A Toe in the Water
by Renay Allen
I step to the seashore. It’s raining… again. Froth lingers at the edge, discoloured a putrid yellow as if the waves have been out on the town and drunk a little too much.
“What’cha doing girl?”
“Trying to find a way not to go back. You would think I’d be ready by now, that I’d be used to getting the call.”
“Singing the blues ain’t gonna change things.”
“If I avoid answering another second, and another, am I not forcing events to be different?” Waves lapped over my toes, ridiculing my pathetic efforts to defy the inevitable.
“He’ll just drag ya back; not the type to let go easily is he.”
I watched him step onto the rocks, joining the crabs and tiny molluscs sheltering in the pools hidden by mist. Too close, my black haired one. So far away. “Fresh water and brine, the pair of ya. Got too much a mind of ya own. That’s your problem.”
“I’ve not understood anything yet.”
“I’d never leave ya muddled,” he said gruffly.
He grunted and faced me. “Tell me ‘I do’.”
“The water rises.” I sighed and braced myself, or let go, sinking down into the sand as it slipped away beneath me. “What would you do?”
“Hang out with someone who doesn’t have a massive stick up his butt.”
I dipped down, and let the torrent take me. “Maybe fisherman, but if he hears you cast your line like that, you might discover my father’s trident finding yours.”