Under Lock and Key

25: Something Old, Something New

Something Old, Something New

Lee Clarke, May 1st, 1949, Crescent City

6:45 am

The sun was just barely peeking over the forest behind us. The beach was still dark.

I like it.

Of course, no one's here. But us. This isn't the kind of beach the boys back in school thought about. A few guys, wealthier guys, had traveled to the areas near Los Angeles or Malibu. They said those beaches were pleasantly warm, filled with sunshine, tourists eating ice cream and babies running around naked, with a surf line so low you could walk out into the ocean for almost a mile.

This is not that. Thankfully.

This is the ocean I've always known. Wild, rough, freezing cold, with rocky outcroppings bigger than houses. Tide pools filled with anemone and starfish. More sea snails and hermit crabs than you could possibly count. Old driftwood logs, battered and smoothed by the salt, perfect places to sit, and stare at the water, as long as you didn't mind wearing a jacket over a sweater, the fog thick. Maybe it would burn off during the day, maybe not.

I like it. Suits my mood.

"Get out of the water, you're going to freeze to death!" I shouted, unable to watch any more as Helen's feet and calves turned bright pink as she picked her way along the shoreline, her always present flowy dress hitched high in her arms so it stayed dry. Her blonde hair was loose and mess of snarls and tangles, in her face and and a halo around her head as the wind buffeted it this way and that.

She shrugged and came back to me, sitting on the rock near enough to talk but not close enough to keep warm. I wish she'd be more careful, her feet were bleeding, just a little, but still, in a few spots and they were literally red and rough from the cold water.

"Look," she held out her hand, and leaning over I saw her treasure. An oblong almost sphere, light lavender covered in white dots in a very organized pattern.

"Weird," I said, reaching out to hold it.

"Lee, you really should learn a few things about where we live, and not just cut down trees that are hundreds of years old to make furniture. It's not weird, it's a test."

It was so light in my hand. Very delicate.

"A test? Like a math test?" I knew what it was, but she was so fun to tease. She took everything so literally.

She grumbled, taking it back. "An idiot. My best friend is  an idiot. It's a skeleton, a shell, of a sea urchin. Normally covered in hard dark purple spikes. When it's dead, everything rots and leaves this behind. I think it's beautiful."

"You think death is beautiful?" I tucked my feet under me, sitting criss cross. Letting the wind blow my hair, but not loving the way my glasses fogged up. Without asking, Helen took them off my face and put them in a small protected case in her bag. Already filled with rocks and shells.

"Yes," she answered seriously. "Death is beautiful, Lee. It's a cycle of life and death and rebirth again. Someday you'll rot and your flesh will make the dirt alive again and ready for things to grow." She shrugged. "If we bury you in the forest. Where would you like me to bury you?"

"I don't know. I guess by then, I won't really care."

She frowned standing up, twisting her hair into some semblance of a bun, tucking the ends in on itself. Not to look fancy, but I imagine it was bothering her, whipping across her face.

"You're in a bad mood, Lee Clarke."

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"You're supposed to save your wishes for him, isn't that what you told me? In your dream, he said to save all your birthday wishes for him." Helen picked up her bag, and put her sturdy hiking boots back on, somehow not incongruous with her long dress. "Go ahead and talk to Kelly. I have to go home and help make your birthday cake."