Safe Spot

POSSIBLE TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE

               It was chilly, but not quite cold enough to need sleeves. The breeze was brisk and sent tiny goosebumps popping up along her arms and back. It was a beautiful night. The water was as still as glass; beautiful, black, unending glass. The sand seemed smoother and more forgiving tonight as she lay back against it, trailing her arms up and down against its gritty plains. Her body was just close enough to the waters edge that the chilly water came up over her toes as the waves gingerly pushed themselves onto the shore. She stared up toward the great expanse of charcoal sky that lay above her. There were so few stars in the sky that night that she took time to marvel at each of them singularly. Organizing in her mind which ones were the brightest. Which seemed the closest. Which ones seemed more yellow compared to those that were apparently composed of pure white heavenly light. As she gazed fondly at the most beautiful natural museum she could hope for admission to, she let her thoughts drift to a place not of reality. She imagined she lived among the stars. Gliding through space, connecting closer and deeper with the dazzling balls of glorious fury that have entranced her for so long. She imagined being close enough to paint the stars in stunning details. Swirls of colors indicating gaseous storms. Beams of light dancing their ways to our eyes. She imagined capturing the stars. Keeping glowing spheres in mason jars as a child would house a firefly. For once, she allowed herself to let go, and imagine. To simply exist in a world that often tried to take all she had from her.

               As she let herself drift to another world full of possibilities, she drifted to somewhere rather unexpected. The place of dreams. The beach front had become her second home. Her real home. Her safe spot. The smell of salt in the air and the sound of birds above her head sent her soul the peace is had lacked elsewhere in life. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, she was content enough for some peaceful sleep.

               When she awakened, she was entirely unsure of how long she had dozed off for. It could not have been too long, as the sky still shone darkness and the stars had not dimmed or shifted. She decided that perhaps she should go home, but not before soaking in a few more minutes of the tranquility the Universe had gifted her. Standing slowly and attempting to shake off the stiffness of sleep, she traipsed a few feet into the water. The calm splashes came up to her knees, smacking her skin playfully. One last look at the canvas of light above her, and she turned for home.

               She lived no more than 6 or 7 minutes from the beach, on foot. It was perfectly convenient for her, in that sense at least. Her school days, job, and parents hindered the convenience of location. If the location is perfect, but life allows no time for journeys, then is doesn’t matter how close the destination sits.

               As she walked, the skin around her knees and ankles became chapped as the cool wind dried the water off her. Night droned on and on, but the walk home ended all too abruptly. Rounding the corner of her street, she could spot her house at the very end. It was the only home on the block with lights still on, leading her to believe it was not quite as late as she had first thought. Her mother was indeed a night owl, but she also had her limits. It was likely around midnight or 1 am if her mother was still up during this level of darkness. As she approached the driveway and began walking closer to the house, she was startled by a sudden yet all too familiar sound. The yells of her father, no doubt fueled by the “liquid courage” he so often luxuriated in. There was not one childhood memory of her father of him without a glass of the burning nectar in his hand. Her mother always said he had a problem. Her father always said the liquor was what fixed his problems. She had never thought one way or another; that is, until the fights started.

               They started small, and infrequently. Bickering over meaningless incidents. We talked a bit too loud. Something didn’t get put away. The house needed better tidying. Nothing of an extreme. But it didn’t take very long before these encounters escalated. Plates thrown across the room when dinner was cold. Holes punched in various walls throughout the house at verbal “disrespect.” She still tried to give her once loving and gentle father the benefit of the doubt. Until he laid his hands on her mother. All her mother had done was looked at him in shock. No words. No tears. Absolutely nothing. And they all continue living together as if these occurrences were now completely normal. As if every family lived this way.

               She thought about these instances as she stood in the driveway that night. Looking into the living room window, she watched as another hole was added to the collection on the wall next to the tv. This time, the hole appeared near inches from here mothers terrified face. Regardless of the visible fear, her mother still did not move; did not speak; did not even cry. Her dad screamed violently; that much was clear. The distance at which she stood provided her some safety from having to hear exactly what was being said. Most nights, she would have gone in through the back, tip-toed to her bedroom, and clamped a pillow over her ears until the screams retreated for the night. Tonight was different. The strength to endure the venomous environment was nonexistent. She refused to accept that this was her life; at least for the night.

*****

               It was cooler now. As the occasional strong ocean breeze blew over her, her skin tensed up and released as the goosebumps took over. The sands soft and smooth texture seemed to have left. As she lay still on the sandy shore, the grains and shells dug into her back uncomfortably. Looking up towards the sky, she imagined different possibilities now. She imagined floating up into the void above her. Drifting alone in peace. She imagined floating into one of the stars burning embrace. Once again as she admired the stars and imagined a different world, she drifted into a heavy sleep. She was at rest. She was in her safe spot.