Red Sea,

Mom took her last breath two minutes ago, according to the pink Timex watch she gave me for my birthday.  I wanted the purple one.  Tick. Tick. Tick.  Tick.  

Fresh blood trickled from her hairline, and down her forehead.  Scared, I watched it roll down her cheek.  "Mom," I tried.  I was desperate for her to breathe again.  "Wake up, mom." 

I squirmed in my seat, sending shooting pain up my back.  My seatbelt pinched my shoulder. 

Blood ran from the corner of her mouth. "Oooooooooh Jules," she coughed and spat blood out.  Her head rolled to face me. 

"Mom," I gasped. 

Her eyelids fluttered.  She hadn't opened them since she drove us off the embankment.  Blood trickled down from the side of her lip.  She gargled.

"It's okay, right mom?  They'll find us, won't they?" my voice pitched high on strained notes of desperation as I needed her to reassure me. 

She gave no response.  Her lids stopped moving but her continued moans let me know she was still alive.  That was something. 

It was so damn hot in the car,  I could smell mom's sweat.  It was the sweat of a middle-aged, premenopausal woman, laced with fear.  My sweat smelled like the innocence of pre-adolescence.  Innocence I clung to like lint on cotton. 

I closed my eyes intending to pray.  Instead, the accident came flooding back to me. 

The vodka bottle clanked against another bottle under her seat.  I saw her stash it there as I got in the car.  It wasn't the first time she'd slipped, allowing me into her secret world.  I think she was in denial over two things, that she had a drinking problem, and that I knew. 

I slammed the door. 

"What's your problem?" she questioned as if I was the one who had done something wrong. 

"Nothing," I replied.  Like she cared.  My feelings were wasted on her lately.  I was done with it all.  I wanted to make a run for it.  But I had nowhere to go.  A million times I went over different scenarios in my head, trying to find something that worked.  The ugly truth was, I was trapped.  Nobody cared about me.  Dad took off long ago, and no one in our family ever bothered with us.  Whenever we were forced to spend time with any of them, it was the same thing.  Hushed whispers whenever I walked into the room.  It was usually followed by red cheeks and lips pursed in some sort of pity look, only to end in downward gazes.  Oh, don't make eye contact with her, she wasn't good enough for her dad to stick around and her mom to stay sober.  She must be trouble, it's best just to pretend she's not here. 

"Wipe that snarl off your face." 

"Whatever." 

She put her foot on the gas.  Harder.  "You got some attitude lately, missy,"  she slurred. She was speeding down the street amid honking horns and hand gestures from other drivers, which I had grown accustomed to.  The tires squealed. 

"Mom, slow down." 

"You don't get to tell me what to do, not even when you start paying the bills.  Which, by the way, you will start doing when you get a job." 

She put her foot on the gas just as we took a corner.   "I'll tell you something else..." 

She yanked on the steering wheel but it did nothing.  Tires skidded as she put her foot on the brake.  We kept going, off the road and right over the edge.  The air under the car consumed us for a second, and we were flying.  We hit the ground below hard, causing the car to skip along and roll.  The roof caved, crumpling close to my head as we bounded down the embankment.  I thought if we rolled one more time, the roof would crush my skull.   

The car came to a stop on the third roll, laying on its side.  And here I was, trapped with mom again, hoping she would die, and yet panicked when she stopped breathing.  How messed up is that? 

"Stan, I don't feel good." 

"He's not here, mom." 

"Neck hurts...Stan help me." 

"Open your damn eyes mom, it's just us here." 

"Stanley, why do you let her talk to me that way? You know I don't like swimming.  Did you get the newspaper this morning?  I took the day off, let's go do something.  It sure is a nice day.  Just need to grab a show..." 

Her voice trailed off.  Her breathing rumbled, then stopped. 

Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  I watched the hands move slow.  A minute or so passed.   

I tugged on my seatbelt and as it came free, I struggled to keep from slamming into her, the woman who gave me life, the one who made it miserable, and the one who nearly almost took it more than once.   

I inched my way closer to her.  "Mom," I whispered.  Sweat seeped from her forehead.  I got closer to her, smelling the vodka, and looked away in disgust. Darn it all.  I had no idea what to do.   

Three minutes passed.   

"Mom," I shouted, panic-stricken.  "I can't do this without you.  Tell me, what am I supposed to do?"  I had to think.  Find her cell phone.  Where was her purse?  On the floor.  I stretched an arm out and took a deep breath and lurched forward, grabbing the strap.  Thank god.   I pulled it close. 

I grabbed the cell phone and flipped it open.  The battery symbol flashed red.  I dialed 911 and held my breath.  It rang.  The battery died.  I wanted to throw the phone but I didn't have it in me. 

She gasped.  Thank God she was alive.  I had to do something, but what? I knew time was running out.  I had to get to the highway, and flag someone down to get help.   

Through the pain, I tried to open my door but it was stuck and I knew I had to climb over her and out her side.   

I jammed myself up against the steering wheel and struggled to keep my weight off her.  The horn blew.  I laid on it, hoping to make enough noise for someone to come.   

"Stanley, my head hurts," she mumbled.   

"Sorry, mom," I said. 

She said nothing. 

She was breathing and I had hope.  When this was all over, I vowed to make things better with her.  Maybe with my support, she would get help.  Maybe for the first time in our lives, we could be there for each other.   Maybe, just maybe, we'd talk things through and heal. 

I steadied myself and climbed over her, elbowing her in the neck.  She gurgled.  I fumbled with her car door, opening it slightly. I tilted my head to the side and threw up. 

"Stanley...Stan," mom cried out, her voice dropping off. 

I fell out of the car and struggled to my knees.  I tried to stand but didn't have it in me.  I crawled my way around the car and heard cars whipping by in the distance, but the embankment was steeper than I imagined and I doubted I had the strength to make it up. I closed my eyes and collapsed as the sun beat down on me.  

Damn her and her drinking.  Damn Stanley who couldn't stick around.  Damn our family and their hushed whispers.  I was angry and suddenly went cold.   I started to shake, and looking up the embankment, knew there was no way I could make it.   

Could I make it back to the car?  What choice did I have?  I struggled to gain what little strength I had back.  I willed myself to crawl back down the hill.  Crawling down was easier than crawling up.  Making it to the bottom, I knew I was nearly out of energy, but forced myself back to the car.   

I listened to mom's gurgled cries for Stanley to help her and closed my eyes.  I couldn't even conjure the faintest image of him. He wasn't here with us now and wasn't coming.  Had I said that to her, or just thought it?  I didn't know. 

Still, with my eyes closed, the sounds of cars passing by from the highway, my mom's cries for help, and all other sounds slipped further away.  Then for a while, there was nothing.   

Why was I so cold?  I opened my eyes.  Darkness.  I was curled up next to the car in the fetal position.  Sleep was impossible and so I waited for the night to pass, on the edge of panic.   

I dragged myself to the window and pulled myself in enough to see mom wasn't moving.  Though the sun was just coming up and it nearly wasn't hot enough to sweat, her face was wet.  I strained to hear her breathe and heard nothing.  Was she dead?  Had I left her to die in the middle of the night? 

"Mom," I cried. 

I pulled myself the rest of the way in the car, failing to keep myself from landing on her. 

"Stan, are you there?" 

She couldn't ever let him go.  Had she ever even tried?  Things would be so much easier if she could get it in her head, and keep it there, that he took off on us, left us with nothing, and never looked back.  Not a phone call, a Christmas present, or a letter.   

"It's just me, mom." 

"Jules, what are you doing here?  You need to go before Stanley gets here.  He can't stand to look at you.  I'm sorry for what I done, sorry for it all.  I should have never done that.  Now go." 

"I'm not leaving." 

"Yes, now."  Her voice was stern for the first time. 

"Mom, there's been an accident and..." 

She cut me off. "Is Stan okay?"

"It's not him, it's us.  We...you drove off the highway." 

"Why?"  She coughed. 

The rain came. 

"So dry," she said. 

I was too.  We needed water.  Soon.

My stomach growled.  I flopped back to my side of the car and tried to get comfortable.  I was hungry and started rummaging around in the console. I flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed papers, letting them fall to the floor.  Something crinkled under my hand and I was grateful to pull out an open bag of ketchup chips.  I had stuffed them in there last week. 

I was tempted to shove them all in my mouth as fast as I could.  I reached in the bag and grabbed a big handful.  No.  One at a time, I thought, I've got to make them last. I let go of all but a few.  I stuffed the meager handful in my mouth and crunched without closing my mouth.  Mom always hated when I did that.  I reached for more, I couldn't help it.   

I was down to crumbs, licking my fingers and stuffing them into the bag when I realized it.  Mom was eerily still.  I looked over at her.  Her head drooped to one side.  I leaned in close to her, listening to her breathing.  I couldn't hear it.  I put my hand on her chest and couldn't feel a heartbeat.  "M-m-mom," I stuttered.  "Come on mom," I nudged her. 

Tick. Tick.  She still wasn't breathing.  I didn't know CPR but I pinched her nose, preparing to breathe into her mouth, as I had seen on TV.  I opened her mouth and got closer.  That's when she coughed.  Thank God.   

She was dying.  It occurred to me that I might be too.  What if they never found us?  I decided to write a note.  I looked for something to write on.  The papers I threw to the floor!  I bent over and grabbed one.  It was the take-out menu for our favorite Chinese food. I flipped it over.  The menu continued.  I decided to write over it.   

I looked around for a pen.  Most of the contents from mom's purse had spilled onto the floor.  I noticed her eyeliner wedged between the seats and struggled to reach it.  It would have to do.  What would I say? 

"In case we don't make it," I scrawled with a shaky hand.  In case we don't make it, what?  Tell our family we're sorry?  Say goodbye to Stanley?   

I looked at my ugly words and shook my head.  We have to make it, we just have to.  I looked at mom and thought our time was running out.  There was so much I never said.

Unable to finish, I put the note in the glove box and the eyeliner on the dash.  I closed my eyes.  How long did she have?  A few seconds?  Hours?  Days?   

Traffic rushed by from the highway above.  People were coming and going, living their lives.  None of them knew about us.  Could I somehow make them know?  Did I have the strength to try again? 

 "Mom, remember that vacation we took along the coast?  We shopped at all those cute little stores along the way.  And those pink sneakers you let me buy, I loved them so much.  Thank you for buying me those sneakers mom, I never said thank you." 

Her head moved a bit.  I kept talking.  "Remember that beach we stopped at along the way?  Those whistles you got?  Oh how we laughed, didn't we?  You said they were whistling at me, but they weren't.  I knew it.  You knew it.  You're so pretty, mom.  I guess I never told you that before.  And that beach had the warmest water. We had a good swim that day." 

"Um," she muttered.  I grabbed her hand and just held on to her for the first time in my life, I just held on to her because she was there and I loved her.   

 I leaned into her and fell asleep.   

Rain pelted the windshield.  The sound it made was soothing, like a lullaby only nature could sing.  I listened to it for a while before opening my eyes.   

Rain. 

I grabbed an empty cup and, reaching over mom, held it out the window. 

"Julezzzzzzzzzzzzzz." 

"Yeah mom, I'm right here." 

She was still alive.  I was still alive.  I swore to myself that when we got out of this thing, I would try harder.

I pulled out the take-out menu and with the eye-liner drew a line through “In case we don’t make it,”. Was there any need to leave a note now? I didn’t think so. Next to my previous words, I wrote a promise. When we make it out of here, I will try harder. I didn't sign it, there was no point.

“Julezzz, Julezzzz, Julezzzzzzzzzzzzzz.” She was moaning again. I set the note on the dash and held the water to her swollen lips. I tilted the cup back and as soon as she felt the liquid, her lips parted and she took a small sip.

“What are we going to do, Jules?”

“I don’t know, mom. What should we do?”

“We need to get out of this car, make it back to the highway.”

“We can’t.”

“We have to,” she whispered and I knew she wanted to yell those words to me.

“We’ll never make it. I already tried.”

“Help me out.” Her eyes fluttered open for the first time this morning.

Maybe if I helped her out of the car, she’d see it was impossible. We’d go just far enough for her to see we couldn’t make it.

Then again, this was the first time she seemed to be thinking clearly. She wasn’t calling me Stanley and babbling as if we were somewhere other than in this car wreck. Maybe she was right, maybe we needed to do something, sitting here was getting us nowhere.

“Okay, mom. I’m going to have to climb over you. Then I’ll open the door and pull you out.”

“That’s my girl.” Her low voice sounded hopeful.

I tried to be careful as I climbed over her, only elbowing her in the stomach once. She groaned in response. “Sorry, mom.” I opened the car door and got out. “Okay mom, I’m going to pull you out now.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” I drew in a deep breath of my own and let it go. I counted to three in my head and pulled on her arm. She was harder to move than I thought she would be. “Can you help? I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

I felt her struggle and when I pulled again, she put her arms on the seats and shoved off. She was standing outside the car, leaning on the door to steady herself. “I need a minute,” she said and I could tell she was struggling to keep herself upright.

I moved beside her and grabbed the cup of water. We stood there for as long as it took for her to gather her strength.

“Let’s go,” she finally said, leaning on me. Together we limped away from the car.

“You okay, mom?”

She shook her head and we kept going. We stumbled several feet more. We were at the bottom of the hill now. She looked up at the steep climb ahead of us. Abruptly, she stopped.

“We can’t do it,” she said. “We need to find another way.”

I looked around. “There is no other way,” I said, frustration growing and squeezing my stomach like a cloth wrung dry by strong experienced hands.

“We’ll cut through the woods. Over there,” she motioned with her head. “It’s not so steep there.”

I had no choice but to have faith in her. We headed to the left and into the woods. The rain had made the ground soggy and making our way through was harder than I thought it would be. The wind picked up and we swayed together under a tree. The sky grew dark.

“Rest.”

“Yes, mom, let’s sit and rest a bit.” We sat down in the dampness of the wood. I closed my eyes for a moment. I felt her hand slip into mine.

We stood up and walked along the beach. The sand was warm on my toes and it felt good. We walked hand-in-hand, just the two of us, neither of us speaking. It was our new beginning, and I think mom knew it too.

Someone whistled from behind and we turned around. The sun shone in my eyes, making it hard to see who was walking in our direction. Mom tugged on my hand and we walked on, closer to the one who was still whistling.

Impatient, she let go of my hand and ran ahead. When she closed about half the distance, she squealed his name. “Stannnley. It was you, all this time. I told them all you’d come back, you never really left, did you?”

I couldn’t see if it was him or not. Even as I got closer, I was still unsure.

He never spoke, just kept on whistling. Mom made it to him and threw her arms around him.

When I finally came upon them, I stared open-mouthed as my parents embraced. The sky opened up at their kiss. Rain pelted us, making me shiver. They didn’t seem to care, they had each other.

Something caught my attention and I looked out on the sea. It was the sea, but it was changed. At a great distance, something rode waves of red. The tide brought it closer, yet I still couldn’t make out what the object was.

Mom and Stanley were staring too. Closer, the thing got and I started to see the enormity of the object as it took shape.

Closer…closer… Finally, I made out the shape of a partially submerged car. Within seconds, it was in my full view.

One final thrust and the sea gave it up. Our car. I neared it. Mom and Stanley came too. Still holding mom’s hand, he opened the driver’s side door. A whoosh of red brought with it mom’s purse, and the remaining contents of it littered the sand.

I looked inside the car. On the seat was the take-out menu. My note had washed away. An empty liquor bottle floated in a few inches of red on the floor.

Stanley got in the car and pulled mom on his lap.

“Why?” I muttered. Stanley brought his finger to his lip to hush me and patted the passenger’s seat. He wanted me to come too. I hesitated. Where were we going? I looked skyward and noticed for the first time it was raining red. I looked at my clothes. They were stained red.

He patted the seat again. I looked out to sea. There were hundreds of bottles, wine, whiskey, vodka. All of them floated in with the tide, all of them containing folded-up pieces of paper. I picked a wine bottle up as it landed at my feet and pulled the cork out. I tipped it upside down and tried to grab the paper with my fingers.

Stanley grabbed my hand.

The decision was mine, not his. Something didn’t feel right about staying behind. Something didn’t feel right about getting in the car. I noticed the dozens of bottles flooding the beach. Stanley started whistling again. I looked at him. He stared at me blankly, whistling away.

I rounded the car and opened the door. With the bottle still in my hand, I flopped on the wet seat. Though I hadn’t touched it, the door slammed shut.

We sat there for four hours, according to the pink Timex watch she gave me for my last birthday. I wanted the purple one. The red rain nearly subsided altogether. I fumbled for the message in the bottle, but the bottle wouldn’t give it up. I had to know what it said.

The tide changed.

The dark shoreline disappeared from view. Water rushed the car and stole the bottle from me, as we bobbed and floated out, out, out. A wave of emotion washed over me and I felt I'd be at peace in the vastness of the ocean.

“You didn’t need to read that, not where we're going,” Stanley said and started whistling.

Tick.

A wave threw us above the water, and with one final, long whistle, we dropped heavily into the ocean.