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The Undertow

It's the one anniversary she wishes she could forget.

By Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
7
The Undertow
Photo by Chris Karidis on Unsplash

Caroline had once loved the water with every fiber of her being. Whether she was a ten-year-old swimming in her best friend's parents' pool or a twenty-year-old soaking up beach rays on spring break, the water had been a constant through her twenty-seven years of life.

Then she met Ian Brennan, a pharmacy technician working the morning shift when she went to pick up her mother's latest prescription, and she had tried not to show her smile when he scribbled his phone number on the bottom of the receipt. Who knew love could start at the back of a drug store down the street? She had always envisioned falling in love in front of the Eiffel Tower or sharing a kiss beneath a firework-ridden sky. Even pushing thirty, she had been such a naïve romantic.

But that first date a week later, when he curled his hand around hers as they walked out of the Thai restaurant, it had felt too perfect to be argued with. And, like her mother always said, "Make sure to keep a tight grip on the man who can make you laugh so hard you make a fool of yourself." Ian definitely had scored high points in that column for sure.

It had been too easy, moving in together six months later and getting engaged right before Christmas. It had been so simple, falling into the love he offered and believing that she deserved every breathless moment of it.

By the time they had booked a trip for their one-year anniversary, Caroline had convinced Ian that he would love Costa Rica. She had gone there once with two of her college dormmates, and the resort had been so lovely, perfect as a backdrop to make new memories together. Yet he hadn't looked so convinced, his smile a tad too unsure, but he liked to indulge her every whim.

If she had known—if only, if only—then she would have cancelled every reservation and ticket. They could have stayed in Michigan, in his parents' house on the lake, and everything would have been fine. It would have been fine.

But there were greater forces at play that did nothing to warn her.

The vacation started out perfect enough—a large suite that overlooked the resort's pool and open-air bar, a restaurant hall that offered all-you-can-eat buffets for every meal, and even a peek at the black sands of the beach waiting beyond the resort's buildings. It felt like a prelude to what their honeymoon might be in just a year's time, once the wedding planning was all set in motion.

Then one morning Caroline slept in, not even hearing the door shut as Ian left for an early run down on the beach. The only trace he left behind was a note by her bedside, promising that he would be probably be back before she even got up to get ready for the day. They were supposed to go to Coco Beach to explore the more touristy side of Costa Rica. They would have gone to a local cantina, danced to long-ago ballads that were still popular here, and just enjoyed relishing each other's company in this tiny slice of paradise.

But Carolina awoke and Ian was still not back from the short run. Slight unease grew into panic as the hours drew longer, each moment building the dread of so many terrible what-if's.

A search of the beach confirmed her fears: a boat just off the coast had recovered a male body. It appeared to be an accidental drowning. And she was the one who had to identify the body. She could barely look because looking would be confirming which would mean this was the reality, all the facts undeniable.

The next few days were a blurred nightmare. At some point Ian's parents flew down. Caroline could barely recall anything from those days or the weeks that followed. Even months later, after the services back home, she still wasn't able to recollect all that had occurred. She was alive, but she felt nothing. She felt like she had drowned that same day with Ian. Sometimes, on the worst days, she wished she had.

Therapy followed. Grief counseling, group sessions, mental health communities online. But she still felt like she was going through the motions. Some days she barely remembered that she had to eat. She just felt so tired all the time.

And, when she did dream, Ian accused her of killing him. Soon enough she started trying to sleep as little as possible. Wide swatches of her life ceased to exist during that time.

Only Ian's mother managed to break through. "My son loved you. Don't you dare waste your precious life. He would never be able to rest if he saw you now. He would want you to live, even if that meant it would be without him."

Those words were just the beginning. And, as the one-year anniversary of Ian's death drew near, Caroline used the last of what was left of her savings to buy a ticket back to Costa Rica. The black sands called to her even in her dreams, haunting her.

When she stood in the sands and watched the waves crash against the shore, she thought back to her darker thoughts. Her grief might have once made her believe Ian would have wanted her to follow him, ease herself into the water and find the memory of him underwater, but she knew the truth. Ian's mother had been right. He would have wanted her to move past the mourning period. He had been hers for only a short time, but she couldn't stay his. If she stayed tethered to him, she would find herself again and again drawn to the lure of going into the water and never resurfacing.

A boat drifted far off, scraping through the waves, and Caroline felt her heart break a little bit further as she remembered wanting to take Ian on his first boat ride on the ocean. That would never be. The thought nearly caused her to crumple down into the sand, her head tucked against her knees, but she managed to stay standing.

The water tried to catch her feet in the current. She stayed far back. If anything, there was one other thing that had truly been lost with Ian's passing: she no longer loved the water. The ocean had taken away her future, her everything. And there was no forgiveness coming after such a betrayal.

But Caroline still stared ahead, the wind teasing at her hair, as the boat swept along the tides. She would keep going. There was no other choice. She had to keep sailing along as best she could. Ian would have wanted that for her.

Sinking below the waves and succumbing would never be an option.

literature
7

About the Creator

Jillian Spiridon

just another writer with too many cats

twitter: @jillianspiridon

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