By Aliza Billet
Editor’s Note: Each month, the Writers’ Guild accepts submissions for a short story following a specific theme. This month’s theme was “time’s up” featuring stories where the writer’s time is up and they have to figure out what to do next. Members voted on a short story to be featured in the YU Observer. For the month of October, “Daughter of the Tide” written by Aliza Billet was selected.
The night she’d run out of stars to wish on, there was no moon in the sky. Only the widest darkness, so long and black she felt like it would swallow her. The silver pinpricks above her were almost magnetic, the way they bored down like celestial beacons. She spread her arms out to let them beam her up, decided that looked stupid, then remembered she didn’t care. She turned her face towards the heavens and closed her eyes.
The house behind her was silent, as usual. She knew by now where the floorboards creaked and where to anticipate the bottles strewn across the floor. Not that it would make a difference if she made any noise — if her father was home, he wasn’t in a state to hear her. She’d gone out the back door that night without even checking to see if there was a car in the driveway; she’d had enough of wishful thinking.
At that thought, she pulled her face sharply from the stars. They’re cold, she thought. Cold and dead. Even through her closed eyelids she could see them mocking her. But they weren’t real. Maybe they’d burned long ago, but not anymore.
Her old mantra burned on her tongue, but she smothered the itch to vocalize it. The salty air would never hear another plea, not from her mouth or head or heart. Did the sand know to savor her footsteps?
Slowly, she made her way towards the shed at the edge of the property. She breathed in the familiar scent of wood and felt the rough grain under her fingers as she eased open the door. The soft creak of hinges in the night joined the crickets’ symphony, a subtle accompaniment to the rhythm the waves beat onto the surf. Gently, she took the paddleboard off its hooks, sparing no glance to the faded imprint where the other one used to hang. She wondered how long it would take for the sun to temper her own board’s absence, and if her father would notice it before it was gone.
Now, with her decision made, she savored every moment, every feeling, as she walked toward the surf. The crunch of the sand beneath her feet, the brush of the ocean breeze as it blew her mother’s wedding dress around her legs. The whip of her hair as it, too, tossed in the wind. She’d left it free and loose tonight, impractical but pure.
Ocean spray reached out to greet her, sprinkling her with glitter, had there only been a moon. She’d chosen tonight because it was the darkest; there was no beauty left to see. But as she reached the expanse of ocean, she caught herself wishing for the moon’s shining silver touch. Wouldn’t she look lovely in its light? But there was no one to see her as she set the board upon the surf and waded in to join it, just the little sand crabs she used to catch with her father, before everything changed. The only thing left was the black hole that was the sea, darker than the sky, with no stars illuminating its reach. It looked so peaceful, beckoning her forward, promising rest. She could almost hear her mother singing over the pounding waves, rocking her to sleep. She brushed her fingers to her forehead, where that final kiss had been deposited, all those years ago.
The cool water embraced her as she waded further. It pressed the dress to her thin frame, but it did not hold on as she heaved herself onto the board. It let her go, and she began to paddle, one arm after the other, like she had done all her life. But for the first time, she did not look back. She did not survey the sea for a wave to bring her home. Not in that direction, anyway.
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