Page 16 - Vol. VII #1

Thirst
They sailed out of San Francisco with the rain slapping the sails like an angry god. The storm picked up just after they left. They carried the wind on their backs, and the water, instead of licking
the side of the boat soothingly, now charged at the hull in large, foamy waves, turning from gray to white and white to black as they were swallowed
by the storm. Marion’s mother, Lidia, was clean, Marion was almost sure; she had been clean for a week. She stared ahead at the ocean, seeing neither Marion watching her nor the man at the front fid- dling with the jib, while the blustery wind slapped flurries of rain against her face. They met the man the night before at Dollar Tree, and he’d came back with them to their motel room when they left the store, although he stayed for only ten minutes and that behind a locked bathroom door with Marion’s mother. Marion didn’t like the stench of the man or the careless way he bumped into Lidia when they’d emerged from the bathroom—he didn’t even apolo- gize—but he’d promised to take them to Los Ange- les and now here they were. Two deep lines scarred the smooth space between Lidia’s brows as she sat in the back of the boat motionless, pushing her skirt down between her thighs, the furrow on her fore- head dogged as the crashing waves.
Marion wanted to lay her head in her mother’s lap but knew her touch would be unwelcomed. Lidia was still in pain, even though a week had passed since her last bag of heroin. Marion believed this because as was her practice, she helped her mother shoot up to ensure that she didn’t accidentally overdose, leaving nine- year-old Marion alone—the only fear Lidia seemed to have in life strong enough to make her finally quit.
The sky began to clear and turn blue only as they ap- proached Santa Cruz. By late afternoon, the sun
had come out, kissing the water off their faces and making Lidia smile again, and Marion breathe again, so both reached out at the same time and took the other’s hand—around 7:00pm they abandoned their seats, stripped to their bathing suits, and jumped into the ocean.
They were fish in the water, happy and free. For a suspended moment, Marion believed that to be true. Occasionally they saw a dolphin in the distance, like a streak of overcast sky, one of them swollen-bellied with a calf, and Marion heard her mother let out a shriek of joy, her first in many weeks.
Lidia began to swim towards the dolphins. She leapt 9
free of the water with a powerful sweep, and Mar- ion’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of a mother
so strong. Each sweep of Marion’s arms arched into the air, then cut through the waves, her body lunging forward, sliding through the water, her feet creating a series of tiny whirlpools as she kicked. The foam she left behind shined in the flattening light like a string of diamonds.
Marion, suddenly fearful, wanting Lidia all for her- self, turned back towards the man on the boat to see if he was watching.
The man waved his arm in an overblown, impatient motion, his faded Ed Hardy t-shirt riding up nearly to his chest, as if he was excited, even happy for them, cheering them on, but of course he wasn’t, he was demanding them to return to the boat, and Marion understood that the moment was over.
~
After the sun faded away, the ocean became loud. It must have been loud before too, Marion knew, but somehow the darkness, amplified the sound of the waves drumming on the hull. The moon was bright and the stars seemed so close Marion reached out
to touch them, her fingers spidery in the blue-black light, and she imagined she could collect the stars with her hand and store them in a large wooden box like a pirate’s bounty. The air was still warm but with a hint of chill now that felt vaguely frightening on her bare arms. But the curve of the waves in the darkness seemed to embrace her as did her mother; Lidia sat straddling her with her long legs, resting her chin on Marion’s shoulder; and Marion allowed herself to fall asleep at the sound of her mother’s calm, even breath in her ears.
When she awoke, Lidia was still holding her. It was dawn and the light was shifting, the blue and gray melting into amber and gold, and the air around Marion’s neck was balmy and soft. They were in a bay near the shore and dragonflies drifted in col- umns around them, along with sandflies that rose like smoke from the sand where they were hatching. Marion saw some butterflies near the cord grass, swallowtails and Parnassians and checkerspots, emerging from the ground as specks of yellow, white, and orange. Some bold flies buzzed around Marion’s face and Lidia flicked them away. Her mother told her that they wouldn’t have time to stop at the beach, the man had plans and they had to hurry, and Marion said she didn’t mind, and she really didn’t. It was enough to be sitting in the gentle breeze, with Lidia, taking in things slowly.
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