It was a kind of security to feel the sand against my knees and my shins. Gentle waves lifted me up off my knees then dropped me softly, up again for a moment then dropped back onto the sand. Comfort was comforted in that ancient eternal rhythm. Untold millions of tiny clams wriggled against my toes where they pressed into the sand together. Yes, I reminded myself when I felt them, I needed to come back. If I could trust myself to remember. Everything was so confused. But seed clams could mean food. Was worth trying to bring them back to my nest, my tide pool.
Couldn’t think about food any more now. All my focus was on that fire. I was alone and savagely fascinated by the twisting flames. This was the first new light I had seen in a very long time. In weeks. Perhaps months. It was the third night I’d spent here, watching. Hidden in the dark water. There were 10 people, maybe more – sitting, relaxing, talking in the shadows not far from the fire.
A taste of bitter jealousy. They were normal. What I once thought I was. I hated them for their ease, for the camaraderie.
Eyes moved to the fire. One man sat alone. I was strangely drawn to the look of him there thinking as he gazed so deeply into the flames themselves. He was older than the rest, broad in shoulders and chest, hair going to salt and pepper, eyes shaded, skin darkened by the sun, hair and beard trimmed, but somewhat ragged. From time to time one of the younger group would approach the fire. He’d lift his dark eyes – studying them. Neither would speak. Soon enough he’d be left entirely to his thoughts again.
There was one voice I could hear above the whoosh of the surf. The sound of it was thin, light, happy. It belonged to a young man. He was tall, sandy-haired and spare; probably because he was never ever was still. Excited, he went from person to person talking constantly, but the words were too indistinct to understand.
My breath was loud in my ears. My heart was fast and loud. I could neither stand to move, nor endure inaction.
Finally, cold pushed me into decision. I stood on knees jellied by the chill and the waves. I checked that my bag was over my shoulder and my stick in my hand. It was a reflex. Couldn’t put them down anywhere, not even for a minute or I’d lose them. The bag was still heavy with shellfish and my two tool rocks. Good! Hiked it up on my shoulder farther and stepped out of the water. Then the scent hit me! A wave of memory! Burning wood and roasting duck! I fell to my knees as tears filled my eyes…remembering happy evenings, family meals, the taste of charcoal cooked dinners, the warmth of a fire on my face with the chilly night at my back – joys I’d taken for granted before. Before.
Before WHAT, exactly?
Well, before I lost my mind, I admitted.
My head snapped up when I heard the traffic. Bright sun heated the concrete under my hands and knees. When I stood the sidewalk was hard and sandy under my bare feet. It was a busy afternoon rush with people hurrying home and the roar of constant traffic all around me. I turned one way, then the other looking for the intersection, needing to cross the street. Why? Why was it so important to cross? Oh! DAMMIT! I had forgotten, again. Then I it came to me in a rush…the smell of that fire held me in thrall still. The cement burned the soles of my bare feet when I began to run along the thoroughfare – aimlessly. Was I going in a straight line? I had no idea – probably I was turning back and back and back to the same spot. Enough! I told myself – and faced the curb. I had to cross – I could still smell the fire on the far side!
I hated hot sunny days like this, they were the worst. Something about the bright light made thinking worse. I knew it was night, I was fairly sure I was on the beach. Or was it day and I thought it was night. I had to admit that my thinking it made it more likely I was wrong. How could I decide? I stopped walking and tried to think. No answer occurred to me.
Oh what the hell! I closed my eyes tight and just stepped off the curb.
“Hey, hiya! C’mon up and hang out with us, why doncha?”
I SCREAMED! Not the blaring horns I was expecting … Instead that high, excited voice echoed in my head. My eyes FLEW open into a friendly and curious pair of bright blues. I wrapped my arm over my bag and held TIGHT to my stick – the only realities I could count on.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m just Rad, Ma’am. They are waiting for you up there, aren’t they?” his head tilted toward the group near the fire.
“Waiting?”
“Sure, been there all day! We’ve been talking about baseball. I’m ‘splainin how Pete Rose was the best EVER.”
It was already night again. I said nothing … it wasn’t going to help for him to realize I was sick-brained. I just followed him up the sand. There were goose bumps on my arms – I decided it must be as cold as it seemed.
Rad let the way to the group sitting in the sand. Introductions –
“This is Jen and Dave, and Sharna and — and… Y’all need to meet, umm….who?” he said, looking at me quizzically. “Coolies, y’all, meet Pretty Mama. She just swam in tonight!”
The conversation went on around us almost as if I’d not arrived. Only one or two of them nodded a greeting, none seemed very curious. I knew a few things about baseball, being the mother of three boys, but frankly it was not important to me now so I ignored most of the conversation. I stood there, looking around the group, every bit the outsider. Not so very different from the two nights I had spent floating in the shallows and watching.
Rad stood staring at me a while then announced, “Hey there Pretty Mama – you are Real arncha? I’m Real, too, ya know!”
He suddenly reached out and wrapped arms around me. I froze – shocked! But he felt warm, smelled of sun, salt water and sweat. Utterly Real, just as he said. I leaned into him – soaking it in.
“Geez, Pretty Mama – you are naked, didja know that?”
I pulled back, and stared at him. Then at myself. “Well, I remember having a shirt and pants, but I lost them. Used my jacket to make the bag.” I patted the bag, reflex again, to make sure it was still there.
Rad grabbed my hand like a little boy. “You needta meet Kap.” Pulled me across the sand to the fire. “Heya Kap dude – this Pretty Mama is Real!”
The older man looked up at me, clearly suspicious. He started silently with eyes more gold than brown. They seemed to look through me, waiting for me to disappear. Then he nodded and made a little motion.
“Well, offer your friend a seat, Rad. Ask if she needs anything.”
Rad talked nonstop. He commented on everything, asked a hundred questions without waiting for an answer. In one quiet pause when he went back to the rest to discuss baseball…
“I, umm, have some clams. Do you mind if I put them by the fire? I haven’t been able to cook. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt warm inside.”
Those dark gold eyes looked up again, silently. Still staring, still strangely curious. This time I was surveyed from head to toe…well, and everything in between. I blushed, and the sensation of heat in my skin was a secret sort of pleasure.
“Safer to let Rad do that,” the man said softly. Then he turned and called the younger man over.
I tried to help, but Rad’s voice got tighter and tighter with fear every time I interfered, “Pretty Mama, let me DO it, ‘kay? Everyone hurts themselfs with the fire, ‘cept Rad. Gots to let Rad cook!” It seemed best not to make him any more nervous, so I sat in the sand and watched. Rad’s hands were never still. He’d touch something three or four times before picking it up. Fingers touched a rock, then a light flick to each clam as it warmed up, then over to the small pile of wood, then back to the cooking rock…on and on. It was an hypnotic cycle of motion. And talk! About everything and nothing. I stopped even trying to keep up with it all.
Finally the older man spoke again, “Let it alone, Rad. Go get her water for the sake of my sanity! Get extra for washing, too.”
The moment Rad was gone the others came closer. Still talking; over my head in their calm pleasant tones. Kap turned to the flames, never looked up, never moved. I tried to relax, but Kap was so obviously angry I was there it was unsettling. I didn’t look at him, stared into the fire, myself. The others returned to their blankets in the sand and their voices faded to a murmur.
“Good work, Real Girl! You got rid of them quite well.”
I jumped with surprise when he spoke directly to me for the first time. I looked over, and again those strange eyes surveyed me. Not even a hint of a smile, but less distant somehow.
A slow nod. Finally a slow slow smile. “Get Rad to help you with a shower when he gets back. You’ll feel more human.”
“Nah, Kap – let ‘er eat first! I c’n smell the clams already.” Rad returned – talking still. When he mentioned the clams I realized I could smell them, too. I reached to take one.
“DON’T DO THAT!” The bark was as much concern as command. I pulled my hand back instantly.
“Yea, what Kap said, I got ‘em for ya, Pretty Mama!” Rad started his nervous touching routine again. I had to look away, it was so strange to watch. A moment later Rad put a tangle of seaweed in my lap. On it were the clams, steamed open and smelling so good my stomach rolled with desire for them. I closed my eyes and ate one after another after another. Pure Bliss! I didn’t bother thinking, I knew I’d never be able to remember the last warm food I’d eaten. Clams were sweet and good and filled me up without making me sick when I smashed them between my work stones, but they were a sensual heaven cooked and fragrant in that seaweed.
Only when they were all finished off did I look up. Rad was already gone, talking with the others, but Kap – Kap was watching my every move. His posture had changed, his focus no longer on the fire, but on me. The intensity of it was like a touch … fear without threat.
His voice was soft, “Remind Rad about the soap, he tends to forget.”
I turned away but smiled and whispered back, “Maybe you need to do that, I forget, too.” I looked into his face for a reaction to my admission. All he did was nod in the direction Rad had taken.
I stood and looked for Rad. The young man came running back, “Pretty Mama, don’t get lost. Rad’s here. Lets do yer shower. Kap, I gots the soap! I didn’t forget this time!” He led me a short distance away and with deft hands washed and rinsed and washed and rinsed. The soap he brought with him in half a clam shell smelled like the marshes, but worked up a decent lather – and he did the task without innuendo. It was easy to stand with eyes closed and let him work. When he finished he stood behind me – and was suddenly silent. My skin was tingling from washing and cold water. I checked that I still held my bag and stick.
“Ruh Roh! You got some LOCKS here…gotta scalp ya” Little tugs now…. the sound of hair being sliced. Then soap and firm massage on my scalp. The sensory shock of it brought me back awake. A low HUM, ‘Pretty Mama!’”
I laughed – turned to smile at him. Hands went to my head. All the hair was short, like a girl’s. I felt lighter and free!
“Better get you back to the fire. Got people to see, yanno. They don’t know nuthin about Pete Rose yet!”
Rad took my hand and led me back to the fire then turned back to other friends and their baseball discussion. I sat, checked that my bag was still with me, and had no idea what to say to the silent man across the fire. While we’d been gone he’d pulled a blanket-thing around himself. Other than that it seemed he’d barely moved at all. He frankly made me nervous with the way he watched the blaze. I couldn’t stand the silence. Several times I almost spoke, but didn’t. I looked into the light, then closed my eyes and felt the flicker of it behind my eyelids.
“So, you are real, then.”
I looked up in surprise at the statement. Nodded.
He opened arms and the blanket, “Come stay warm with me then, Real Girl.”
My response was a quick flame in cheeks and tummy. Curiously embarrassed. Only a flash of indecision before I moved to him. Bag and stick were set aside without a thought. His rough hands settled me between his drawn up knees, my back to his chest, my head against his shoulder. Then arms and warmth engulfed me. A deep sigh of nostalgia slipped from my lips.
“Has it been so bad?”
“ye gods Yes.”
“Tell me your story, let go of it.”
“You don’t want to know, Kap”
“Oh yes, I do. Tell everything.”
“I don’t know exactly how to start….
It’s been a long time since I started losing my grip. As first I just couldn’t find things. I’d park the van and when I’d go back to get it there’d be nothing there. There’d be a ham sandwich in my hand when I’d reach for a spoon. Just annoying mistakes, mostly. I was afraid to tell anybody about it because I was sure that I’d end up in some psych ward … or worse. It just kept falling apart more – I’d be watching TV while washing dishes – and every time I’d look up it would be to a different show. I thought I was developing ADHD or whatever that was. Whole hours would pass and I’d feel like it was one second. Or the reverse – I’d do an entire day’s work in three minutes. I think it was some weird dissociative disorder. After a while, I couldn’t recognize my own family any more. People I didn’t know would show up for breakfast – talk to me like they knew me – remind me of things we did yesterday that I didn’t remember doing.
I knew I was crazy. But I was getting by.
Then one day…. ultimately ‘IT’ happened.”
I could only shudder at the memory, but I felt him behind me, holding me…listening like I was not talking crazy. Even though I knew I was.
“The day came when I went out to run a simple errand – getting milk or something – but couldn’t find my way home. For hours I walked around and around looking up one way and down the other – something would look familiar but by the time I got close, it never turned out to be what I thought. I hung around streets. Asked everyone who’d talk to me for directions to 22 Sea Lane. Sometimes they’d tell me – I’d be sure I understood, would even write it down when I could – no help.
I have money, or used to have before it was too much trouble to keep track of it. I’d go into a store and not be able to read the packages. Not my eyes exactly, something wrong in my head. If I picked up Peanut Butter it would turn out to be laundry detergent or a raw trout. And all the fresh things would get rotten or moldy in my hands. I had to give up.”
I turned a bit to look up into his shadowed eyes. He almost smiled. Nodding for me to go on. Strange how I could remember the past so clearly sitting there with him when it was usually just a blur. I was remembering things I hadn’t dared think about.
“One day I was sure I’d found my own house. I was SURE, really sure. Stood there for the longest time. Counted the windows. Saw the mark where Tom ran into the corner with his wagon and broke the molding. Stared at the row of handprints in the ‘new’ concrete we’d put on the driveway about 5 years ago – Joe – Dave – Tom – Mom – Dad – all in a row. It was my house I was sure of it. But with every step I took closer to the door the noise in my head would get louder, more frenetic! I couldn’t see. I had to sit down or fall down. Everything went crazy. I never did go in.”
I quieted, struggled to hold back the tears. No, I’d not gone into my house, but then, neither had anyone else. If only they’d come home! I know Doug would have helped me! Or, well, yes, maybe not made me feel better about myself, but he’d have organized the arrangements in his business-like way. It would have been enough; I’d have MADE it be enough.
“Don’t give up now, Real Girl, finish the story.” His arms wrapped me closer and only then did I realize he was as naked as I was myself. I could feel every hair on his chest. I could hear his breathing. Our heartbeats matched rhythm. The night seemed to have turned clear and quiet. Every star shone with a separate crystal light. There had not been such a night in as long as I dared remember. His silence urged me to finish.
“The beach had always been my special place all my life. So I retreated to the sand and the water. In my tide pool, under the bridge, I could think. In the water the noise didn’t distract me so much. Nobody pestered me. Anyone who passed by ignored me. Probably for fear I was contagious! It’s ok, though, I know how they felt; I have felt the same around unbalanced people, too.
Before.
Before I was one of the crazies myself.
I couldn’t be mad at them for ignoring me.
Little by little I couldn’t see the lights any more. Didn’t notice traffic. Couldn’t hear the kids on the streets. Couldn’t hear the lifeguards’ whistles. I knew I had to give up wanting to be normal and just get on with surviving.
You do realize that I’m some kind of nutjob, don’t you?”
The rumble of his laugh shivered up my spine. “So, you think you are insane? Would you like me to prove to you that you are perfectly sane, Real Girl?”
“How can you prove a lie?” I answered, resigned to my mental illness, whatever it was.
“Will you do what I tell you?” he asked.
A bit hesitant, “OK, what?”
“Look over there. You see the rest? With Rad?”
I looked, but the firelight kept shifting. “Not really, I can see Rad, but it’s too dark to see the rest.”
“Of course it is. We’ll work on seeing them in a minute. Take this,” he pressed something into my hand, “it is a little stone. Can you feel it? Feel it’s a stone?”
“I’m not sure.” I could sense it in my hand. But nothing was right any more. It could just as easily be a pencil, or a Kleenex. I shook my head. “If you say it’s a stone, OK, but I’m not sure.”
“Close your eyes. Lean back against me and stroke it. Believe it. It’s a stone, right?”
“Yes, it is a stone.” I could feel the shape and the smooth surface of a sea stone.
“Now, how good is your arm? Throw like a girl, do you?” He snickered faintly.
“I certainly do NOT, I’ll have you know! I have three boys, and I’ve chucked footballs, beach balls, soft balls, Nerf balls, tennis balls and Wiffle balls for 14 years!”
“That’s the spirit! See that rock?” He pointed to one at the edge of the jetty. “Hit it!”
It was close, an easy lob. The little stone rattled across the face of the rock. I turned to smiled smugly at him.
“Straight arm there! Now, I’m going to give you two more stones. Get up, and throw one of them at Rad, one at the person to his right. One right after the other.”
Two more stones were pressed into my hand. I stood, and in a few seconds my eyes got used to the darkness and I threw, two quick flicks of the wrist. The first hit Rad squarely on the shoulder. I heard the THUNK. Rad turned and came toward me with a big smile. The second must have missed. A plop in the soft sand, but no reaction from the dark haired man. He never even turned his head.
Another stone was pressed into my hand. “Try again, Real Girl, direct hit this time!” The noises in my head were throbbing louder by the second and I had to struggle to handle the stone in my fingers. But I did – took aim and shot it the few feet through the darkness. Again I missed. By now Rad was standing beside me.
“You can’t hit them, yanno,” he said.
I was tugged back under the blanket. I gasped, startled! Back to the warm haven against Kap’s chest. Arms and blanket pulled me close. “Tell her why Rad?”
“Well, sheesh, Kap, I keeps telling you, they ain’t real! Can’t hit — ‘cept Reals.”
As I warmed up again, I could see the stars, and smell the fire, the noises in my head faded. “Reals?” I asked.
“Pretty Mama, some’s Reals, like you’n’me’n’Kap. ‘Specially Kap, he’s the real-est Real of all! But like, the rest, they’re not – like – real.”
“What Rad is attempting to tell you, is that they aren’t actually there. They are illusions, quite unreal. Almost everything I see around me these days is a trick, I’ve found. Like you, I cannot tell the difference – but lucky for me my friend Rad can.”
“Ghosts? That’s outrageous!”
“Is it? Is it so much easier to believe that you have lost your mind? If you had, how would you know it? If you had, how would you have survived this long alone on the beach?”
“Who? How? No, it can’t be.” I couldn’t believe such a preposterous thing.
“Need another test, do you? OK, Rad, please take her hand – take her over to shake hands with one of our companions.”
“But Kap you can’t…”
“JUST do it, Rad, and do not let go of her, we might lose her again.”
“But…”
“Rad!”
“Yeasureok!”
We crossed the sand together. Rad tugged me close to him, “Here’s better for walking.”
When we joined the other group they were talking about browned butter or horseradish of all things. Rad broke into the conversations with “Here, shake hands with ma Pretty Mama, will ya?” Nobody looked up. Rad stretched out with our joined hands to the young woman closest to us.
I saw our hands go straight through her wrist – felt nothing. I gasped and tried to pull away but he held on tight. “Kap said hold onto ya!”
Again he stretched out our hands, this time to her shoulder. Right through, like she was just a mist! It wasn’t cold; it was nothing at all! I had to stifle a cry. I twisted away from him and tried to run, instantly stumbled and fell HARD into a gully in the sand. I stood again and was surrounded by people, all staring at me, accusingly. I spun this way and that – wildly – nothing but faces. I put out my hands to push through the throng that parted as I ran again, this time for the water – the only place I could ever think.
“Sheesh, Pretty Mama, Kap’ll be MAD if I lose you!” he picked me up bodily. I just hid my face in his neck. Warm arms and the heavy blanket wrapped me again.
“Are you ok?”
With a shudder, I nodded. I looked up…. and he, at least, was the same – warm and corporeal. “Where do they come from?”
“I have no idea. But Rad does…Show her, Rad?”
“I gots to?” The younger man sighed then took my stick and drew an ‘x’ in the sand. Then drew another to make an asterisk. Then a many-pointed star. Then more ‘arms’ another after another after another. He started to become agitated, making little angry noises as the stick dug into the sand again and again.
“Rad, STOP! NOW!”
He dropped the stick and kicked away the ‘picture’ with his foot then rushed into the darkness still obviously upset.
“What was that?” I asked Kap softly.
“I have no idea. Rad can’t TELL me, yet.”
“Is everything a lie? Has it always been? Have I never been sane?”
“I have no idea, Real Girl. You have always been sane, I suspect, too sane.”
Inexplicably I began to cry. All the loneliness and misery came pouring out in sobs that seemed endless. He said nothing, didn’t even move to comfort me. I think he knew there was no comfort. As the night faded to quiet I slept, unknowing, wrapped in that blanket. Warm, really warm, for the first night in a very long time.