02 The Moon And The Tide - Marina's Tales (34 page)

When I arrived at the coffeehouse, I was
surprised to see there were only two paintings left hanging.

“Marina!” Bill cried when he saw me, “It’s
about time!” he gestured to the empty walls with a smile.

It was good to see his friendly face. Bill
made me a latte and I sat in his office while he told me about how
much business Megan was bringing in.

“She’s developing quite a following,” he
said.

“I knew she would.”

He stopped talking to study me, “How are you?
How was your vacation?”

“It got cut short,” I frowned, “I got back a
week early.”

“Bummer,” he said with a sympathetic nod.

“
Cie
la vie,” I
replied, throwing my hands in the air with an Evie-like
gesture.

He slid a fat envelope full of cash towards
me with a smile, “Let’s get some more paintings up on these
walls.”

We went out to unload the artwork and I
noticed a black sedan drive by us slowly. Was it the same one from
the neighborhood? I couldn’t see in the windows. It rounded the
corner and didn’t come back. I scoffed at myself, realizing that
Evie’s warning was making me paranoid. We got the paintings up on
the wall and they looked great, reminding me of good times spent
with Lorelei. I decided to go see her again.

I said goodbye to Bill, promising to come
back in a week.

“Enjoy what’s left of your vacation,” he
said.

I nodded, “Just leaves me more time to surf
and paint,” I said, and that’s what I did.

I passed the week in a daze of turpentine and
saltwater, holed up in my room like a wounded animal. I returned to
sneaking out at night, surfing with Lorelei until I was exhausted
enough to sleep most of the day. I pushed her to take me to the
wildest surf possible, taking reckless chances on big heavy waves
that left me bruised and sore. If Abby hadn’t forced me to eat I’d
probably have starved; I was grateful for the way she gave me my
space, letting me be as alone as much as possible in the small
house.

I slept most days, refusing to come out for
anything. Ethan kept coming around but I couldn’t bring myself to
see him or take his calls. I didn’t want to hear what he had to
say; it felt like something was broken inside of me and I simply
pushed it all away. I became as removed and dispassionate as a
shadow, refusing to acknowledge or examine my feelings. It was much
easier to just surf them away into the vacuum of the ocean’s
depths. My paintings grew dark as a result of my nights on the
waves, full of black water eerily lit by cold blue moonlight.

Reverting back to form, I spent all of my
time in self-imposed isolation. Megan and Cruz tried to get me out
of my room but I politely brushed them off, sleeping my days away
with the curtains shut up tightly. I only left the house to buy
paint, canvas and cat food, which I stashed by the stairs on the
way down to see Lorelei in the dark of the night. I spoke to my
father regularly, and he assured me he was getting stronger every
day, able to hobble up and down the halls on crutches.

I woke early Saturday morning to the sound of
Ethan working in the garden, and I felt sick, knowing I’d be forced
to see him at school on Monday. I paced like I was trapped in a
cage, nervously fidgeting until I heard his truck rumble away.
Snatching up my board, I raced down to the beach, unaware of
anything but my desire to get in the water.

Now I didn’t just crave it, I absolutely
required the sweet thrilling emptiness it brought my mind. The
scarier it was the better I felt, reveling in the danger, getting a
perverse thrill out of coming so close to the edge of disaster time
and time again. I whipped off my clothes and zipped on my suit,
plunging in and swimming out to sea.

Lorelei sprang up before I even called her
and towed me out to the cliffs without a word. I’d finally worked
up the courage to ask her if she knew how Joe had died. She wasn’t
even sure which one of the “bad people” he was, and her confusion
convinced me of her sincerity. I believed her when she told me
she’d only sent the sea lions to find me. I surmised the animals
had taken the matter in their own hands, and were simply protecting
their protectors. I resolved to put the whole ugly episode behind
me.

I looked up at the wild windswept bluff above
me. It was a beautiful rugged spot. This wasn’t too far from where
Ethan was going to build his house; I was hit with a pang of sorrow
that I willfully forced out of my mind to better focus on the task
at hand. The rocks of the cliff were being pounded by the wild
raging ocean, big surf generated by another round of spring storms
far out to sea. I surfed every wave that was even remotely
surfable.

A monster swell was building, coming from out
of nowhere. I sat on my board waiting, anticipating a great ride
when a peculiar feeling passed over me. Goosebumps rose on my arms
as I started to paddle out, rising on my feet to see the face of
the wave slant cleanly away from me.

I glanced up for a split second, shocked to
see a figure standing on top of the cliff, watching us. Losing
focus for a moment was all it took for me to drop into the trough
of the wave, looking up to see the wall of water crashing down on
me, pummeling me against the jagged rocks below. I might have been
killed if it wasn’t for Lorelei’s strong arm taking hold of mine. I
felt a hard jerk on my leash as my board smashed into a rock,
cracking into two pieces. We surfaced together, eyes locked in
shock.

“
Lorelei!
” I gasped, “
We need to
go!
” I looked up at the cliff and she followed suit, her eyes
bright with fear. She took my waist and swam me away as fast as she
could. I looked back to see a black sedan on the bluff.

I wasn’t being paranoid– I
was
being
followed! Lorelei took me back to Aptos, only to find the water
filled with surfers. She looked scared.

“
Don’t worry. I can swim in from
here
,” I said reassuringly, “
I’ll see you soon
.”

I balanced on the half of my surfboard I was
still leashed to and paddled towards the distant beach. There were
about a dozen surfers in the water and I had to swim past them to
reach the shore. I gritted my teeth and paddled with my head down
until the surf helped push me onto the sandy beach.

“Marina! Wait!” I turned to see Shayla
following me out of the breaking waves. I kept walking until I got
to my bag, relieved to find it still there.

“What happened?” she cried, looking at my
broken board.

“Rocks,” I said, busying myself getting
changed.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, “Are you
trying to get yourself killed?”

I paused and looked at her curiously. Was
I?

“I don’t know,” I said introspectively,
realizing she had a point, “but it’s starting to look that
way.”

“Marina, why are you being all like this?”
she looked at me scoldingly, “I’ve never seen Ethan so messed up...
Cruz told me what happened. You’re like, totally overreacting.”

I was suddenly outraged, “
Really
?” I
spat out bitterly, my voice getting higher and louder as I
continued, “He’s messed up? I was in a helicopter crash, I spent a
week lost at sea, my dad’s stuck in a Greek hospital, Evie’s gone
to God knows where, my whole life is one big lie, I’m being
followed by a creepy car and now
Mister Honesty
is lying to
me too! I’m overreacting?
YOU THINK?
” I heard myself yelling
and stopped, burying my face in my shaking hands, struggling to
regain control.

“Whoa!” Shayla gasped.

I took a deep breath and crouched down,
suddenly dizzy, “I’m sorry... I’m sorry...” I moaned, “I shouldn’t
take it out on you.” I reached over to retrieve my clothes.

“Hey,” she said gently, “I totally didn’t
know... are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I got up and started
dressing.

“Wait for me,” she said firmly, “I’ll walk
with you.” She went to her towel to change.

We trudged across the sand and up the stairs
silently.

“What happened to your dad?” Shayla asked
tentatively.

“His leg was broken pretty badly... they made
me leave him in the hospital.”

“That sucks. He broke it in the helicopter
crash?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said grimly, not wanting to go into
detail. I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Marina,” she grabbed my arm and said under
her breath, “Is the creepy car that’s been following you
black?”

I looked up to see the black sedan rolling
past Abby’s house slowly. We ducked behind some bushes and watched
it circle the block once and stop down the street, engine
running.

“Who is it?” Shayla asked.

“I don’t know… probably paparazzi,” I told
her how I had seen it the day before both here and at the
coffeehouse. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, for
whoever it was had just seen me with Lorelei.

“You mean it’s like, reporters?” Shayla was
impressed.

“Yeah, probably. The crash was big news in
Europe... because of my dad.”

“We should call the cops! There’s like, laws
against stalkers! You can get a restraining order...”

“Evie said I should call Boris,” I said.

“That would work too,” said Shayla. “He could
totally flip that car over!”

I chuckled, imagining Boris’ giant fists
pounding on the strange car. It was the first time I’d laughed all
week. We peeked out again and saw Ethan’s truck pull up. He got out
and made for the house. The black sedan drove away slowly and
didn’t come back.

“Come on,” said Shayla.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” I said,
suddenly scared. I was getting used to not seeing him and I was
afraid of how it would make me feel.

“Marina, you’re gonna have to face him sooner
or later... he’s like your family, remember?”

I walked to the house like I was headed for
the gallows. When we got close we could see Ethan sitting on the
porch. He stood up as we approached. He looked apprehensive and
then shocked when he saw my broken surfboard.

“Hi Ethan,” said Shayla nonchalantly, “Did
you see that black car that was parked over there? Marina’s got a
stalker! Hey! We should totally slash the tires next time we see
it!”

His eyes grew wider, “Can we talk?” he asked
me. He looked desperate, and I felt a sudden rush of sympathy for
him.

“OK,” I said quietly.

“Can we go for a drive?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No, we can talk here,” I
didn’t trust myself to think straight if I was alone with him.

“I’m gonna go check out what Cruz’s doing,”
said Shayla, going in without knocking.

Then we were alone.

“Can we sit down?” he asked.

I looked at the tiny bench and shook my head,
“No.”

I was poised to run in the house. I felt as
if a great chasm had opened up, dividing us. All the ease and
familiarity between us had vanished. I finally understood why Ethan
was so hung up on honesty. Trust was a fragile thing, and once
shattered, it was probably impossible to repair.

“I’m sorry,” he said cautiously, and I didn’t
doubt that he meant it.

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

“Cruz told me about the helicopter crash...
your dad... is he going to be alright?”

“Yes... eventually.”

“What happened?”

“We crashed,” I said.

“Like you saw in your vision? With the kid?
In water?”

I looked up at him and he knew. I looked away
quickly, shying away from his eyes.

The door flew open and it was Shayla,
“Marina! Check it out! You’re all over the internet! There’s even
video of you!”

Ethan and I exchanged a look and he went in
behind Shayla. Cruz and Megan were sitting on the couch with my
laptop and stunned looks on their faces.

“Oh My God!” Cruz cried, glancing up at me in
distress, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell you what?” I asked in alarm.

He set the computer on the coffee table,
“Look!” He clicked through some on-line versions of the tabloids my
father had shown me in the hospital with all their lurid headlines.
Ethan looked even more shocked. Then it was my turn.

There was a grainy, shaky cell phone video
that showed the red helicopter landing on the beach in Greece.
Boris stepped out, his huge hulk barreling through the crowd. You
could see him bend down, disappear from view and reappear with me
in his arms, returning to load me in the helicopter, looking behind
him menacingly.

“Whoa!” gasped Shayla, “Why was he
there?”

Ethan’s eyes met mine.

“There’s more,” Cruz said, clicking on
another video clip.

This one showed the crying child being lifted
onto the little skiff. The camera turned to me holding my father in
the water, his face full of shock and pain. I was speaking to him,
noticing the cameras. I tried to hide behind him but a peek of fin
was barely visible in the clear water– if you were looking for
it.

My knees buckled and I had to sit down.

The image zoomed in on me as I mouthed the
words “I love you” and slipped underwater, disappearing from view.
The boat blocked the image of my father and then zoomed out,
showing him being lifted out of the water, his leg bent at an
unnatural angle. He looked frantically around for me, as did the
other rescuers. The camera scanned the water, showing several small
boats circling around, men looking in the water desperately. The
video cut out abruptly.

I felt like I was going to puke. Shayla was
the only one who didn’t catch it.

“Whoa Marina! It says you’re like a hero! But
why don’t you have a top on?”

I jumped up and ran for my room, swallowing
back my sobs. This was bad, far worse than I had first thought. I
thought about the reporters in the black sedan. They were never
going to leave me alone now. Everyone would know I was a freak; I
was going to have to leave here. There was a knock on the door.