His Note

I wear a sweater today. The kind that’s knitted tightly with cream wool and falls down to the knees and well past my wrists. Perhaps I am hiding something under these sleeves. Perhaps I am masking the damaged skin that puckers when it scars or the calluses on my fingers. Perhaps there is a ring on my third finger that I prefer not to show, or a decrepit black notebook in my arms.

Maybe it is just that it's not quite autumn, before the summer’s heat has blown away and before the trees cry in the cold. Or maybe they feel a shift in the wind, a twitch of the Earth, a wound in the sun. But as the florist hands me a bouquet of white roses, a pink ribbon fastened around their stems, her wide eyes tell me she’s sorry, sorry for whatever haunts me.

I smile at her, because it’s okay. It’s okay.

I’m going to the ocean today. I’m going to see my family.

I wore a sweater that day too.

I’d stood on the shore, letting the gentle waves lap at my toes, when I saw a peculiar black notebook lying alone in the sand. It was just out of reach of the ocean’s grasp, as if it had washed up during high tide or someone had left it there and forgotten. Curious, I waded closer and carefully peeled open the damp, leather cover. A letter was inscribed on the very first page in black ink, “To whomever this may concern: I have left my life savings within this notebook. If you are reading this, then what you find within these pages is your treasure to keep.”

My fingers trembled as the message sunk in, and even more so as dollar bills escaped the bindings and drifted to the sand. I flipped through and there was more and more, thousands of dollars tucked tightly within this black notebook. My mind was like static; I had to bring it to the authorities. I couldn’t just keep this. But then…that message was haunting.

And so I wore a sweater.

One that was pink knit and matched Maggie’s, because she’d wanted to be the best-looking pair on the cruise I’d booked with the notebook. Not that I could even compare, as when she looked at me, her gummy grin was the brightest thing out there. Her golden head bounced when she giggled. A sound I could only imagine. A sound I wished I could hear. But instead, she grabbed a napkin with her little fingers and drew a picture of the boat. And dolphins swimming alongside it. And a note that read, “I want to dance with the dolphins, Daddy.”

So I took her to the bow of the ship, where she could put her hands on the rail and look for mermaids following us on our journey. She pointed and jumped when she found the dolphins surfacing, arching like rainbows, a duet, a waltz. Davie bowed to her, offering his arm and kissing her hand like a prince she’d seen in movies. With a twirl, her skirt spun, and I watched Maggie’s laugh grow as she stepped on my husband’s shoes, dancing together, swaying to the music in their heads.

Chocolate was Maggie’s favorite. So when she saw the crew, skipping towards her with a large chocolate cake topped with rainbow sprinkles, she clapped her hands and I could tell her heart soared. They sang her a song, a “hooray, you made it another year!” You made it another year. I could only watch their mouths move, the flames framed in her brown eyes, the blush that showered her cheeks when she puckered her lips to blow.

Make a wish. Make a wish, Darling.

She bounced in her chair as she scribbled a note on a napkin. “I wished for you to hear me.”

A warmth trickled down my arms like syrup, candied with a bite on my lip. Davie passed me a knowing glance, like he was going to tell her that As much as he would like to, Daddy is forever Deaf. Instead, I planted a kiss on the top of her head and passed her a note that read, simply, “Thank you.”

Maggie loved the little cabin on the ship. Everything was accented with blue - like the ocean, she pointed out. And her favorite thing to do was plant her hands on the enormous window overlooking the sea, pressing her nose to the glass, as though if she pressed hard enough, she could be a part of the waves too.

After an evening of sugar and games, I revealed a pink, sparkly bag with explosions of rainbow tissue paper. She tore it apart, arms moving with all the speed of a hummingbird. Inside, a doll with a face that matched her own and a note that read, “Happy Birthday, Darling.”

The doll, a little you to carry around.

So you’ll always have a friend to talk to.

And then her head drooped and her lashes fluttered and she stretched her arms into the air. Davie lifted her like a princess and tucked her in tight. Then, he grinned at me and signed, “You coming to bed?”

He passed me a note of his own, and I tucked it into the little black notebook now filled with all my letters. Afterwards, a kiss, arms around shoulders and backs. Warmth. I wanted to hold onto it forever. The steadiness of his fingers and the rhythm of our heartbeats together. Everything I ever wanted. Right there, the three of us. Nothing but home.

And then a flash of lightning. When Davie heard the thunder, he bolted upwards and shook my shoulder. The cabin trembled. We reached for Maggie, who had begun to cry. We were surrounded by darkness, the warmth washed away with angry clouds and cackling wind. The rain cast a curtain so thick I could barely see much beyond the deck. But the waves grew like mountains upon mountains, battling for dominance, fighting against the ship. We were knocked backwards; I held onto Maggie with everything I had.

Davie took my arm and we raced out of the cabin, joining passengers scrambling through the narrow corridor, blinking sleep out of their eyes. People shouted to one another, perhaps passing orders, sharing concerns. I was lost, helpless, unable to read their lips or follow their commands. I couldn’t feel anything but the unsteady rocking of the ship, the weightlessness of our bodies. And then there was Davie’s hand in mine and Maggie’s head against my chest. She wrapped her arms around me, eyes squeezed shut.

I still felt her touch as the deck began to flood, as coldness filled my shoes and wrapped around my ankles. I still felt Davie’s hand as my arm heaved, as the waves claimed him as their own. I reached desperately for him, my clenched fingers grasping nothing. The air escaped my lungs as I pulled Maggie inward, clutching her in my arms like that was my sole purpose in life.

But the ocean spared me, and took her instead.

And then there was nothing. Nothing but a numbness in my heart befriending my purple lips. Water around my neck, tugging, squeezing, strangling. Hands on my arms and shoulders, pulling me in. Pulling me away from my family, pulling me away from the heart that was lost somewhere in those wretched waves, pulling me from everything I was and everything I wished I could hold onto forever.

Forever.

I stand on the shore, staring into the body of the world that took my world from me. Many have reminisced on the sweet, calming melody that the ocean sings. I hear nothing. I can only see its enraged power, its chains around the ghosts of everyone I love.

The little black notebook is heavy in my hands. I nest dollar bills inside its worn pages, the money I had saved but have no use for. Perhaps someone else will walk along the shore and find it, the letter still penned cleanly inside. “...What you find within these pages is your treasure to keep…”

I slip off my shoes, letting the waves hug my legs. It is my choice now. My choice.

In my mind, I can see Davie’s smile, the dimples that it forms. And I can imagine Maggie’s laugh, perhaps like the sweetness of chocolate or the playfulness of a dolphin. They are together in a world where I am alone.

The sun meets the horizon, painting the waves like clementines. Arcs of fuchsia and gold and turquoise dance and leap to their heart's desire. And a crisp breeze, sending chills down my arms, washing away August into September. There is sand between my toes and salt on my tongue and I curse at the ocean, my skin stained with its colors.

My limbs burn as I trudge deeper, the frigid waves cling deep into my bones and it’s the first thing I’ve felt in a while. I spread my arms out, letting the ocean claim me, as it had failed that night.

And just as I can breathe again, the crisp crests wrap around my head and pull me down, down, down.

I leave nothing but the bubbles in my lungs and the flowers in the sand.

And that tattered, little notebook.

And his note that reads, “I love you.”