The Little Things

She had sat alone for what seemed like hours. Anyone else might have long become lonely, but for her, time spent alone was better than time spent with people. People always stared with long, pitiful faces, and ruined her meditative state of numbness.

On the edge of where ocean meets land, far from tourists and the fragrant stench of sunscreen and sweat, was how she had spent her evenings. She would get home from whatever activity her mother said would “help her feel better”, hear the thud of her bag on hardwood, then saunter out onto the beach just through the backdoor. Getting the house on the beach had always been their dream together, but now she was alone. Nothing would ever be the same.

The coast of Maine was different from any other coast; rocks jilted up from the earth as if the frozen water had permanently shocked them, and vibrant pine trees sprouted from any unclaimed dirt they could find. It was impossible to stand outside without hearing a constant barrage of seagulls screaming as they searched for their next meal, or chickadees going about their daily routines. From her spot on the sand, she would shift her gaze between the erratic gulls to the choppy water as they dived and chatted amongst themselves.

“Rem?” Laura, her mother, called to her from a few yards away. “Are you out here?”

Remi shifted toward the noise, “Over here, mum.”

“What are you doing? It’s dark,” her mother’s voice wavered as she shuffled over the sand.

Remi hadn’t actually noticed the time of day. She had been too focused on the sound of the gulls and the waves. “Sitting, what are you doing here?”

Laura hesitated for a moment before settling down beside her, “You were supposed to call me when you got home and you didn’t, and you weren’t answering the phone. I just…” She tried to hide her fatigued expression, “I wanted to check on you.”

Remi sighed, “About what?”

“You know what.”

She did know, “That I’d finally off myself?”

Laura fell silent as she stared at her daughter in the dim light. They were alike in so many ways. Physically, she resembled her father’s dark skin tone and beautiful curly hair, but she had her mother’s eyes; big, bright, full of compassion and worry. They had started picking up some of the same habits, like their tendency to drink coffee in the evening, and how they did their hair. Even the clothes they picked out for themselves would somehow find their way into the other’s closet over time. Remi’s hands combed through the sand, her small frame was hugged to her knees and Laura had unthinkingly mirrored her position.

“Rem,” Laura began, trying to find the right vocabulary. There isn’t a dictionary for words and phrases to say to your daughter after the death of her husband. “Can you blame me for worrying? It’s been almost a year.”

Remi gritted her teeth as she battled tears, “What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t make this about me, I just can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“You just made this about you,” her words were full of venom. Every conversation had ended this way lately, negative and biting. Laura knew Remi wanted to be left alone, but her fear of what might happen overpowered her ability to leave.

“We should go inside,” Laura spoke softly.

“I can’t be in there anymore.”

Her mother was at a loss and Remi was self-destructing. What more could she do; beg? Beg her daughter not to mourn? Beg her not to feel sad every time she woke up and remembered he wasn’t there? They were both so young, just touching twenty-five. He had been a wonderful, healthy young man with a bright future in medicine. And then suddenly he was sick. It happened so fast; Remi barely had time to kiss him goodbye.

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad, Rem,” Laura’s voice broke as she whispered. She expected more venom, another reason to shut her mouth and let her daughter soak in misery, but instead she got something much softer.

“I don’t know what else to be.” There was no venom, only unbearable heartache.

Her mother furrowed her brows, “you have so much more to be.”

Remi didn’t move, still staring at the crystal water although her eyes were glazed over. She wasn’t really taking in the view; it was just somewhere to look.

“I know you were so small to remember, but I went through this when my brother died. I couldn’t understand why he had been taken from my life, or how to feel about it. I just felt sad,” she watched her daughter carefully, looking for any emotion besides numbness. “And what’s worse is I started pushing people away. I felt like no one could understand my pain, and I made myself suffer.”

Remi’s face fell into her palms and she began to weep. Her chest heaved as all the pain she felt began to soak the sand beneath her. She knew she was suffering; it was how she held onto him. Her suffering was the same as his suffering, and so she clung to it as if it was her only lifesource.

Laura watched in torment as her daughter fell apart, “I know how much you’re hurting, Rem. I wish he was here too.” With those words, Remi shifted closer to Laura. She pushed herself to continue, determined to deliver the message, “After a long time, I realized that my grief was damaging everything I was, and everyone I loved. I had to change before I destroyed my life.”

As Remi’s face brushed on Laura’s shoulder, she reached up with her t-shirt to wipe away the snot and tears bubbling from Remi’s face. They sat curled up on the sand, hearing the waves as they washed against the rocks and watching the moon move across the sky. Everything around them was preparing for a new day. The rocks, the trees, the ocean, the gulls; they would forget today and continue to grow, change, and exist in peace. Why is it so much harder for people to move on? We cling to dreams, to lost hope and loved ones; but all of those things leave us behind.

Laura had drifted off into a mesmerized daydream when Remi finally spoke, “What did you do?”

“Hm?” Her mother jolted.

“What did you do?” She repeated, “to move on?”

“Oh,” Laura collected her thoughts. “I started to look for the little things.”

“What does that even mean?” For a moment, Laura saw a glimmer in Remi’s eyes.

“It means that, rather than focusing on my grief, I was actively looking for positivity in my life. Like, the smell of coffee and that first sip in the morning…” She trailed off. “It made me feel warm. It gave me happiness.”

“What else made you happy?”

“Taking a hot shower. Watching you wipe your eyes when I woke you and kissing your father before he went on his run. I really loved surprising you with a kitten that one time and seeing your reaction when you realized that the black drawings on my skin were actually tattoos.”

Remi laughed; it burst from her lungs, bringing with it all the beauty she had hidden inside her for so long. “I just thought they were part of your skin!”

“You thought I was born with them.”

“I remember you said that you wish you had been born with them, and it would have saved you a lot of money.” Her laughter still rung in Laura’s ears, echoing off the walls of her skull and moving like a static shock through her body. She almost didn’t recognize the sound. “What else?”

Laura smiled at her daughter and took her hand. Bundled together on the sand, she told Remi every happy little thing she could remember. It wasn’t until the sun had started to peak over the trees to the East that they finally decided to walk back to the house.

Remi still clutched her mother’s hand as if it was the one thing keeping her upright. In a way, it was her only source of balance and a reminder that she was more than her grief.

Laura never let go, nor did she want to. Another happy little thing, she smiled at the thought.

This short story was originally published on my blog; Scribbleandscrawl.com