My Lighthouse

Warning; Contains thoughts of Suicide and Mental Health.

Andy Mahelona strode quickly up the stairs of Hale Kukui Point, calling back to his twin sister as he went.

“Abby, secure the doors and windows! I’m gonna turn on the beacon!”

“Got it!” She hollered back, slamming the door and shuttering windows. Andy and Abby Mahelona were 15-year-old twins. They had been practically inseparable from birth. They had grown up on Hale Kukui Point with their parents, the Keepers of the Light. That is until the fateful day the beacon went out during a storm two years ago. The result was a shipwreck before the Keepers could access the emergency light. Andy’s parents had gone out, trying to save the poor sailors from their doom. But it was too late. Too late for the sailors, and too late for their parents. A massive surge swept over the island, washing everyone away. The only reason Andy and Abby survived was the building anchored deep into the rock. Abby rushed up to the last window on the stairs, gazing out for a moment at the beautiful sunset in the west and then the dark, ominous clouds in the south before slamming it shut. She climbed the last flight to the top, where the light was located.

Andy slammed the panel shut on the wall and told her, “The beacon is ready, and the backup lights. And if those don’t work,” He gestured toward the corner, “Then we have those powerful flashlights.” Abby nodded. Andy was leaving nothing to chance. It helped him cope with the guilt of their parent’s death, as well as the sailors. He had refused to leave the island and denied anyone from taking responsibility for the lighthouse. It was his now. Their parents died and now he had to keep the light. Andy had lost maybe 30 lbs in the last year. He rarely talked and showed emotion even less. Abby realized that her brother was beginning to die. She knew he believed that if he had tried harder, he could have restarted the lamp. It was a futile belief, but it clung to Andy like an octopus clung to an oyster. The belief was slowly prying his mind apart, and nothing Abby could do would save him when he finally broke.

Andy watched his sister climb up the stairs. She looked exhausted. Was she that worried about him? Andy knew she had voiced her concerns about his health and his obsession with the light, but that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t die because of being a LightKeeper . . . Would he? Oh well. Maybe he should die. He deserved it. It was his fault Mom and Dad died. They asked him to restock the fuel the morning of that day. He didn’t. Andy knew the light went out because of him. It had run out of fuel. Dad told him as he and Mom went out on the rocks, “Go back inside, Andy. We are going to talk about this later.” Andy yelled over the wind, “I’m sorry! Okay?!?” “GO BACK INSIDE!” His dad roared. “Start the emergency lamp!” Mom called. “We will be right back in!” Andy ran inside out of the blinding rain. He turned back and saw the massive wave bearing down on the island. “NO!” He screamed over the noise, “Mom, Dad, COME BACK!” Abby shoved him out of the way and slammed the door shut, not a moment too soon. The noise was deafening, Andy remembered. The scream of the waves, the wailing of the helpless sailors, the pounding of the rain, the scrape of the boat’s metal against the rock, the sea reclaiming the large ship, Abby’s weeping, and himself, screaming and crying over the noise.

Andy pulled himself to reality, smoothing out his features into the mask he often wore. He wouldn’t die. He deserved to live with the guilt of his actions instead of the sweet bliss of death. Abby didn’t know what he did, otherwise, she would have gone to the mainland a long time ago. Andy decided that he would live as long as possible, but not to attempt to redeem himself. He probably wouldn’t succeed if he tried, but Andy figured he might as well keep his sister company until he burned in the eternal fires of Hell.

Abby flipped the switch and sighed as the huge beacon lit up, filling the room with a bright, warm light. She glanced at Andy and saw his gaze following the bright light of the beacon out the thick glass window, to the now-dark sky and the black, boiling sea. She followed his gaze and squinted.

"Is that a . . . " he muttered, moving closer to the glass.

"It's a dog!" Abby exclaimed, following Andy to the window. Andy turned to her with a bewildered expression.

"What in the name of giant guitars . . . Why is a dog in the middle of the ocean!?" Abby spoke, already running down the stairs to the heavy steel door. She opened it and ran out to the rocky beach, viewing the dark ocean with foreboding. She patted her knees and whistled. The dog paddled toward her tiredly. Abby grunted and looked at the sky.

"Abby, what are you doing!?" Andy yelled from behind her as she waded into the water. There was a drop-off about 10 yards out, but the dog was close, maybe 50 yards out.

"It must have come from the mainland," Abby whispered to herself, diving into the water. She had always been a strong swimmer, but the ocean was a deep and untamed wilderness. She swam farther out, carefully avoiding the few coral formations around their island home.

"ABBY!!" Andy yelled, "Come back! I don't want to lose you too!" She could barely hear him. The animal whimpered.

"Hush, it's okay," She murmured to it. "Come on," She started to swim in, pulling it along, propelling herself toward the island, dog in tow. Andy was freaking out. He was running along the rocky beach, yelling at the heavens and waving his arms. Abby laughed a little, out of breath. She finally touched the ground and waded back onto the shore. The ocean had fought her every step of the way, but she had done it. Abby lifted the exhausted animal onto the beach and grinned at Andy.

"Why would you do that!?" Andy yelled at her, a damp sheen in his eyes. A single salty tear slid down his cheek, and he hurriedly dashed it and others away before they could fall. “I could have lost you.” He told her in a broken voice. Abby paused, looking slightly ashamed as she realized what she had done. Andy enfolded his sister in a huge hug and stood still for a moment. His arms tightened around her as the thought of losing his only family struck him again.

After a moment, Abby patted his back and gasped out, “Too tight,” Andy loosened his grip but didn’t let her go. The dog was shaking itself off now, and Andy finally released Abby from the hug. He gripped her hand and pulled her back toward the lighthouse, where they would be safe from the incoming storm. 

Afterward, they sat at the small table. Abby was wrapped in a blanket and shivering slightly, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Abby breathed in, smelling the delicious brew. The dog was now dry, and they could clearly see it was a large beast, with short ebony fur and powerful muscles beneath. 

“Most likely a Dane,” Abby told her brother. Andy was already a man of few words at 15, but he hadn’t spoken since they came inside. He poured himself another cup of coffee, and when he thought she wasn’t looking, he pulled a bottle out of the cabinet. It had been left to age from when their parents manned the Lighthouse. Andy quietly uncorked it and poured a liberal amount into his mug. He glanced over his shoulder at Abby, who quickly turned her attention to the dog. Satisfied that no one saw, Andy replaced the previously full bottle. He sat at the table, holding the mug in both hands. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply. Abby watched him. She knew that he had put the alcoholic liquid in his coffee. Andy set the cup back on the table and stared into the depths of the fluid. A faint, sad smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. He downed the rest of the coffee and after a few minutes, got up again. This time he didn’t even bother to hide the bottle from her. “Andy . . . I’m sorry.” Andy sat heavily on his chair and then drank straight from the bottle. It soon was over a quarter empty. It had been full at the beginning of the night. Abby sighed and sipped her coffee while she stroked the fur on the dog’s head. Neither of them had ever drank anything stronger than concentrated coffee that was enough to keep you awake for three days. Andy continued drinking. About two hours after he started drinking, he started talking.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else. Not because of me,” He muttered softly to himself.

“What?” Abby questioned.

Andy looked at her with unfocused, grief-filled eyes. “Mom and Dad died because of me.” He slurred. “Dad asked me to refill the fuel that morning. I didn’t. I was the reason the light went out.” He drunkenly put his head on the table and began to weep. “It’s all my fault. If the light didn’t go out, the ship wouldn’t have crashed, then Mom and Dad wouldn’t have gone out to save them, then the wave wouldn’t have carried them away!” Abby looked at him, stricken. His voice rose, “I don’t want you to die too! It would all be my fault. .” Andy buried his face in his arms. “I wouldn’t be able to swim to save you, and it would be my fault!” Abby got up and wrapped her arms around Andy’s drunken, weeping figure.

“Andy . . . No . . . ” Tears began to stream down her face as well. “You didn’t really think that? Did- Do you?” Andy didn’t answer. “It wasn’t your fault they died,” Abby told him in a sad, quiet voice. “The light went out because of a wiring malfunction. Dad told me he would show us how to fix it after the storm! No one could hear anything.” Abby took in a breath. “It wasn’t your fault!”

Andy ignored her words and cried out, “But it would be if you died too!” Abby just hugged him tighter. The dog nuzzled Andy’s hand.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” She told him. “I won’t leave you. I won’t die. Mom and Dad . . . It wasn’t your fault, and it never will be.” Andy lifted his head off the table and turned to Abby. He looked at her with blurry vision and enveloped her in a return hug. “I won’t die.”

“Please don’t,” Andy slurred. “You’re the only person keeping me sane.”

“Huh?” Abby asked.

“I would have killed myself a long time ago if it wasn’t for you.” Andy slumped over on his chair and drunkenly continued. “You show me the path I need to take so I don’t crash.” 

Abby laughed through her tears. “I didn’t know you were so poetic,” The dog barked.

“Maybe the whiskey brings it out.” Andy slurred.

Abby smiled ruefully and shook her head. “Let’s get you to bed,”

“This is going to give me a really bad hangover, isn’t it,” Andy stated.

“Yeah . . . ” Abby helped Andy out of his chair and supported him. The dog walked on his other side, and they staggered over to one of the bedrooms. Abby helped Andy sit on the bed. She took the bottle away from him and began to walk out of the room.

“Don’t forget,” Andy called after her, “You’re my lighthouse. You . . . show me the path I need to take . . . so I don’t crash.” Abby smiled back at him and went to the kitchen.

Andy looked at the dog and slurred out, “I’m gonna call you . . . Whiskey. ‘Cause you brought us together. You know?” The dog barked and nuzzled his hand. He smiled and drunkenly leaned back onto his small bed. “G’night Whiskey. And Abby. And Mom and Dad . . . ” Andy sighed. “I’m going to have a really bad hangover tomorrow.” Oh Well. He thought. At least the storm didn’t break. . . 

With that, Andy fell asleep. When Abby walked in, she was greeted by the sight of her brother snoring away, curled up on the bed next to the dog. “Whiskey? That’s what you named him?” She laughed. “Well . . . ” She pulled the blanket over his still form. “Good night Andy.” He rolled over and muttered something. The dog, Whiskey, looked at her. Abby paused. Its eyes were two different colors. A dark blue-green, and a pale purple. “Mom and Dad’s favorite colors . . . How come I didn’t notice that before?” She looked at Whiskey thoughtfully. Then Abby reached out and petted the dog’s head. “Good night Whiskey. Keep an eye on Andy for me.” Andy stirred.

“You’re my lighthouse . . . ” The barely perceptible words reached Abby’s ears, and she smiled softly. She looked at the dog.

“Who knew the man of stone had a heart?“ Thank you Whiskey. You brought my brother back to himself. And back to me.