Life Ain’t Nothing But a Humbling Experience

Steady, Ephraim. Steady. 

The wave-washed bedrock barely held up my weathered bones as I made my way up towards the lighthouse. I could faintly see the structure a few hundred metres ahead. The fog was dense. Unrelenting. It seeped into my peacoat, weighing me down like a lead cloak. The old thing was stiff and salt-stained and a lot like me; torn at the seams. 

The tower’s mournful drone kept me on track. Behind me, the hush of the ocean breathed in, preparing for its next crash. Intriguing, isn’t it? What some people call unsettling, I call home. 

The orb-like beacon of the lighthouse began to reveal itself. A glowing, ghostly apparition. 

Marlena. 

The light always hollowed my stomach, thinking of Marlena. Her absence crawled all over my skin. I groaned, attempting to rid myself of the flickering in my chest—maybe it was hope, though I never believed in it. 

In the silent void between the lighthouse’s laments, I hoisted myself up on a tumbled boulder. Pushing myself upright, I dragged in some oxygen, the wind biting my skin raw. 

The lighthouse’s warped, wooden door creaked as I struggled to pry it open. The humidity and moisture of the sea air had long motivated it to stay shut. It sickened me, that haunting feeling of being closed off like a tomb. 

With one more gritty turn of the rusty doorknob, I grunted as the door swung open. Nothing awaited me there other than the quiet bellow of the floorboards, swelling and whining like the hull of a ship adrift on the Atlantic. 

I sighed as I sat in the lonely chair at my scarred seaman's table. Cursing under my breath, my hand shook as I struggled to light the damp wick of the oil lamp. My eyes settled under the beak of my Greek fisherman’s cap as the filament finally started to grasp onto the flame. 

As the lamp glimmered with the warm pulse of a firefly, I saw her sitting across from me. The softness of her face highlighted by her coiffed pompadour. The neckline of her dress, caressing her up to her chin. Her irises like water, but not the kind that pounded the shores around me—no, hers were a translucent green-blue, like windows to her soul. I could see straight into her, my dear Marlena. 

The tin mug coated in white enamel stared at me from where Marlena used to sit. She’d sip her tea with such intention as we spoke. Her smile was the energy of the sun whenever she lowered the mug from her lips. I don’t think she was aware how often she glided her finger over the small dent on the side, but I always noticed. 

That empty mug had lain across the table from me for quite some time.  

I had long shielded my heart in an armor of stone. That’s why being with Marlena physically pained me. She was the only person who had ever made the embers burn through the sediment of my hardened chest. My limbs grew heavy every time she traced the sunspots on my hands like constellations. Every time she forgave things in me that others deemed unforgivable. Or worse—every time she genuinely wanted to stay. 

My body boiled with remorseful lava each time I pushed her away. I never did it because I wanted to hurt her, but because the only thing I clung on to more than Marlena was hating myself. 

She had her arms wrapped around mine one evening, her beautiful head resting on the square corner of my shoulder. Like a purring kitten, she rubbed her cheek against the wool of my moth-eaten sweater. Atop our fortress of solitude, we gazed out at the beam of light as it panned the open sea. The stars were confetti spattered against an onyx backdrop. The tranquil waves hummed a lullaby to the moon. 

“I come alive whenever I see you in the night sky, Ephraim.” 

My jaw locked, as though I was bracing for impact. 

“What… what do you mean?”

She chuckled, her laugh equally sweet as it was obnoxious. That was the thing about Marlena. She was an oracle of wisdom, but also a loud clap of thunder. I admired that in her, how she held space for all her contradictions. It made my face burn fiery hot, too, how effortlessly her spirit ran wild and free. I was a prisoner of my own flesh. 

As her laugh trailed off, she ran her fingers through the coarse fibres of my beard.

“Even in the stormiest of weather, the lighthouse illuminates the way. That’s you, Ephraim. When we’re apart, all I have to do is look out towards the ocean, and there you are…lighting the way.”

My mouth grew dry as sweat beaded at the base of my neck. My tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth as I cleared my throat. I could feel the words wanting to spill out of me like rainbows, but as I swallowed the radiance, I chuckled nervously and said, “Well…that’s a fine thought.”

Marlena was the only woman I ever….

My stomach churned. 

I could never bear to say that four letter word. Not then, not now. I was a black spot—like a malignant sore on Mother Earth’s cheek—and I never felt I deserved to have my lines colored in with anything brighter. 

For a moment, I swore I was staring at the bulging veins on my father’s hand the day I raised my fist at Marlena. Her palms protected her chest as she backed away with a gasp. My lower lip quivered like a child’s, realizing what I had come so close to doing. As I lowered my cowardly weapon, I slouched in shame at the paternal pattern that almost played out; one that I had vowed to never repeat, so help me God. 

Marlena’s mouth went thin as her eyes glistened like glacier lakes. Straightening out the skirt of her dress, she gave me a look I won’t soon forget. One of anger and betrayal and heartache, all wrapped in the composer of a woman who knew better than to waste another molecule on a monster like me. 

Marlena may have been on the receiving end of my demons, but I assure you—she was no victim. 

Her usual sing-songy voice was stoic as her words shook. 

“I trusted you with my heart, Ephraim. And you’ve just gone and lost that privilege.”

I’d never seen anyone stomp away with muddied, button-up boots with that much grace. As the lighthouse door slammed behind her like the bars of a prison cell, she was gone. 

Like a feather in the wind, Marlena was gone.

I didn’t follow her to apologize, ever. Instead, I turned into a statue as I watched her tea run cold in her dented, white tin mug. 

****

The dim flame of the oil lamp flickered brightly, startling me back in my chair. My breathing was worn out as I blinked myself to reality. Scanning the narrow structure of my own isolation, my body went numb. I was closed in by a cylinder of cement walls. My blood started to flow thick, sucked dry of its vitality.

I’m alone. 

Looking upwards at the coiling staircase, it resembled a snail’s shell; an ominous, stairway to hell. The lighthouse’s beacon painted my face a ghostly pale every time it rotated past the circular opening at the top. I felt anchored to my seat at the mere thought of going up there to try once more. 

To wait once more…for Marlena. 

But like every other cruel, solitary evening by the seaside, I found it in me to push my chair out and stand up. Step by step, I made my way up, the thud of my boots muffled by the briny air. My exhales created clouds as I navigated the slick patches of ice. 

Suddenly, my heart pounded like a bass drum. I stopped. The stairs vibrated beneath my feet. 

Oh no. 

Reality was about to crash down. 

Gripping the banister tightly, I held my breath. The lighthouse reverberated with the sound of twisting metal, like a whale moaning in the abyss of the seabed. Then, just as my organs began to shake, a shrill clang rang out like a fire poker slamming against iron. 

“Aaaah!”

I covered my ears as I crouched down. My eyes drew wide as the stairs beneath me bent violently, as though contorted by an invisible giant. One by one, they folded in with an echoing screech, making their way closer. Sections of cement crumbled from the walls, exposing me to the harsh coastal elements. The pressure in my head was like being trapped in a vice. Everything spinning, I raced to the top as the wind stabbed me like icicles. Just as the entirety of the stairwell caved in on itself like a row of dominoes, I thrust my body onto the top floor. 

I laid on my back, weighty like a bag of coal. The lighthouse beacon swam fluidly overhead, ghastly and ethereal. 

Marlena. 

With a subtle crackling, the glass encasing the massive light began to break. The web grew taller and wider, sprawling like capillaries. My hands pushed into the floor as my entire body tensed. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted blood. I knew what was coming. 

I hid my face in the fetal position as the glass detonated with a turbulent shatter. My breath was hot in my hands. I waited for the thousands of pieces to finish raining down onto the floor like hail. Slowly revealing my eyes to the scene, the wreckage sparkled brilliantly like a field of crystals. My throat grew tight at the sight of one of the brightest shards. It reflected Marlena’s compassionate smile back to me, no sooner vanishing in the midnight hour.

The glass was the crunch of gravel under my boots as I stood up. Massaging my temples, the rumbling sea taunted me as I looked ahead. Nauseated as my memories returned, I knew it was only a matter of time until a rogue wave would strike. 

As I watched the front of the lighthouse crumble like brittle parchment, I felt that familiar, visceral pull in my gut. A relentless yearning to cross over and finally leave the wreckage behind. But the thought of facing Marlena again—of confronting all the damage I had caused—was a force stronger than anything else. It kept me tethered to this place, unable to move forward. I was trapped, but it was better than being alive. Because I’m telling you—life ain’t nothing but a humbling experience. 

The remains of the lighthouse quaked as large fragments kept falling into the Atlantic. Steadying my breath, I was filled with an odd wonder; what took over a century to collapse in real time, did so in an instant. Yet amidst the turmoil, a rare moment of peace washed over me. I began to float, and as the lighthouse went through its final decay, my chest swelled. 

I knew that wherever her spirit was, Marlena continued to forgive me. 

Overwhelmed of such aching relief, I smiled as the ocean surged forward with one final climactic wave, swallowing me whole once more. 

****

Steady, Ephraim. Steady. 

The wave-washed bedrock barely held up my weathered bones as I made my way up towards the lighthouse….