Part 2: 10 - Drift
Winds and currents and things that float
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 2: 9 - Locked • No easy way through for Maeve and Todd
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
10 - Drift
Lisa Cartwright
August 17, 1988
San Diego, California
Lisa was absorbed in the deep green of the ocean water where it rose to meet the smooth fiberglass sliding through the waves with a quiet hiss. She let the water’s movement mesmerize her. Outside of her view, men’s voices called instructions to each other. Soon Enya began to play from the sound system, cheerfully inviting her to “Sail away, sail away, sail away.” If only.
Tim had decided that this was the best way for them to spend their daughter’s tenth birthday. “Let’s get out, do something different, get our minds off of everything,” he had said.
Lisa had agreed out of indifference. She could be anywhere and the day could not be righted, why not let him haul her onto a sailboat if that’s what he needed from her? She put on a pair of shorts through the heavy fog she lived in these days. He found her sunglasses and now here they were. It seemed to work for Tim, outwardly, in any case. It was just another day to cast his net for new contacts, this time, aboard a sailboat.
A sail on the bay would have been perfect for almost anyone else that day. The sun was warm and mild, shining on the water under a sweet salty breeze. Tim was in his element, apparently finding a wealth of lucrative design opportunities in their host. The two men were deep in animated discussion. Neither seemed to mind that she had nothing to add to the conversation and preferred to avoid any attempts to engage her.
She envied Tim’s ability to detach from his anger and grief. She hadn’t done anything at all in the past two months, unless you can count dragging herself out of bed every day and forcing herself to take in enough nourishment to sustain life. Breathing and eating felt like accomplishments. Creating anything was the furthest thing from her mind. Or, more accurately, her mind was the furthest thing from anything. She wasn’t sure where it had gone, or if she even wanted it back. Wanting required bravery she was too tired to find in herself. How does anyone get through this? Everyone grieves differently according to The Compassionate Friends brochure permanently leaned against her idle sewing machine on the kitchen table.
Working was how Tim coped. His grief showed up as irritation or anger when he wasn’t intensely working on something or with someone. He worked like a madman even under normal circumstances, but these days, he barely came to bed. She shielded her eyes with a hand and looked back at her husband and the sailboat’s owner, an older man with sun-darkened skin and a late-middle paunch. They both displayed toothy grins as they shook hands.
Lisa turned back to the water. A moment later, she heard the pop and rattle of metal caps as beer bottles were cracked open. Tim sat down beside her and pushed a cold Pacifico into her palm. He held his up to indicate a toast and she complied, clinking her bottle to his. He waved the bottle around at the sails and sky and said, “Dani would have loved this.”
“Do you think so?” She said, still unable to picture anything but the back of her daughter’s head running out the front door, always followed by a heart-bruising stab of guilt. “You always understood each other,” she said.
He took a long pull from his beer. “It’s a beautiful day, Lisa. We should enjoy it for her.”
She took a sip and looked up for a moment, breathing in the salty air, aware again that she was wasting a day others would enjoy, that Dani would have enjoyed, but it may as well have been a scene on a tiny screen in a dark room. She was incapable of caring.
“Mitch is a good guy. You should talk to him. He does a lot for charity, especially for children caught up in trafficking.”
Lisa shook her head slightly, “Is that how you met him?”
“No, not specifically,” Tim said, “I met him at the awards ceremony last week, but Dani did come up.”
“Are you using Dani to get work?” Lisa asked.
“Lisa,” Tim said. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Making money is not evil in itself. It takes money to do good things. I’ve always been working for us, and for Dani. . . I’m not going to stop now.”
“I know. Of course,” Lisa said, “I just. . . I want to do something to fix this, something for Dani, but I don’t know what, or how.” She reached out a hand to Tim and he squeezed it.
He looked her in the eyes, “Mitch wants me to do some work for his ad firm up by San Francisco. They’ve got new tech companies popping up all over in need of identities—all kinds of fun projects. He thinks it’s going to boom up there, the biggest boom since gold.”
Lisa felt her brow and nose squeeze together. “San Francisco?”
“Yeah,” said Tim, his tone too bright, “Remember what I told you about Silicon Valley? He’s going to hook me up with some people who need me and I’m going to make their businesses shine.”
“That’s great, Sweetheart. I know you will. So, you’ll be flying up for meetings?”
“I think I’m going to be there a lot more than once in a while. I’m hoping you’ll think about joining me. . . We could get a place.” He smiled.
Lisa slowly turned her gaze to the water.
“Don’t answer now,” he added. “Give it some thought.”
When she looked back at Tim, he was leaning next to her, his back against the rail, facing away from her. She saw him as if he were yards away. The sun lowering, becoming golden, a picture for a coastal magazine. Yards away, or miles away, he was always going, further and further away. She blamed herself for what happened to Dani. But what if he had been not been away working in LA that day? Would they be celebrating a birthday instead of sitting on a stranger’s sailboat letting the wind push them out to sea?
“I think it’s too early,” she said.
“Too early for what?” Tim asked, a little too brusque. He seemed to catch himself, his eyes softening.
“It’s too early to make big decisions,” said Lisa.
“Some decisions aren’t going to wait. If I don’t move on this . . .” Tim stopped, visibly changing tactics. “There is no reason you have to stay here. It’s been eleven years your mother has been gone now. Even your father has moved on. Come to San Francisco. Try it out. See how you like it.”
She tilted her head, considering his handsome face with tender sadness, “You should go ahead, Tim,” she heard herself say, “If you need me, I’ll be here. I love you.”
Her hand vibrated with fear for the future as Tim held it and they stared together for several minutes at the unseen horizon beyond the blue.
The sailboat’s owner climbed out from the cabin and Tim squeezed Lisa’s hand before descending into the cabin himself. Mitch sat down beside Lisa, tilting his own beer bottle in offer of another. She shook her head, letting her mostly empty bottle hang at the end of her limp arm.
“It’s terrible what happened. Your daughter was beautiful,” said Mitch.
Lisa nodded, her eyes welling.
“Tim is doing some pro bono work for my foundation. He’s helping me and I want to do something for your daughter.”
“What’s that?” Lisa couldn’t imagine what this stranger could do for Dani.
He said, “There is a bridge going up in Dehesa Valley. I can pull strings to get that bridge dedicated for her, as a memorial. All I need from you is a few words, something to go on a bronze plaque. If you both agree to it—I’m bringing it up to you, first.”
Lisa continued staring into the waves. “A plaque.” Her voice was flat.
“I know. It isn’t enough,” he said, with more gravitas than she expected. “But it will be there for a very long time. She will be remembered.”
Next
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
11 - Now here, Nowhere
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
When I started working on this chapter last weekend, I didn’t know it would take place on a sailboat, or anywhere in particular. I had already named the chapter “Drift”, but the chapter name sometimes changes before I release the post, as you may or may not have noticed. When I went looking for an image to convey the drift I had in mind, I kept seeing something bobbing in ocean water, deceptively close, yet moving away. Okay, you got me. I was picturing Wilson the volleyball.
Although I mostly consider myself an East County girl, I’ve spent my share of time at the beach and in the bay. Occasionally, my husband and I put in our kayaks and paddle around Coronado. I’m quite at home on the bay, having crossed it in just about every direction on a variety of watercraft over the years. During the late nineties, I paddled many a wall-to-wall as a member of an outrigger canoe team. It was good exercise after a bad horse-accident that messed up my left knee for a while. Hike, hut, ho! If you know.
So, while I didn’t plan to include any scenes on the water when I outlined this novel, it did feel good to have a little ocean spray on my face while writing this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, too.
This chapter was sad but there was a bit of hope at the end. I’m very intrigued about where it will lead!