Salt in the Wind

The wind caressed my cheek, ebbing and flowing like a thief in the night. Sending the tips of my hair flitting about like dust in the wind. Stealing away the last bit of warmth that I’d been clinging to. The sun set an hour ago, but I still stood on the porch staring at where it once blazed a deep orange. My friend’s waited for me inside. My family waited for me. But still, I stood here. 

The wooden handrail was rough against my skin. The cabin we’d picked was advertised as “rustic.”  Which really meant it was old. The glass door that shielded me from the others was like an invisible barrier. With my back to them, I took a steadying breath. If only it was as easy to breathe through all of the chemically enhanced perfumes and designer totes being thrown at me. This was supposed to be a joyous event. A beautiful time. So why does it feel so much like I’m drowning?

I heard the soft click of the door shutting behind me, pulling me from my thoughts and back to reality. The face of my sister comes into view just to my right and I know she’s been sent by my mother to lure me back into my own party. 

“What are you doing out here? They’re going to start opening the rest of your gifts without you.”

 Her voice was soft, just like the rest of us. Out of four girls, Genevieve and I were the closest. Closest in age and in friendship. She was the whoopsie baby that came about almost exactly nine months after I did. 

“I just needed a minute. With everyone looking at me, I felt like I was going to be executed and they were all here to watch.” I joked. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t say things like that about getting married.” 

She’s right. I should be over the moon. I glanced over her shoulder at the group of women, being led by my future mother in law. She was giggling over one of the nice decorative pillows I received. It was all about the designer bags and the fur rugs. Every bit of it was just as prestigious as it sounds. They all donned themselves in enough jewelry to feed a thief for life and designer dresses. Meanwhile, my family and friends were wearing dresses from the sale rack at the local mall.

I was content to never have to put on the pair of expensive pumps that were sending an electric, burning pain up my legs at this very moment. I was happy to never experience the rich society lifestyle. 

Then, I met Davis. 

Davis was just another guy at my school. We both majored in the arts and while he uses his degree for his photography business, I use mine to help a group of kids in the choir program. It’s more than enough to keep us happy. We get to spend our time doing what we love, even if his mother is still peeved that he didn’t go into the business world and marry the daughter of a congressman or some other politician.

No, I am not what she had in mind for him. 

Davis doesn’t care what his mother thinks, though. And for that, I’m grateful. I’m marrying him, not because of his money, but in spite of it. I’m marrying the man, not the money. 

“It’s not the getting married part that gets to me, Gen. It’s the richy-rich family of his that feels like swallowing broken glass.” I tried not to let my frustration show on my face, though the gaggles of women never once glanced my way through the glass. 

“Well. The quicker you come inside and get this over with, the quicker you can go home to Davis.” She looped her arm through mine, pulling me back toward the door. 

“Davis is doing a midnight photoshoot on some boat tonight. By the time we’re done here, I won’t be able to make it to launch. Even if I left now, I’d be pushing it.” 

She puckered her lips in thought before she glanced over my shoulder and pulled me just out of view from anyone who could be watching. 

“Why don’t you tell everyone that you aren’t feeling well and try to catch the boat? It’s not like anyone in there is going to say anything good about this party anyways. They’ve been making snooty comments about mom’s dress all night.” She rolled her eyes on the last bit, which only heightened my anger. 

“You’re right. Even if I stayed and answered all of their questions with the right answers, they’d still find something about me to crucify. Maybe it’s safer for me to just leave now and go see my future husband.” I answered. 

She formulated a plan quickly, smearing the makeup under my eyes so that my look is more tarnished. Before I even had time to prepare myself, she was shoving me through the glass door and apologizing to everyone on my behalf. I kept my head down as she ushered me through the crowd of overly botoxed faces. Every single one of them had the same look of disdain, trying to hide behind concern. It didn’t work. 

Once she was shutting the driver’s door of my vehicle behind me, I finally dropped the mask. I was out of there so fast I think I might have been on two wheels. The only thing keeping me from physically flying through the air was physics and gravity. Speeding down the old back road that led to the dingey, old cabin, I let down the windows to feel the cool night breeze. Even with the goosebumps climbing my skin, I didn’t roll them back up. 

The wind was whipping through my hair, curling around my neck and leaving soft kisses on my skin. Each second that passed meant I was closer to him. Closer to my peace. I can only imagine the look on his face when he sees me. 

Turning on the freeway, I let my hand hang out the window. I enjoyed the way my hand cut through the air like a dolphin in the waves. It occurred to me all at once that having the big, ideal wedding, maybe wasn’t the best idea. It would make his mother happy, that’s for sure. His aunt’s and their preppy daughters, yes. 

Would having a huge, blow out wedding, make him love me more? No. Would having the most beautiful, sparkly wedding make his mother love me more? Also, no. But, she would probably be much happier with his decision in marrying me if I allowed her to have the wedding she wanted… for her son.

I parked at the port and threw the excruciating heels in the backseat before sprinting toward the boat. The men were untying the ropes, just a few more to go until they would be pushing off and out to sea. The large platform that once let passengers onto the boat had already been pulled back in, leaving a gap between the peer and the edge of the boat that was about three feet wide. If I ran and jumped, I could make it. 

“Davis!” I called, waving my arms above my head as I sprinted. 

The smell of salty ocean water practically knocked me back as I sucked in another lungful of air. Calling to him again, I ran even faster toward the boat. Once I got on the portion of the dock that was just anchored and swaying with the water, running became more difficult. There was a barge ship passing by ahead, and the waves were sending the different sections of the dock up in their wake. 

“Davis, honey!” I called again, just a few yards away from the jump. 

A few more steps. 

The boat began moving, ever so slowly inching toward the open water ahead of us. The panic in my chest climbed up my throat and forged itself into a scream as I took one last step before pushing off of the dock with every ounce of power I could muster. 

Time slowed around me as I watched the boat still moving as I flew through the air. 

Maybe this was a really bad idea. 

I’m going to smell like a fish. 

I’m going to ruin the leather interior of my car when I drive myself home covered in port water. 

Just when I expected my feet to enter the drip, I felt the smooth surface of the boat under my toes. 

I scrambled to reach for absolutely anything to hang onto, something to balance me. The sloppy footing I had on the edge of the boat was beginning to slip by the second. I could feel gravity’s pull, trying to yank me back and into the cool water. I could practically feel the icy welcome that was waiting for me. But, in all my flailing, I seemed to have caught something. 

I looked back up toward the boat at the exact same time a strong hand pulled me in. I landed with a thump against a solid chest, his familiar scent flooding my senses. 

“Oh, there you are!” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. 

He pulled back and looked me over, grinning like an idiot when he noticed my bare feet. 

“What are you doing here? My mom said you left your shower early and told everyone you were sick?” He questioned. 

I gave him a little fake cough, smiling up at him as he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“What? I was sick. Now, I’m better.” 

He pulled me under his arm as he led me toward the captain, introducing me to a gray-haired man named Frank. Then, he went on to tell me about how Frank had been a captain for fifty years and how this was his last voyage. His wife wanted pictures of him doing what he loved to commemorate the occasion. 

I got to sit in amazed silence while I watched Davis do what he loved. 

As the old man made each announcement, his voice quivering with age, I sat idle. I could have watched him sail a boat all day. The life he’d already given to the ocean, the work he’d done on it, it was all much greater to hear than a million congratulations from people who do not mean it. 

“Would you still love me if I bought a boat and lived on the sea?” Davis asked, settling in behind me. He wrapped his arms around my torso and pulled me back into his chest. 

“If you were doing what you loved, and let me be by your side, I wouldn’t care what you did.” 

I smiled to myself as I imagined it. Him steering a large vessel through the never ending, vastness of the ocean. I imagined him coming home every night with salt on his lips as he kissed me, and a messy head of hair from wearing a silly captain's cap. He would never take it off, that much I know. 

And I know, just like I know now, that any role he was in, I would love. If he were a mailman, I’d love him. If he drove a garbage truck, I would love him. 

Because in each of these scenarios, Davis would never cease to be himself. He would always give more love than he ever received, except from me. He would never hurt a soul, no matter how wrong he was treated. 

If he had become obsessed with the ocean instead of taking photos, I’d be right beside him. Learning how to say things like sea anemone and memorize every plane of the atlantic. I’d live a life on the sand, breathing in the salty breeze while he irritated the ocean’s creatures. If he came home smelling like a sun-baked fish everyday, I’d endure.

And I’d still love him.