NINE NIGHTS TO SEA

I barely make it before he starts. The answering machine clicks over as the floor’s coolness seeps through my pjs. He always starts haphazardly, like he’s not sure he should leave a message. I sip my wine, letting his familiar tenor envelope me. The only embrace of his I still allow myself. “Hi Freya. I uh hope this finds you well,” scoff. “Think I’ve convinced myself if I keep calling you’ll eventually answer. Till then I just call to hear your voice on the message.” I take a bigger drink as the usual pause comes up. My chance to pick up. My palm itches, my chest aches. Instead I rest my head against the table. He sighs. “I love you Frey. Never forget.” Feeling moisture on my cheeks, I give into the pain. Just for tonight. Seeing all the young people at work just makes me feel old, in more ways than one. I shake my head as I slip behind the counter. I lose myself in the rhythm of drink mixing; espresso, milk, syrup, whip cream, etc. It takes me a minute to realize its my name being called. “Frey-a!” “Yeah?” My boss does the old school hand gesture for phone. “Call for you.” I take the phone offered. My mind is racing. There’s only one person who would try to find me. His time was last night though. “Freya Mar?” “Yes?” “Were you married to David Gordon?” Ice courses through my veins. Its been years since I heard his name, since the word marriage was used in reference to me. Ten years to be exact. My silence gives him the go ahead. “I’m sorry to tell you, he’s passed away.” I don’t remember closing myself in the storage room. Now I slide down against the door, my knees too weak. “What?” I breathe. The sympathy oozes from his unfamiliar voice. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.” “What…what happened?” “He was fighting cancer.” My heart drops. While I had run as fast and far as I could, he had been dying. His very body deteriorating. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. He pauses then starts again. “Going about this backwards I apologize. I’m Arthur Dougal, his lawyer and estate executor. He’s requested you be present for the reading of his will.” I sink against the door. “Of course. I’ll be on the next flight out.” Time to stop running. I can’t resist. The waves kiss my feet. Enticing then withdrawing. Beckoning me in. It’s been so long. Too long. I sway forward, then back. It’s not the same now, nothing is. “Miss Mar?” I open my eyes when his shadow falls over me. “Freya.” I correct. He’s what I expect of a lawyer. Clean cut, fitted suit. Dress shoes despite the sand. I look away to hide my grin. Remembering what brought me back steals it. I shake his offered hand, slipping my sandals back on. “I’m new to lawyers but didn’t expect the meeting to occur on the beach.” He’s rueful. “I agree it is a bit out of the norm, however so was my client.” “That’s very true.” I mumble. He gestures ahead. “Shall we?” I look over, stopping short at a remembered structure. “The lighthouse.” He looks back. “You remember it?” I’m at a loss. “I mean I knew it had been in his family but I didn’t know he kept it….all this time.” He takes the lead at the stairs. The weathered wood is warm beneath my palm. “It’s tied to your part of the will.” “Ok…” “You want to step inside?” I feel this chill run down my spine. I can’t pinpoint what from though. I hug myself. “I’d rather not. Is it okay to stay out here instead?” He gives me a look, but lowers himself to the worn glider on the porch. “No problem,” He pulls a folder from his briefcase. “In accordance with his will he’s left his fortune to you with a few stipulations if you will.” “Stipulations as in?” “He also left you this property. However both are contingent on you spending nine nights-” I stiffen. “Nine nights?” This garners another look. With a shrug. “Yes. He was very specific. Nine nights spent here and after that both it and the money are yours free and clear.” I can’t meet his gaze. “And if it doesn’t happen?” He looks at the document, verifying what it says. “If the requested time isn’t met then everything is forfeited and the state will take possession of both property and assets if no next of kin can be found.” “He’s the last of his family line as far as I know.” I look to the ocean. “What happened to his body?” He sighs. “He requested to be cremated and placed in his family tomb.” My chest tightens. “Why me.” I whisper. He’s closer than I thought. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot at once.” I laugh though there’s no humor in it. “I’m sure you’re wondering why he pins all this on his separated wife of 10 years.” “I’m not here to pass judgment.” I meet his gaze. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have an opinion.” He sighs, putting the paperwork away. “I got the impression he didn’t have a lot of people he trusted. I don’t know what happened with your marriage, but it seems there was still a lot of love there. On his end anyway.” My chest aches, eyes burning. On both ends I almost admit. I stand, wringing my chilled hands. I stare toward the ocean. It suddenly just all feels like too much. I need space. Time to think, process, decompress. I don’t hear him move but suddenly I feel his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll give you some time. The doors unlocked and the keys with my card are on the front table. Let me know if you have any questions.” Lump in throat, all I can do is nod. He takes his leave and I’m left to my memories. It wouldn’t stop running through my mind. Nine nights, nine nights. How did he know of the significance of that? What had I missed? I’ve been packing my hotel room though slower than necessary. I dread staying at the lighthouse. Though I’m still unsure why. Call it a gut feeling. Though I move my luggage, I don’t last more than a few minutes in the lighthouse. Whatever feeling I have had from the beginning became even more oppressive once I was inside. I wander the town, heading nowhere in particular. Just trying to distance myself from my thoughts, memories. David. There’s never been a day I haven’t thought of him in 10 years, but being here, it was almost like he was next to me. I’m contemplating heading back when I see it. The Selkie: bar and grill. Beneath the name there’s a woman standing on a rock with seals frolicking at her feet. I’m baffled. But I can’t resist a peak inside. Past happy hour its sparsely filled. I head to the bar, taking in all the sea themed décor. Emphasis on seals. “What can I get you?” I turn to the bartender. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin. The epitome of a surfer washed ashore. “Tequila on the rocks please.” “What do you think?” “Of?” He gestures with the tequila bottle. “The theme, décor, etc.” I snort. “It’s definitely a first for me. Unique theme to pick.” He shrugs. “It’s compelling folklore and its good for tourism. They love all that what if?” I tip my drink in thanks. “True. You believe in the stories?” He wipes down the bar. “I didn’t say that. But it’s interesting. The owner was convinced his ancestor had an interaction with one, hence the bar theme.” “Ah.” “What about you? You a believer?” “I believe in what I can see and touch. Experience.” “Touché,” A commotion at the front door cuts him off. I glance over my shoulder. There’s now a group of women entering. Though nothing unique in particular, they seem to put out this untouchable aura. Almost dangerous. Whether intentional or not the rest of the patrons give them a wide berth. Guys giving longing looks while girls are more scathing. I don’t know them, but there’s still a feeling of familiarity. One girl catches my eye. Black cornrows cross her head and her eyes are almost unnaturally green. Sea glass green. I can tell she feels it too. She smirks. “Hey.” I nod. “Hi.” They pass the bar, instead heading to a tall table in the back. “It’s that time again.” The bartender mumbles. I turn back. “Pardon?” He looks rueful. “Every few nights a group of them come in and ten to one there’s some kind of altercation involving them before the nights over.” “How often? Do they come in a mean?” “Every 8-9 days? It’s always the same. Can’t get too mad though, they are really good tippers.” Suddenly all I can smell is the ocean. Cool and salty. My chest aches. I down my drink before setting some cash on the table. “Thank you. Hopefully its an uneventful night tonight.” He winks. “Well not sure I want that.” I chuckle heading out. Time to face the music. I take a deep breath as I enter the lighthouse. I left the light on by the front door. Given I didn’t go in any farther, it’s the only light in a sea of darkness. On the table I find the business card from the lawyer. Next to it is a small, black book. The note on the cover says: Maybe this will have the answers you’re looking for – Arthur D. The lighthouse is so sparse, its hard to believe David had lived here full time. I can’t bring myself to stay in his room. Just feels too personal, almost like I’m trying to go back to our marriage bed. Given there’s no guest room I move my stuff to the surprisingly large couch in the living room. Makes me smile. David always did fall asleep watching TV. I change into my pjs before settling into the cushions with my pilfered bedding. No guest room but he wasn’t completely unprepared luckily. Bottle of wine and that book. I take a soldiering drink of wine. Then dive in. Turns out it was David’s journal, dating back to when we first found. It’s an out of body experience to relive all this memories, but through his eyes. His point of view. So far there aren’t any answers coming from this trip down memory lane. Then I find a photo in the pages. It almost slips through my fingers. Included was a man and woman on a cliffs edge near the sea. Of the selfie style, the man is grinning at the camera as the woman tries to hide in his neck. The colors are faded and their clothing shows his dated. Its her face that makes me cringe. It’s the same one I see in the mirror. I drop both on the coffee table, my palms almost feeling scalded. He can’t know. How did he know? I finish the wine, setting the empty bottle on the floor. I turn off the light and try to bury myself in the covers and cushions. Anything to escape my new questions, the taint that is now spreading across my memories with David. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Or at all. Scarier, maybe he knew me better than I thought. And based on his possession of the photo I thought long gone, perhaps he had known me longer too. Though I had hoped the wine would help, sleep eluded me. My head was too full of memories. And this photo caused me to go over each of them with a fine tooth comb, now convinced I had missed signs along the way. At dawn I give up. With a pit in my stomach, I open his journal to where I left off. I catch my breath. The entry date is only weeks before he passed away.

Freya, I hope the photo didn’t scare you. It and everything else I had pieced together didn’t change how I felt about you. How I still feel. I’ll always love you Frey, you’re the mate of my soul. Getting the latest prognosis this morning I realize its time to come clean. Before I run outta time. I can’t bring myself to tell you in person. I can see you now, giving me that look. Asking what I’m afraid of. I’d like to say its just your reaction but more I can’t bare to see the look of disillusionment in your eyes. I never thought of myself as selfish, but everything changes when you’re facing down the reaper himself. My father told me once we were monster hunters. That we wanted to find what goes bump in the night. Or in the ocean as the case may be. He wanted no part of it. My uncle however, was obsessed. With one myth in particular: selkies. He was convinced they were real. Not only that but that they visited this very town that used the myth to lure in tourists. He was adamant he met one, fell in love with one. He told me he used the old stories as a guide and stole her fur so she could never leave land again. The pain takes me by surprise. As if its happening all over again. I feel that sucking hole in my chest. I glance at the photo. I have this irrational urge to destroy it. I can’t bring myself to though. After all I had loved him once too. That’s usually about the time I’d stop listening. I couldn’t fathom that. How if you truly loved someone, could you trap them there against their will? I came to the conclusion that he had met someone one drunken night, say on the beach, and in the aftermath had convinced himself it was a creature of folklore. I asked what happened to her once and his only response was that the myths got some things wrong. To quote my father, as the years of his solitude passed he fell into the bottle and never crawled out. I never gave his story another thought until years later. My father passed away leaving me the family fortune. Months later my uncle passed, leaving me his lighthouse. He’d say he built it so she could always find her way back to him. The day I signed for it, I met you. I remember I was so intimidated by you, I felt the need to impress you. Hence pointing out the lighthouse that was newly mine. You had such a visceral reaction to it, I never thought to bring you back. As the years went by neither of us mentioned it again and it simply became that property I owned in Rhode Island. After we split, I found I couldn’t stay in our home without you. So I moved back here. I didn’t start clearing things out until I got sick. Something to keep my mind off everything. I found this photo and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. I couldn’t bring myself to call you. I rationalized that if he didn’t have it anymore I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I just always felt like I had plenty of time to figure it all out. But now I’m out of time with too many wrongs to right.

The page wrinkles under my tears. I feel consumed by too many feelings. Rage, sorrow, despair, betrayal and there’s still those echoes of love. For the one I lost years ago and the one taken from me.

The next entry is dated just a couple days before I got the call. I’m confined to the hospital now. They say I can go home as there’s nothing left to do by try to stay comfortable. But I no longer have a home, haven’t in over 10 years. Selfishly I want to call you. Beg if I have to, for you to come make my last moments less lonely. But I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone. Instead I’ll say goodbye this way. Hoping you’ll be reading this after I’m gone.

There’s a skeleton key taped to the page, its cool to the touch.

Here’s the key to the tower. It’s been locked as long as it’s been mine. I couldn’t bring myself to go up there and for that I’m sorry. I’m hoping it has what you’re looking for and can right the biggest wrong my family has committed against you. Regardless of your role in all this, you deserved far better than either of us. I love you Frey, never forget. Through blurry eyes I turn the page. That’s the last entry. The rest of the journal is filled with pictures of us. Ones I had thought he destroyed. I give up wiping the tears away. Instead I let the memories carry me back to simpler times. I pick up the one on the table. All of them, one last time. The nine nights request made sense now. He knew about us, or at least some of the more popular myths. Despite what he wrote I wasn’t completely blameless in all this either. I had come back to see his uncle. To make one last desperate plea that he give it back. Being locked to the land was driving me crazy. When I found out he had died I couldn’t help but visit the ocean. My ocean. Minutes later I met David. He looked so familiar, but in my grief I couldn’t pinpoint why. Years later when I made the connection I was in too deep, too in love. I rationalized that if his uncle had told him anything it would have shown itself by then. But I couldn’t stay. Though it felt like cutting my heart out, I left and never looked back. Till now. That creepy crawly feeling gets worse the closer I get to the tower. It’s almost like an awareness. Sensing something up there. Taped to the door is another note. Inside David has listed both a buyer for the lighthouse and potential charities for the money, just in case he writes. Noated at the bottom he says giving this to the lawyer will let me out of his earlier stipulations. “One problem down.” I mumble. The door opens with a loud creak of disuse. I curl my nose at the scent: mixture of must and mildew. At the top of the stairs I stop short. Everywhere the eye can see are sketches. Sketches of me. Me and…seals? Given that David had said it was locked since he bought it, it can only be assumed that someone else did all these. The first human man I fell for, his uncle. And the first man to betray me. I wander around taking them all in. They are stunning. Especially the seal ones. Whether he knows it or not he caught a few of us. Those ones are my favorite. I bump into a steamer trunk next to the light. I back up, sinking to my knees. My hands are shaking as I lift the lid. There it is. Finally. Laid on top there’s a single note. My biggest regret. You’ll always have my heart Freya. -A for the first time in years I finally have my fur back. The key to getting home. 9th night: As darkness falls I find my way through town. I drop off two letters at the mailbox, cutting all ties to my former life. Then David’s note at the lawyer’s office. Tying all loose ends. Later I set up a bonfire on the beach. Adding the sketches and photos as it grows. I watch the flames, feeling both lighter and heavier as each one turns to ash. “Thought I might find you here.” I look up. There here, the girls from the bar. The one with dreadlocks stops next to me. “You ready to go home?” I sigh. “I’m nervous,” I admit. “It’s been a long time.” She winks. “It’s like riding a bike, you never forget.” I can only hope she’s right. We leave as the fire dies. Dawn is on the way and we have a small window to slip out undetected. The water feels both familiar and foreign. Welcoming but intimidating. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten. Forgotten it’s slinky caress, how it felt like coming home. My clothes soak it up, becoming heavy and dragging. I release layer after layer until all that’s left is my fur. At first it feels awkward, uncomfortable. But as it spreads it all comes back. I dive through the waves, just to feel them run their silky fingers through my fur. I see them ahead, waiting for me. But something pulls me back. Some small part that is still from the land. I look back one last time. And as the waves join the sky I’m sure I see a man standing watch from the lighthouse.