raced as I walked down from the cliffs that bordered the high side of the island. I turned on my phone’s flashlight to see as I walked towards the house.

When I made it back, it was 3:24 AM and I quietly climbed up the stairs to my room, not because Dad was sleeping — he wasn’t even here — but because I couldn’t stand the noise, not when Mom has always been the noisy one, not me.

Why did everything remind me of her? As I closed the door to my room and tucked myself into my bed, I thought of her, remembering how she and Dad would tuck me in every night, when I was younger.

I felt so pathetic, being seventeen and wishing my Mom would tuck me in. Wishing Dad could be home more often, even though I knew that money was tight.

He’d come home tomorrow, smelling like fish and sea salt, then take a shower, change out of his fisher’s clothes into something normal, and make dinner as if nothing was wrong.

As if Mom wasn’t gone.

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, waking up at 7 AM when the alarm rang as I drowsily tried to turn it off. I quickly went downstairs to pack my bag, and left without eating breakfast.

I walked to the school building, which was nearer the island’s center, and met up with Robin, who had been my friend since my very first day of school.

“Kai, you look terrible,” she said, “Did you even sleep?”

“No,” I replied with a chuckle.

“Were you at the cliffs again?” She demanded, her tone almost accusatory.

“Maybe,” I said, feeling the grin on my face and doing nothing to stop it.

“Kai, you can’t keep doing that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s unhealthy.”

“I don’t sleep anyway, might as well go do something.”

Robin sighed, clearly giving up. We had this fight every time, and it felt nice to know she cared, but I wished she’d drop it. It wasn’t like I was hiding away from everyone. I didn’t stay up there for days or anything crazy like that.

But yeah, she was worried. Of course she was.

She’s being a good friend, I told myself, don’t be mad at her for that.

“You ready for math?” I asked her, trying to distract her from my problems.

“Shoot, I forgot it was an A-Day!”

“Oh course!” I said, and she laughed.

“I hate math!”

“I know that!” I said jokingly, thinking back on the million times Robin had told me exactly that.

———————————————————————————————————

The bell rang and we took our seats in the math class. Boring, boring math. To be honest, I kind of hated math, too. The teacher, Miss Murphy, droned on and on about quadratic formulas while I doodled in my notebook, waiting for the period to end so that I could leave.

She passed out the homework for the day as the bell rang, and all of us in her class stood up at once and walked right out the door.

Next was English with Mr. Thompson, who had us read and annotate some stupid article about dealing with grief.

‘About 40% of grievers meet criteria for major depression within a month of loss,’ I highlighted, then wrote about how that seemed like both a big and a small number at the same time.

At the end of the class, I stood to leave, but Mr. Thompson called out for me to stay back.

What on earth was this about? This was the only class I had good grades in, so it wasn’t that.

“Katherine,” he began, “I’ve noticed that you aren’t doing so well. I know things are complicated, what with your mother’s… passing, but if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?”

“It’s Kai,” I said, surprising myself, because I never spoke up for myself, “And I’m fine.”

But my name was important, because Mom called me Katherine. And if she couldn’t, no one could.

“Right. Kai. Sorry. Just — if you need extra time on your assignments, let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” I said quietly, “Thanks.”

He smiled and I walked out to find Robin, who wanted to know ‘what that was all about,’ so I explained.

We went to lunch and I didn’t eat, which I knew Robin noticed and was thankful she didn’t comment about, and then went to Art, where our teacher had us draw 3D shapes, and then to History, where the teacher lectured us about some war that happened somewhere in Asia, like, a thousand years ago.

When the day was finally over, I walked back to my too-empty home through the November chill.

I stayed in my room, alone, just thinking about… well, everything, when Robin called. She always knew when to call, somehow, and today was no different.

“Kai!” She nearly yelled through the phone, “My mom said we can go to the stores!”

Pain bloomed in my chest hearing her say mom, but I beat it down quickly, because on this island, the stores were exciting. You had to ride the ferry to go to the nearest island, Harmonia, which had actual shops and not just a fish market.

“Do we need to buy all the groceries too?” I replied, only half joking.

“Only a few things. But you need to come. My mom said I can’t go alone,” she said, taking on her most theatrical, tragic voice, “She doesn’t trust me. My own mother… how could she?”

“You need to join a theater class, Robin,” I told her for probably the millionth time.

“I would if there was one on the island!”

“There’s classes on Harmonia.”

“As I’ve mentioned, my mother would never trust me enough for that.”

I laughed.

“Well!” Robin said, “You need to come!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll go!”

I hung up and wrote a note for Dad, in case I didn’t come home before he did, although I knew I would.

Then I left for Robin’s house and we chatted on the way to the port, and as we waited for the ferry, and on the boat.

Then we did Robin’s groceries, and got some warm coffee from the Starbucks, and started scanning the stores on Main Street.

Dresses, nail polishes, lip gloss, there was so much to buy but so little we needed. In the end, I bought a bar of chocolate, two new nail polishes, a sage green one and a sparkly dark blue one, a new strawberry-scented lip gloss, and a dark-blue sweater with wave designs on the sleeves, because the color matched the polish. And the waves matched the ocean.

———————————————————————————————————

When I got back home, I was surprised to find Dad there.

“Dad?” I asked, incredulous, “How are you home already?”

“I got back early, got a quick deal at the market,” he said in his usual jovial tone.

“Oh. A good deal though, right?”

“Of course. You know yer ol’ pa don’t settle for anything less.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

He smiled and said “I saved a halibut — your favorite!”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, smiling, even though my favorite fish was salmon now.

Halibut was okay, though. Anything for him to stay around the house and pay attention to me.

Stop acting like a five year old, the little voice in my head told me, you’re seventeen, Kai. Act like it.

I went up to my room to put my stuff down, then quickly went back downstairs to help Dad with dinner. Anything to be with him.

Dad was already preparing the fish, and I started dicing potatoes.

“How was the haul?” I asked.

“Plenty of good fish. Less than last season, though.”

“That’s called climate change.”

“I suppose so. But you can’t trust everything everyone says.”

“I’m trusting the scientists. Their job is to research this correctly.”

“They don’t spend as much time on the water as I do. I say the fish are afraid.”

“Yeah, because of climate change.”

He laughed at that.

I hated when he acted like I was too young, but to him I was young. Probably because he started leaving more when you were eight, said the voice in my head. Shut up, I told it. Let me enjoy this. I almost felt it roll its eyes at me, if that was possible.

“Sweetheart,” he started, his eyes darting over to me then focusing back on the fish, “I’m getting worried. The school called. Your grades are slipping.”

Of course that was what he was worried about.

I didn’t say anything.

“Kath— Kai. I know things are rough,” he said, a new sort of tenderness to his voice that I hadn’t heard in a long time, “What with your mother and all… and that makes everything hard, right?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly, not willing to give him any emotion.

“I know you can do better. You can figure it all out. But I know it’s rough, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said again.

I finished chopping the potatoes into neat little squares, the knife making precise movements, the repetitive chopping sound soothing me.

“I’m going to my room,” I said, wiping my hands off on a towel.

“Come down in a bit for dinner!” Dad yelled after me as I climbed up the stairs.

I didn’t look back at him, because I knew I would see the pain in his eyes, betraying his happy smile and jolly voice.

I closed the door to my room but didn’t lock it and sat on my bed. After a few minutes I started scrolling on Instagram, liking people’s posts and wishing I had one of those kinds of lives.

Eventually my dad came into my room and asked if I’d like to come downstairs and eat.

I didn’t, but I pretended to, and so I followed him downstairs and we had small talk over random things. His fishing. My shopping trip. School.

Eventually I went back to my room and tried to sleep, but of course that wasn’t happening. I stayed awake for hours, overthinking everything but not being able to stop, until eventually I fell asleep.

In the morning, my watch told me I’d slept a total of five hours. Not great, but better than nothing.

That day passed by in a haze. I didn’t talk to anyone, not really, only a few conversations with Robin, but then again I didn’t see her a lot on B-days.

Science, then Math, then lunch; I did see Robin then; and then Study Hall, where I did the two math assignments I had to do, excluding my missing work, which was probably a huge pile now.

Then I had English, with Robin, thankfully, where we started writing an essay about grief that I didn’t want to write. It felt targeted towards me, even though it probably wasn’t.

At home, I moped around trying various things to distract myself, including painting my nails with the new blue polish, but I was still depressed, so eventually I ate dinner and retreated to my room.

———————————————————————————————————

At 1:14 AM, amid memories and a thundering mind, I decided to go towards the cliffs. The moon would be full tonight anyway. Mom would’ve gone outside and looked at it.

I put on my new sweater and tiptoed out of my room, trying to not make a sound because Dad was here tonight. I went down the stairs and into the hall, which had the kitchen to my right and the living room to my left, took my sneakers, and opened the front door as quietly as I could. I put the boots on once I was outside, because they were too loud on the wooden floors, and then made my way up to the cliffs.

When I got there, everything was dark, which was just how I liked it, and although there were clouds, the moon shone through them.

I brought my gaze back to the ocean, the mighty ocean that had been loved by my mother but had claimed her forever.

What had it felt like?

Being on that boat, free, salty air around her.

Then the storm, or the wave, or whatever it was, and the boat, turning over.

The cold waves.

The feeling of sinking.

Being ripped from the boat, dragged into the depths.

Feeling the water entering her lungs.

Choking.

Suffocating.

I only realized I hadn’t been breathing when I gasped for air the way my mother might’ve done. What had it felt like to drown?

Now I wanted to know. What would it feel like to have life slowly seeping away, being dragged out of you bit by bit? Choking on water and salt and knowing that you’d never resurface. Feeling panicked, then peaceful, then blacking out, then dying.

Death would be the easy way out, yes, but it was a way out. What other ways out were there, anyway?

I sat there for hours wondering if I should dive, crash into the rocks below, feel the waters one last time.

I threw a pebble down, watching and waiting, and hearing no splash even though I could see the waters below, with the moonlit seafoam.

Would it really be that terrible to just jump?

Robin would recover.

Dad didn’t seem to feel grief over Mom, so why would I be any different?

Mom was already dead and I wanted to join her.

No one else knew me well enough to care.

They’d stop me if they could, sure, but because of morals, not for me.

Robin, though.

I’ll just send her a text, I thought, tell her it wasn’t her fault.

Tears streaking down my face, I composed the goodbye note.

The suicide note.

‘I’m sorry, Robin. I can’t do this. It’s not your fault. I can’t do this. Thank you for being my soul sister. I’m sorry.’

It felt like too much and too little at the same time.

I waited, as if she might answer, even though I knew that was foolish. I left my phone on the ground, because there was no reason for me to destroy it.

I took off my silver necklace, in case someone wanted it someday.

I kept my watch. It was meant to be waterproof and had a heartbeat monitor, so maybe this way there would be confirmation I died, even if they never found my corpse.

Do I really want to do this? I asked myself, but I already knew the answer.

Yes. I did.

And just as I was about to conquer this last fear, my phone buzzed.

Against my better judgment, I checked it.

‘Kai, don’t tell me you’re at the cliffs.’

Against my better judgment, I answered.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t do this!’

‘I need to.’

‘I need you!’

‘I’m sorry!’

‘Please!’

I was crying now, gut-wrenching sobs that broke through the peaceful night, holding my phone as if it was my last connection to life.

Then there was a shape moving in the darkness, and suddenly I was wrapped in a bear hug, and there were tears on my hair, and this was Dad.

Why was he here?

“Robin told me,” he said, breaths ragged, “And I couldn’t face the thought of losing you, too.”

“Dad?” I asked, not believing this was really him.

“Kai. Kai. Don't do this.”

“I don’t want to live,” I said, my words coming out as a whisper.

“Then please, live for me,” Dad said, “Live for your mother.”

He hugged me tightly, just crying, and I held on and cried too.

———————————————————————————————————

Hours later we sat there on the cliffs, just the two of us, watching as the sun rose, coloring the sky and the ocean pink, talking about Mom. Looking out at her favorite place.

And suddenly, things felt less broken. Less hollow.

Less wrong.

It felt like she was still here, even though she wasn’t really.

She was a memory now, a bittersweet one.

And as the sun rose I made a promise to myself.

I would never fall for the hunger of the waves.