Cristelle Comby - Alone Together

“Well, there you go, Father,” I muttered to the emptiness. “Right all along. You happy now?”

Tears mingled with raindrops as I walked back down to the cove. The pebbles creaked and rolled on their sides as they slipped under my shoes. I kept walking into the ocean, intent on not letting anything stop me. I’d never had the courage to do anything that mattered. But I did now… I had the courage to end it all. That would have to be enough.

The water lapping at my legs was freezing, same as ever. But I pushed the thought away as I kept going. I didn’t slow when it reached my shoulders, didn’t stop when the next wave submerged me. I had no strength left in me to stay alive. The ocean was all too happy to swallow me whole.

It would be my blasted luck that the island had other plans for me.

Currents were pushing me back to the starting point. Strong and relentless, like an invisible hand determined not to let me succeed in my endeavour. They rolled me backwards, spinning me like an out-of-control Ferris wheel.

Rock formations attempted to block my path but the waves didn’t stop on their account. They kept pushing me further and further until they could toss me over the rocks. My arms, legs, and back scraped and scabbed against the sharp edges. I tried screaming, but the water swallowed the sound just as it’d swallowed me. And it kept on pushing.

The cold northern winds hit me hard in the face when I broke the surface, carrying me the last couple of feet to the shore. Tears mingled with the water running down my cheeks. Blood and salted drops dripped on the cove’s pebbles. I looked up to see I’d landed a couple of feet left of where I’d gone into the water.

Spent, I lay there on the pebble-covered ground, rocked by the receding tide. Cold water ran up my legs, coming to the small of my back. Christ, but I felt miserable. More miserable than I’d ever felt in my life. Now I truly had failed at everything.

As I tried to breathe, I noticed rays of sunlight coming in through the clouds hanging low in the sky. One hit me in the face until a shadow came between me and it. I cowered in fear, my reaction instinctive. It was the shadow of a very familiar man, built like me—or maybe it was me that was built like him. Tall and lanky, grey hair and cold eyes. Them eyes were a pale shade of blue, like winter’s mist. They narrowed as my father looked down on me with a mix of disdain and contempt.

“Go away,” I muttered into the pebbles before he had time to open his mouth and tell me how much of a disappointment I was.

The pebbles crept under his feet as he came closer. The stench of his cologne mixed with single malt Bowmore engulfed me.

“You’re not worthy of my name,” he said, Scotland ringing out loudly with every vowel.

If I’d had the strength, I would have recoiled from the words. As it was, I just lay there, unable to move. Unable to defend myself, even though a part of me knew he wasn’t here. Hallucination or not, the ball of lead that’d settled in the pit of my stomach felt real enough. How weak and pathetic was I? Maybe Daddy Dearest was right. Anne-Marie certainly would laugh if she could see me. I bet she’d never let anyone talk to her that way. Naw , that lass’d fight back, tooth and nail like an unhinged harpy.

Anne-Marie… Thinking of her uncoiled something within me, making me take a deeper breath. This time, I only smelled the aromatic ocean spray in the air. Smart, resourceful Anne-Marie, who’d taught me how to fish and cook. Funny, aloof Anne-Marie, who never understood a word I said but always got the message anyway. Strong, wilful Anne-Marie, who kept on going, no matter what this island had to throw at her.

Words danced near the tip of my tongue, a sentence that I’d never had the courage to say aloud. A statement that I’d thought of millions of times, but had yet to pass my lips… until then.

“I hate you,” I muttered to the shadow that sunshine was starting to pierce through. There was no answer, just the gentle caress of the wind. Blood kept mingling with sea water while the last of my strength ebbed out with the tide. I forced whatever power I had left into my voice and screamed to the sky, God and anyone else who was listening my final declaration. “I hate you!”

Rain was pouring down on the island, hard and fast. I watched as puddles started forming in the sand in front of our shelter… my shelter.

Not for the first time, I wondered what Killian was up to, if he was alright. I hoped so.

Two truths and a lie… Annoying as he was, I missed him. I was glad for the rain that made it easier to fight the impulse to get off my backside and go look for him. I never wanted to see him again.

I felt my lips curl up in the beginning of a smile at that joke. Renewed worry smothered that burgeoning spark of humour before I had the time to chuckle. I ought to have berated myself for that, but reproachfulness was another feeling I couldn’t muster.

Life was hard and cruel. I only had to look around if I needed a handy reminder. But… life wasn’t meant to be lived alone, was it? I knew I shouldn’t feel that way, but I was too soft for my own good. I could never hold onto a grudge, everyone would say. I ‘forgave too easily’ they would mutter with more than a little despair. But there was a part of me that held onto the belief that there was something good in everyone. One only had to look deep enough.

If only Killian had let me.

If only I hadn’t let him go.

When the rain broke in mid-morning, I zipped up the winter jacket I’d put on to fend off the cold winds that had picked up. Intent on going out for a morning run, I left the safety of the shelter to move out on the shore. There was a surprise waiting for me there. It froze the air in my lungs and made my heart skip a beat.

I stopped at the edge of the sand, paralyzed on the spot as my eyes made out a familiar silhouette clad in jeans and windbreaker. I felt a smile creep upon my face, my feet walking towards the shape of their own accord. They started moving at a quicker pace, carrying me to Killian, not slowing down until I was within reaching distance.

My friend was back—or rather, the ghost of him was. Up close, I could see how miserable he looked. Sickly, thin, older and undeniably frail. At some point after he left, he’d stopped attempting to shave, but the messy, grey beard wasn’t enough to hide the hollow cheeks and dried skin beneath.

My arms were around him before my brain had time to form the thought. It wasn’t a surprise that he hugged me back. Just like that, I couldn’t remember what we’d even fought about. Whatever it was, it must not have been that important.

Long minutes later, I let go of him far enough to force him inside the shelter. He was shaking hard. Whether from the cold or something else, I didn’t ask. I reached for a blanket and placed it around his shoulders. He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

I could see that a lot must have happened during our time apart. A part of me was curious to know more about that, but I didn’t have the words to ask, and perhaps now wasn’t the time anyway. I reached for one of his hands instead, half expecting that he would pull back, snort or do something else derisive.

He did none of these things. His trembling, cold fingers curved around mine as he returned the gesture. The grip with which he held it was tight. Though his words were lost on me, there were tears in his eyes as he spoke. Their meaning was clear enough.