In the ocean
The coffee was cold. It tasted like iced tea, with no flavor whatsoever. The machine was still running, but it would take at least ten minutes for another cup. If he closed his eyes, he might not open them again, so he drank the coffee in one gulp. He felt sick, put the cup down, and rushed to the bathroom. In the corner of the bathroom, clothes were jumbled in a pile, like a mountain. He leaned over the sink and tried to vomit; nothing came out. He tried again. Still nothing. He looked at the mirror. At 25, gray hair was more than black hair, and he also had black patches beneath his eyes. He wanted to punch the mirror but turned on the tap instead and splashed water onto his face. No towel. Didn’t matter. He went back to the kitchen. Coffee was ready. He filled the cup and took a sip; it was hot, too hot. He felt pain in his tongue. But it was better than cold coffee, he thought. Sitting on the chair, he drank his coffee slowly. The heat was making him awake, not the coffee. But the thoughts were still there—endless, pouring through his mind like a waterfall. One in particular seemed to take over him. He emptied the cup, set it down, and went to his room. He opened the door. The smell was strong; a sour taste filled his mouth. “Forgot to open the windows,” he thought to himself. The room was a mess. The sheet and pillow were lying on the floor, and trash from the food that he ate last night was on the bed, but more was on the floor. He searched everywhere except the table in front of his bed. He searched the top; there were some papers and more trash and leftovers. Bending down, he pulled out the lowest drawer, cable chargers, and some pans. God knows why they were even in here. The middle was empty; only the last one was left. He pulled it. But before it opened, he stopped. Time felt slow; his body didn’t move even a bit. Then his legs started to shake as if his body felt heavy. He wanted to fall on the bed, but he remembered where the keys were. It was in his jeans, in the bathroom. He closed the drawer slowly. He ran to the bathroom and started to search for the jeans; he threw the clothes on the floor. Finally, he found the jeans, and the key was in the left pocket. Turning back, the floor was covered with clothes. He just jumped over it and went outside. Sitting in his car, the first thing he did was look at the fuel; it was half empty but was enough to get him where he was going. An hour later he pulled his car over. He stepped out of the car and looked around. Hearing the sound of the ocean, he moved toward it. Rocks shifted under his feet but eventually gave way to sand. He stopped right before the ocean. His hands were shaking, and so were his legs. He sat down, feeling the warmth of the sand, and he looked at the ocean. Waves striking against the rocks and the sound of birds flying in the sky. A cold and enjoyable wind hit his face, with hot sunlight hitting right on his head. There was something, something telling him to stop. Either it was fear or his last clear thought, but he pushed his thoughts and took a deep breath. And He stood; he was slightly shaking but not so badly as before. He placed his glasses on the sand. Looking back to the ocean waves, he moved closer. One step and then the next; after a moment, he was in the water, and he moved on. The water rose to his ankles; now, he felt water through his clothes. It was cold. Another step, water was on his knees. His body trembled—this time from the cold. He moved finally; water reached his waist. He stopped and looked back to the shore. Now waves are pushing him to the land, but he moved back to where he stood instantly. He looked back to the ocean, another step and another; now water was touching his neck. His face was looking at the sky. One more step, and now he was under the water. He opened his eyes. Bubbles drifted past his face. For a moment, his body fought. Then he stopped and closed his eyes. And... let go... giving up on himself. Silence. Then—the smell of the hot coffee. Voices. Loud. Distant.
Shit coffee didn’t help.
As he knew he was falling asleep.
“I’m telling you it won’t work out; you and I are totally different people. Hey, are you listening?” a gentle voice asked him. It was like a song to his heart before, but now it only triggers nightmares. He looked around, although he knew where he was.
But why?
he thought.
Can a person fall asleep underwater?
It feels possible. “For the last time,” he said to himself. He can bear this one, and hopefully, he will be dead before the dream reaches its end. He looked around one more time; it was a small coffee shop that they used to go to a lot.
“Hey, are you listening?” said the same voice. It got on his nerves. “When I’m speaking, you space out.”
He looked at her. He could feel his heart rate; it was like the first time meeting her. Her eyes were like a black hole, dark but so shiny that if you look at them, you get blinded. Her lips were red and small; they looked like tiny flowers. As she spoke, her lips trembled; it happened when she was angry or afraid. His true love and wife, Sofia—he felt love in her presence, but he felt more hatred, not toward her. Their marriage was fine, nothing to brag about, but it was peaceful most of the time. Whenever he was with her, he felt complete. But in a month or two, things changed; she was angry about everything or cried suddenly for no reason, and back then, he didn’t know why.
“Hey, are you all right, Bill? Your face looks white as hell,” she asked.
Looking worried, she moved her seat a bit and touched his forehead. Her hand was warm. He looked at her, at those black eyes and now-smiling lips. She was beautiful—too beautiful. She gave meaning to his life, but he—he pulled himself back.
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice cold.
She sat back in her seat; the smile was gone from her face. Taking a sip ofcoffee, she started speaking. The whole time, her eyes did not meet his untilshe finished talking.
“I think I live with my parents a bit. ” No reply. “And also, I have athing that I have to think about. Alone,” she said.
She took more sips of coffee; he knew everything that she would say. He didn’twant to hear it over again. He looked around and saw a waitress. In 50 seconds,with coffee in her hand, she falls behind him, and she gets a burn. The cafegets crowded, and Sofia starts to walk toward the door, and he follows herevery single time. 5 seconds now. Why am I even here? He wondered; he almostforgot that he was drowning. 1 second. Suddenly he felt a pain. It felt likeburning in his hand; drops of hot coffee were moving through his skin. Hedidn’t know why. But he saved the waitress. It never happened before, but hecould think properly as he felt the pain in his hand.
“Are you all right?” Sofia said.
“Where were you looking?” she yelled to the waitress while holding his hand.She pulled up his sleeve and touched his hand. It was a gentle touch, but ithurt. She closed her eyes as if she felt the same pain, and she pulled herchair next to him. Not looking at the apologizing waitress, she sits next tohim and holds his hand again.
“It’s nothing,” he said to the waitress. “It is nothing,” he saidagain, now looking at Sofia.
“I’ll bring some ice,” the waitress said.
“No,” said Sofia; her voice sounded stiff. “Cold water and abandage.”
The waitress nodded and went to the kitchen.They sat, not looking at each other.
“Why would you do that?” she said. Her voice sounded broken, as if she werecrying.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
It was true. He didn’t know why. Why the dreamchanged after 3 years. He was so confused. The waitress brought cold water anda bandage. Sofia took the water and washed his hands. It hurt, but he didn’tshow it. She wrapped his hand with the bandage. He looked at her while she satholding his hands.
“Don’t do this. Ever again, okay?” she said.
He nodded. They said nothing untilthe ringing phone broke the silence.She rose to her feet and moved to the door. But she didn’t exit; she justtalked in the doorway. She looked worriedly at him as she spoke on the phone.
“Sorry, I have to go,” she said. “My mom is waiting at the trainstation.” He said nothing and just looked down in thought.
She started moving toward the door. He followed her; now it was the same asalways. Almost everything went like before; they walked, talking about how longshe would be gone, which was 2 weeks. And he has to watch over her cat, Tofu.He was a white cat with a king-like attitude, but he liked Tofu. But when hewent home, he couldn’t find the cat. He was gone and never came back. When theyreached the traffic, his heart sank. He wanted to turn and run, but he couldn’t.
“I have to go now,” she said.
The train station was just across the road.She stretched; she was standing on her toes. She was way shorter than he. Hebowed a little, and she gave him a kiss on his cheek. That also never happenedbefore. When he was trying to stand back, she whispered in his ear. He couldn’tunderstand what she said. At that moment, the train was arriving, and it letout a loud signal. He looked confused. She smiled as if she expected thatreaction.
“Wait, what?” he said.
She giggled and ran to the other side.
“See ya, four eyes,” she shouted.
“Wait,” he shouted back.
She didn’t. The traffic light was glowingred. But one car was moving fast. He heard the roaring engine of the blueMustang. It moved through the cars and did not stop. He heard shouting. Peopleare calling for help, and someone is telling him to call 911. He stood there.Frozen. Not the first time. The 1198th. In the middle of the road—laid herbody. Too still. Blood spreading beneath her head. Her face is losing color. Hislegs moved at once. Heavy. But now he could move them.
“Sofi,” he yelled.
He ran as fast as he could.But then he opened his eyes. He threw up, but it was only salty water. He waslying on the beach. Waves dragged him onto the land. It hurt in his soul, butmore than that, it hurt physically. He felt pain in his hand. Looking at hishand, he saw a bandage, soggy but somehow looking new. He removed it, and hisface showed his confusion. There was a burn on his hand.
