The Cove

In my years, I have come to realise that a place can both remain unchanged and at the same time, cease to exist at all. It might sound like a nonsense statement, but if you have ever visited a derelict building you will understand my meaning. The walls are still there, the fixtures and fittings still work and all the plumbing and electrics sit waiting to be used. Before the vandals arrive there might even be windows to keep out the cold air and abandoned furniture still carefully positioned to make the most of the space. Yet it is silent, empty and forgotten. A ghost of its former self, lacking substance or life. It no longer exists as a building and your mind will struggle to see it as the home, office or hospital it once was. It has become something else entirely, something foreign and dangerous that cannot ever serve its original function again. This is what happened to The Cove. It remained a sand encrusted slice out of the coastline, the waves lapped at its mouth as ever, and yet, it was no longer The Cove at all.

I would never have returned to the place had I not been forced. Emily insisted on it. My wife was not one to ever take no for an answer and so despite my protests, I found myself walking along the familiar cliff path one spring afternoon with a jacket warming my back and the fresh sun heating my face.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” She said as I dragged my feet along the muddy track, “but I am proud of you for coming anyway. I think it will help.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, and I love you for the thought. I’m just not convinced coming back here is such a good idea.” I replied.

“We can leave as soon as you are ready…but we have to actually get there first.” She said, giving me a look that I knew meant to stop complaining and to pick up my feet. Even under the woolly hat, her eyebrows spoke a language all of their own. I was lucky to have her. Her love was only rivalled by her lack of patience for subtlety. She was the fire that fuelled everything I had become, since the last time I had walked those cliff tops.

What my dear Emily did not understand was that the short walk to The Cove was as much a part of the experience as the shoreline itself. It was overgrown and had clearly been used far less in the years since I had left my hometown behind. Yet, I still recognised every dip in the earth, every tree along its edge and every spiked bramble that threatened to tear at our clothes. I knew where to step around the roots that rose to trip us, I remembered where the way narrowed and darkened as if trying to embrace us in its grip, and I did not have to think twice about hopping between rocks that jutted from the slopes like steps. I led us expertly along the rough passage until, more quickly than I recalled, we stepped onto an open cliff edge, looking down on the place that used to be The Cove.

I shot my arm out protectively as Emily stepped up beside me. Her city legs would not understand the caution needed when balancing on the edge of a sandstone-clay drop off. The ground would be softer and more malleable than she would expect. She grinned and tilted her head at me in a motion that screamed ‘I am not a child’, but my arm remained, for in this place, she was.

“This way,” I mumbled “Step where I step.”

“Do you want to stop a moment? Look out? This is the first time you’ve seen it…” She asked, her eyes drawn to the birds-eye view of all that spread below.

“No. Follow me.” I said.

In truth, I would have liked to, but my hands trembled, and my breath came more quickly with every moment that Emily was at risk. I wanted her away from the edge and on solid ground. So, I led the way along the only route that led safely down the sheer wall of shifting stone. The path was marked only by my memory and I was surprised to find both still intact. It had taken my friends and I, the many hours that only teenagers have spare, to scout out the way when we were young. It had proven a reliable descent ever since. As the switchbacks brought us closer to the sandy crescent below, I felt my nerves relax as our altitude dropped. Only when I reached the final step down, the one that would drop my feet onto the white ocean of grit that kept the water at bay, did I pause. I was no longer afraid for Emily. Instead I was overwhelmed with a sudden fear for myself. That last drop, looked life-threatening. Her hand on my shoulder steadied me.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her tone betraying that she already knew the answer.

“Yeah” I lied. Despite all our years together, I didn’t want her to see me afraid and so I stepped from the edge as if it were nothing. Inside I screamed. Being in that place was awakening every foolish teenage notion of pride and vanity that rode on the back of my memories. In this case, I was thankful for it, for I don’t think my adult caution would have allowed me to take the plunge otherwise.

“I can see why you loved it here so much” Emily said, as we shuffled barefoot across the cool sand, her hand clasped in mine and our shoes forgotten atop a rock far behind. In the summer, the surface would be scorching to her unhardened soles, but the spring sun did not yet have enough power to take the chill from the grains beneath our toes.

“It was the perfect spot,” I agreed, “Out of sight and earshot from everyone, only a short walk from town and even now to these jaded eyes, a stunning vista.” I gestured out to the ocean that sparkled under the weak sunlight. It was an endless blue, unbroken by even a single sailboat.

“I would never have guessed a place like this existed down here” Emily said.

“We explored a long time before we found it, and once we did, we never went anywhere else. The Cove was our secret sanctuary, until-” I said, pulling my hand from hers, suddenly unable to bare the constriction of it. Instead, I moved away from her and instinctively began scooping up driftwood sticks as we walked. Avoiding the end of my sentence. By the time I had led my worried wife across the sand, naturally gravitating toward a group of large rocks that had been fortuitously dropped by the waves in a circle, I had a decent armful of firewood.

I pulled a heavy stone to one side at the base of one of the larger rocks and hollered in surprise.

“I can’t believe its still here!” I whooped, pulling out a metal tin. It was beaten and worn to the point that only vague colours remained on it, rather than any coherent design. When I pried it open it was somehow, against all reason, still dry inside. I arranged my sticks into a campfire stack and from within the tin, pulled out a striker, some tinder and set to work. Within a few minutes I had a small blaze burning.

“I was always the best at that” I boasted, smiling at my victory. I sat back, pressing my shoulders against the cold curve of a boulder. When I looked up, I recognised a familiar view from my formative years, and my smile dropped away.

“Do you want to talk?” Emily asked, after patiently waiting what must have been a age of silence.

“You know most of it already,” I began, “we would come here most weekends. Light a campfire right here, in this spot. It didn’t take us long to pick the beach clean of natural firewood, but just over there, on the far cliffs, there’s an old timber shack that must have come down in a cliff fall. We all but burned through the whole thing over the years.” I chuckled.

“You must have so many stories…” She prompted, when I did not continue.

When I spoke again it was to the salt in the air, my vision glazed with the ghosts of my memories, “Benny had a fake ID. He would collect up the shrapnel of cash we would each have hoarded through the week and arrive with a crate of cheap beer or a few bottles of what was only called wine by a technicality. We would light our fire, swim while the sun was setting and they dry ourselves by its side in the growing darkness. Sometimes we would bring sausages, bacon or whatever else we could scavenge from our parents fridges, anything that would cook over an open fire. Josh and Dean were marshmallow fanatics and one would always bring a bag. The four of us would eat, drink and talk under the stars until the fire decided it was time for us to leave.”

“It sounds like a childhood from a story book”

“Well…I’m intentionally leaving out the subjects of our teenage boy conversations, the language we used and the volume at which our stories were told. But on the whole, we were good kids. We always cleaned up after ourselves, doused the hot coals and made sure not to disturb anybody on our way home.” My eyes were clouded by unshed tears as I described even the basics of our time in The Cove. But Emily was right, I had spoken too little of that time and now that I had begun, it was like the dam was broken and it was all pouring out in an unstoppable flow.

“We brought girls here eventually. Only those that could be trusted not to betray our secret spot, of course. Those who would hold it as close as we did. Which inevitably meant we got nowhere romantically with them since not one of us could ever bring ourselves to risk their wrath. Samantha Durney though-” I sighed.

“Oh!” Emily’s eyes lit up in excitement, “An old flame I’ve never heard of! Come on Casanova, spill!”

It was testament to our bond that my wife felt nothing but joy at hearing about my past relationships and failings with women. I rolled my misty eyes and against all odds, laughed past the lump in my throat, before giving her the gossip she so desperately desired, “One chilly evening when the fire did not reach far, Sam opened her blanket to me and snuggled up close. It was the first time in my young life that I felt like a man. The warmth of her head on my shoulder and the press of her hand against my arm woke a desire for something more than simple lust. It made me want to protect and love someone in earnest.”

“So!? What happened then?”

“Nothing, like I told you, once a girl was welcomed into the sanctum of The Cove, we could never risk a messy parting and her vengeance falling against our place. So, we cuddled, and we became more than any young romance ever could have. We became friends.”

“So why have I never heard of this girl until today?” Emily asked, genuine worry creasing her forehead for the first time since I mentioned her name.

“She moved away, after. It hit her hard I think. I never saw her again.”

I leaned forward and threw the last of my small pile of sticks onto the meagre campfire. The warmth of it was spreading and so I shed my jacket, offering it to Emily, who gladly took it and tucked it underneath herself. I had considered her city feet, but forgotten about that city rear, so accustomed to plush cushions.

“Suffice to say I grew up on this beach. In so many different ways. During a thunderstorm I swam in these waters. Stupid, looking back. But so wonderfully liberating at the time to feel the hammer of rain against the waves and lie back to see lightning arch across the sky. We played cricket in the sand, football and frisbee at the water's edge. Dean forever put us to shame with his sporting prowess. We learned to cut and haul firewood, cook rustic food and drink cheap liquor. Josh told stories that he invented on the spot. They didn’t always make sense, but he had a gift for it. Benny introduced us to girls, who quickly became as tight knit to us as we were to each other. I would tell jokes that made all of them groan. On graduation night, we came down here and burned our schoolbooks. An entire era of my life lies as ash under the sand right here. It was our own little world. An escape that held us safely within its sandstone walls. It was simply, The Cove.”

Emily smiled through the tears that were rolling down her cheeks in sympathy. She knew what came next and was working hard to remain silent while I found the words. Her mouth pinched tight to hold in her emotion. Her hand reached out to gently place on my arm. So timidly, as if I might run should she move too quickly. I wanted to reassure her that no matter how much I wanted to do just that, and leave the place far behind, I knew the value in what she was trying to do by forcing me to face it. Instead, I focused all my energy on forming the words.

“I don’t know why they did it! We were smarter than that! We were good kids!” I blurted out, no longer able to hold back the sobs that wracked my chest, “Maybe it was because Josh had just got his license, or perhaps because Lucy was there for the first time and they were showing off. All I know is, if I hadn’t left early, if I had stayed. I would have convinced them not to get in the car after drinking so much. I would never have let it happen! I should have been here! I should have stopped them!” I leaned forward, unable to hold myself upright any longer and let all the grief and fear I had held at bay for so long, flow down the strength of my wife’s shoulder. “They were just gone. All of them gone…so suddenly…and so pointlessly…”

When I was able to control myself once more, I sat back and rested my head against the stone, staring up at the clear sky.

“I never came back here again. Not until today.” I whispered.

“I’m so proud of you,” Emily said, “this has haunted you for too long. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

“I know that, logically. It is a different thing to believe it though.” I said, sighing and shaking my head. I stood and kicked sand over the failing embers of the fire. I tucked my little tin back into its hiding spot and covered it with its rock tombstone once more. I held out my hands, helped my Emily to her feet and dusted the sand off us both, reclaiming my jacket. I looked around at the sandy beach, the slow crashing of the waves against its face and the comforting enclosure of the cliffs.

“We can come back again, if you’d like.” Emily offered.

I paused to consider it, then shook my head and turned to her, ignoring our surroundings for the first time since we had arrived.

“No. It’s just another beach now. Once it was something special, but that place no longer exists. The Cove was what we made of it, it was the feeling of sharing it together, the excitement of learning about each other and ourselves. The laughter and the joy we drenched it in. The life we explored here, the youth we spent well. Without anyone left to meet here, it is just stone, sand and salt. I can find that anywhere. No, The Cove, it isn't here anymore.”

I took Emily’s hand and led her back up the path that only I, in all the word, could now find, and we left. I felt lighter, to have confirmed for myself, that The Cove was exactly where I left it and that place, was not on the beach below.