The wall of sand was intimidating before me.
I put my car in park and returned my hands to the wheel, my gut twisting at the thought of getting out. The sands of Mount Baldy had changed drastically since the last time I had been there. The notorious hill was roped off and denied human entrance, with markers directing a new path to the beach on the other side. The bittersweet memory that played in my head didn’t match what lay before me, and I couldn’t help but take it as a sign.
Just get this done, and get on your way. Last band-aid.
My mental coaching didn’t make me feel any less sick to my stomach. I looked in the backseat at the neat stack of luggage as I tried to pull myself together. A new life, packed into three suitcases. I was so close now. This was my last stop before the airport.
Why did it have to be the hardest one?
I looked back at the sand, the steep wall so smooth it looked like glass. The bittersweet memory returned, long-lost echoes of a nice kiss and laughter playing over in my head like a recording, the whisper of a perfect moment in time fading before I felt the hooks of the pain that followed. I shut it out, holding on the hope that when I pulled away from here, the memory would get buried in the sand.
I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and unlocked it. The screen filled with my reason for being here, the text that baited me probably just as well as it intended to; a message from my ex-boyfriend, Brendan.
Heard you’re leaving town. Can I at least say goodbye? I’ll be at our old spot until dusk.
I threw open the door and stepped out, not wanting to delay a second longer. The air felt humid in the enclosed parking lot, the border of forestation trapping the air like a little capsule. I followed the markers to the newly constructed detour, and found the entrance to the trail started with a wooden staircase into the foliage. I swallowed hard and crossed the lot.
By the time I made it to the landing, a couple was heading down. Sunglasses and faces reddened by the sun, equally cheery and exhausted from a day at the beach. They nodded as we passed each other, and our pleasantries were automatic.
“Nice day for it, enjoy.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The miniature boardwalk gave way to a beaten path of loose sand, leaves, and slag. It didn’t stand up to the upward beauty of the old dunes, and the man-made trail came with its own sense of foreboding. The trail dipped with the slope of the hill only to grow steeper the closer you got to the beach. I was thankful for my shoes, but knew the sand would work its way in anyway. The thought of the little grains scrunching between my toes on my flight made me agitated. Maybe after I dealt with this, I wouldn’t care so much. I tried to enjoy the beauty of the lakeside wilderness, but my mind kept pulling away, to the rollercoaster that had been mine and Brendan’s relationship.
Brendan and I met in college. He was handsome, flirty, and had a love for partying. I fell for him immediately, his dorky smoothness feeling like a breath of fresh air in the monotony of courses that my life had become.
In the beginning, it was normal. Nice. Awkward hangouts playing video games together, and flirting after Burger King. It was the first time I really came out of my shell; I wasn’t big on the party scene, but wasn’t opposed to trying new things. When things got a little more serious and we started sleeping together, I exchanged lonely nights and Netflix with staying over and a bottle of wine. It felt good to let a little loose, as I had spent most of my teenage years studying hard and staying in when everyone else was out having fun.
On the days we didn’t spend together, he would be off with his friends, or staying up getting high. In the beginning I didn’t mind. We were younger, and life is meant for experimenting and having fun. And when it was just the two of us, he was sweet, and he made our time special.
When I got out of my comfort zone enough we met at Mount Baldy, sharing a joint and watching the clouds as the day passed by. We would always sit on a little cliff spot, an overgrown portion of dune that overlooked the shore a few dozen feet above.
We dated for quite a while before things changed. He would show up to classes late, or miss them completely. His part-time job would never pan out, and in time I would pay for his food, and sometimes weed and beer. I didn’t mind, really. I was totally in love with him, and assumed it was just part of his “broke-college phase”, one that would change in time.
But it never did. The jobs never lasted and the money never saved. I laughed with him through the highs and stood by him through the lows, watching him drink or smoke away each little paycheck until he was broke and depressed, often trying to sweet-talk me to “help him out one last time”. In the beginning I caved, a lot. Sometimes it was “just a pint so I can stay up with the boys”, others it was “just enough weed to get me through the weekend”.
I arrived at a peak in the hill, one accompanied by colorful hazard signs featuring stick figures in peril. I stopped to look, taking a moment to catch my breath a little. The climb was pretty steep to this point, so it was a pleasant distraction. Bold letters warning of the unstable sand in the roped off area, as well as the threat of riptide when swimming in the lake below.
As I continued down the trail, so did my thoughts of Brendan. The longer I went the more it started to hurt, each step digging up the past in the wake of my new future. It wasn’t always bad, but when every smiling moment was stained with the ugliness of another, it was hard to discern if there was any real happiness in the relationship. As much as I wanted to turn heel and leave, I felt like it was necessary to close this chapter so I could grow, and hopefully one day flourish from it. Even if the late goodbye was too-little too-late.
By the time I had started the uphill again, my mind wandered into a carousel of emotion, the good and the bad brought up hand in hand, each a much different moment in time:
A passionate hook-up in the backseat at the campus, to the pregnancy scare when he was too drunk to pull out. Staying up late watching movies together, replaced by him falling asleep within the first five minutes because he was too stoned. Recalling a special time when he cooked me dinner, fading away to him sending me out for fast food late at night because it wasn’t safe for him to drive.
The trail angled upward, and as my legs continued on autopilot, so did the memories.
The sweet purchase of a promise ring, only to see him looking through my purse when he thought I was sleeping. Long walks and held hands through town, then bailing him out for public intoxication. The first I love yous, buried under the sound of a belligerent argument. The memory of sharing a joint at Mount Baldy, only to recall when I revisit here alone to cry. Spending graduation alone, weeks after he dropped out. A promise of how things would get better, only to be forgotten.
I was pulled from my recollections to see a fork in the road, and with it, an old wooden sign. Two arrows pointing in opposite directions, each with an old painted label. The sign on the left read “SHORE”, and on the right, “PEAK”. My guess was I would find Brendan on the right in our old spot, if there was anything left of it from the erosion. I took a deep breath and headed that direction, into a tight corridor of trees that led to the peak.
I hoped he’d be well. I was worried he wasn’t. Ducking into the trees, I realized I wasn’t prepared for either.
I could feel the breeze from the lake now. Orange and violet rays poked through the trees, accompanied by the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance. The path was tighter and it was dark, the uneven ground within the trees making me anxious. Several long-dried layers of leaves and the remnants of fallen rotten trees made me feel like I didn’t belong, but not as much as the light at the end of the tunnel. The urge to turn and leave was overwhelming, and I felt the preemptive knot forming in my stomach. I tried to relax and breathe, and assure myself it would be alright. By the time I made it to the peak, I realized I hadn’t been breathing at all.
Brendan was waiting at the cliff, sitting on the edge quietly as he watched the water below. He seemed to sense my arrival, looking in my direction just as I emerged from the trees. His face lit up for a moment, a split second of hope before the reminder of why I had come out. His eyes were hollow, his face slack. A glimmer of a smile tried to shine through, but I could tell it was forced.
“Brendan,” I said, and he got up from the ledge. Sand crumbled away and trickled down to the shore below.
“Faye. You made it.” He said quietly, brushing himself off. He looked nervous, and looked around awkwardly as he approached.
“Yeah.” I said, looking solemnly at the water. I followed its smooth rhythm from the horizon to the shore, watching it get choppier as it reached the sand. It was a beautiful view, and would’ve been a nice evening if it were any other day. He approached and looked like he was going to offer a hug, and decided against it.
“Thanks for coming,” He said, fidgeting a little before gesturing to me “you look good.”
I felt a tinge of sadness as I looked at him; baggy clothes, torn shoes, his hair and face untrimmed. The same as he looked when I left, although he had lost some weight.
You look tired—
“You look good, too. How have you been? How are things?” I said, wishing I had something better to say.
He shrugged, fidgeting again. He looked at the water nervously, before looking at his feet.
“Same old, you know. One day at a time,” he paused to nudge the sand with his shoe, before adding “not as good as you though, I bet.”
My eyes wanted to well up, but I pushed it off.
“Is that how you wanted to do this? Make this my fault?” I asked plainly, standing my ground.
“N-no—no. It’s not what you think. Look. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, is all. That’s it. I’m sorry.” Brendan put his hands up in defense, something I had seen him do a hundred times. It felt like it was different this time, but it always felt like that. His eyes were puffy, like he had been crying. There was something off about his demeanor. He looked rushed— agitated.
A cool breeze blew from the lake, and the waves tossed on the shore below. I focused on it and took a deep breath, trying to shrug off the emotion rising within. Brendan fidgeted more, his eyes settling on the ground.
“What’s going on, Brendan?” I asked, rubbing my temples. I could feel a faint ringing in my ears, what I assumed was the start of a tension headache.
“Nothing. It’s just— I heard you were leaving. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and all the good times we’ve had. Things I’ll miss when you’re gone. I just wanted to tell you… I’m sorry. For everything. I know I haven’t been good to you, and you have every right to move on. I get that. It just hurts, you know? Knowing you’ll be gone.” Brendan sniffled, fighting back another round of tears.
I sighed. The words were familiar, a rehash of a plea from the past. We had been here before, but no matter how the presentation went, the outcome was the same.
“Brendan—”
“I can’t live without you.”
His statement hung in the air, the dead weight of them blocking out the sounds of the lake. I tried to look into his eyes, but he seemed unable to look at me.
“That’s what this was about? One last attempt to keep me in? I’m done, Brendan. You know that. Is that why you called me out here? I’m leaving the country.”
“I know—” He protested.
“I have a flight in an hour. I can’t— you think I’d just drop everything and give you one more chance? After all this time?”
“No.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I just,” Brendan sighed, looking at the lake once more “I just wanted to talk, that’s all. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Have you been drinking?” I blurted before I could stop myself. Brendan took it like a silent slap, a single tear running down his cheek.
“No. No. I’m clear. I’ve never been this clear.”
I didn’t know what to say. The water started getting choppier, the waves slapping into the shore more aggressively. There were no words I could say to make this better, no way to smooth it over. After a moment of silence, Brendan shuffled over to the spot he was sitting and sat back down.
I looked at the corridor of trees— my exit. Brendan started to cry, holding his face in his hands. The sound still wounded me. I checked the time on my phone, I still had a little bit. I sighed and sat next to him. After a while, he spoke again.
“You remember when we used to sit out here? Just us, watching the waves?” He said quietly.
The memory of us smoking together, and me bawling alone.
“Yeah.”
Brendan sniffled and wiped his eyes, and together we watched the lake. I watched the slow rear back of the next wave, and listened to the collective woosh as it prepared to hit the shore. Underneath the peace of it all, it felt angry.
He said nothing for a time, collecting himself. I could tell he wanted to say more, so I waited.
“There’s been this pain inside me. For a long time, now. I don’t know how to get rid of it. It didn’t start when you left— i-it’s been there. And I’ve been trying to ignore it. Trying to dull it. Nothing seems to work. Ever since you left… I just can’t take it anymore. It’s too much. Gnawing at me, every day.”
As I listened my eyes drifted to the lake, a strange pale shape drawing me in. It poked through the water, a slow bulbous birth that rose unnaturally through the water’s surface. The ringing noise was starting to get stronger, like it was echoing over the waves.
“Brendan—”
“I can’t do it. Everything in the world, the weight of it all. I don’t have it in me. I’m just tired— too tired. The weight is too heavy and I don’t think I can do it without you.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, half looking at him, half looking at the water. The more I looked at the shape, the more it looked like a face.
“Were you ever happy? With me?” He said, and I looked at him. His lip was quivering, tears streaming down both cheeks. I reached out and touched his shoulder, and it only made it worse.
“You know I was happy. For a lot of it, but you couldn’t— I couldn’t—”
In the distance, the shape continued to rise. The pale, scarred face of a head gave way to a neck, and with it, shoulders.
“Do you see that? Is there someone—”
Brendan looked at it and paid it no mind, like it wasn’t there.
“The pain has to end. I can’t take it. Especially if you’re not with me. I’ll sink. I can’t do it. Buried under the weight of it all. The pain is too much.”
Through the water, a torso followed the head. Bloated and white, the skin and muscle tattered. Like it had been beaten by the waves for a long time. The face looked up at us, eyes like two black pearls, most of its lips missing around its mouth. Its jaw a tight clamp of exposed teeth.
“Brendan, what is that? Do you see it?” I asked, and he ignored me.
Whatever it was, it was almost out of the water. A torso covered in pulpy gashes and little bites, saturated strands of flesh dangling from every light-colored wound. Once its shriveled nudity rose from the water, I shook Brendan.
“Brendan, what the fuck—”
“Aren’t you tired, Faye?”
He looked into my eyes, his glazed and defeated stare burrowing deep. He didn’t even look at it, but I knew he knew.
The wind picked up, an icy gust that shivered my bones. I can’t explain it, but it felt… wrong. Brendan refused to look away from me, even as dripping toes hovered over the water. The pieces in my mind didn’t make sense, but the look in his eyes told me it was his doing.
“Brendan, what have you done?”
He blinked away the accusation, tears trickling. Another crashing wave, louder than the last.
“I found something to take it away.” Was all he said, before lightly shaking his head.
“W-what—how? What did you do?” I asked, watching the swollen being drift closer. There was an inaudible malice to it, the way its lifeless gaze peered up at us from the lake, with every gaining inch. There was an unnatural static to its float, and the water’s surface rippled beneath it.
Brendan finally looked at it, a sickening acceptance in his eyes. Thoughts of our past raced through my head, and through the frantic catalog I wondered how it all went horribly wrong. I was there for him. I tried. Thoughts of shared smiles, dreamy eyes, and laughs raced through my head, but the primal urge to flee pushed itself to the front.
“We should go. We have to go, now.” I urged, but he didn’t listen.
“It should only hurt for a moment.” He said, and looked out at the lake. The monster was close enough I could see the wispy remains on its scalp.
I couldn’t watch him die. Not like this.
“You don’t have to do this— we can run. Let me help you.” I pleaded.
Brendan just sat there, the wind tossing his shaggy hair. To my surprise, he started to smile. He leaned against me, and even though his whisper was soft, it cut right through me.
“I told him he could have us both.”
I looked at him, and he started to laugh. A maniacal, unhinged cackle that echoed over the beach. The monster over the water was getting closer, its feet dangling over the sand as it drifted in. I looked into its abyssal eyes, and the ringing in my ears started to blare. Brendan’s text message played through my head over and over.
Can I at least say goodbye?
I got up from the ledge and ran, Brendan’s laughter echoing even as I disappeared into the trees. I ran as fast as the sand would let me. Panic settled in as the sand bogged down my footing, each hurried stride kicked dust in all directions.
I passed the sign for the fork in the road, and quickly descended the downhill portion of the trail. The air was cold now, chilling the sweat on my forehead as I reached the dip and proceeded to climb. My legs burned as I went as fast as I could, huffing through every clumsy step.
The pain has to end.
Especially if I’m not with you.
Brendan’s words taunted me as I ran, every footfall haunted by his laughter and the harrowing floating corpse.
Aren’t you tired, Faye?
By the time I made it to the bold warning signs, the sounds of the waves had faded. I took a moment to catch my breath, my lungs burning from the rapid hike. There was no wind in the trees, and no breeze from the lake. Only the stagnant humidity of the forest. I looked to see if there was anyone on the trail or the parking lot below, but there was nobody in sight. The sun was setting, and a dimness was falling quickly.
Off in the distance, I heard a blood curdling scream. It sounded like Brendan, but the longer it went, the higher it got. It was like his voice was being ripped apart.
Then it was gone.
I turned heel and ran, pushing down the wooden staircase I had climbed not long ago. I jogged across the parking lot to my car, already fumbling the keys from my pocket.
I unlocked the door, shoved the key in the ignition, and started the car.
Ahead of me was the wall of sand. It was so flat and pristine, and the clarity of it made me wonder if any of this was even real. Maybe I had just made it up in a panic— an excuse to break away from Brendan. Maybe my guilt or selfishness had gotten the better of me, and I pretended it was there so I had an out. Maybe I just had a panic attack.
Ahead, the sand starts to tremble. The little granules vibrating and skittering, like the dunes themselves are scared. The center of the wall starts to shift, and with a deafening blast of sound, a balding head pushes through. Two unblinking black eyes, staring at me.
I threw it in reverse and backed out of my spot, wincing against the ringing as the monster forced its way toward me. The tires squealed as I left the dunes behind me, merging back onto the road widely with my foot pushing the pedal to the floor.
I stayed on the road for a while, cutting back through town until I hit the highway. I drove straight to the airport, focusing only on the speedometer and the occasional check in the rear-view mirror. There was nothing behind me except slower cars and shrinking roads as I left the nightmare behind me.
I pushed away thoughts of it as I arrived at the hectic roundabout of the airport, monotonously pulling in and surrendering my car to a valet. I got my luggage from the backseat and proceeded through TSA, and numbly checked in for my flight.
Each time I looked out the windows of the terminal, I saw nothing but the congested traffic of the vehicles outside, and the corralled populace within.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There’s no feasible way, Brendan was just crazy. It must’ve been stress. I just blew it out of proportion— saw what I wanted to see.
Boarding the plane, I left the past behind. No more guilt, no more pain. As we broke through the clouds, I settled into my seat and thought of a better future.
I arrived at the hotel in the middle of the night. The streets were dark and empty, but I embraced the unknown environment and let it wash my old life away. I have a busy day tomorrow. There’s so much to do on the road ahead, but for now I’m too tired to think about it.
The sheets are soft, and the bed is comfortable. I turned on the TV for some white noise. I hope it’ll help with the ringing in my ears.