An Ordinary Life

Chapter One

Friday Harbor,
San Juan Island, Washington
October 19, 1988

Fog has a way of dulling things; sounds, colors, moods. Everything but memories. It's settling quickly, wrapping everything in a misty, hushed embrace. Fingers of it creep along the pier and around the boats docked nearby. Ghostly phantoms, skirting just above the waters of Puget Sound, as the horn from the departing Washington State Ferry, rouses a flock of sea birds near to where I'm sitting. They rise as a single entity, their mournful cries disappearing with them across the sleepy water, slipping like ghosts into the fog.

My eyes shift immediately to my son, Edyn, as he plays in the sand by the waters edge. Ever watchful for hints of distress and impending breakdown, I watch him cover his ears and duck his head as if waiting for the sky to fall and my heart too, waits, as it has been waiting since the day of his birth.
After a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief as his attention returns to the sand and the waves calmly lapping at his tiny yellow boots.

As rain begins to fall, he turns his face towards the grey sky, catching drops of water on his outstretched tongue like it's some magical potion that draws giggles from little boys. My life. My everything. This child of perpetual motion and moody silences. He races up to me now and I try to catch his small hand but he dodges away and then he's spinning and spinning and spinning beneath the lowering sky.

The sound of a car horn draws my attention and I look over my shoulder to see my brother's old Ford pick-up settling to a stop at the curb beyond my bench.

"Hey, you two," Rhys calls, leaning down to see out the open passengerside window. "Need a ride home? It's really starting to come down."

I glance over at Edyn who continues to spin, his little arms now upraised, reaching as if he means to grab hold of the sky itself in his tiny, long fingered hands and I shake my head. "No, I think we're fine," I say, with a smile.

"Well, I was just about to drop some supplies off at the boat," he says, speaking of the old 55 foot behemoth tied up at the dock, rocking softly from side to side in the ferry's wake. That boat is his livelihood. With it, he, along with his wife, Julie, a marine biologist with a degree from California State University, Long Beach, run their business; Thornhill Wildlife And Whale Watching Tours Of San Juan Island.

"Tell dad I'll be by tonight to look at that light switch." He calls as he throws the truck in gear and starts pulling forward. Then stops, backs up. "You alright, Emerson?" He calls. "You look tired. Edyn okay?"

I get up off the bench, zipping my coat just a little bit higher against the damp chill and look over at my son, his loose chocolate curls glistening with rain drops like diamonds.

"He's fine," I say. "I'm fine. Like you said, I'm just tired, Rhys. You know how it is."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Rhys says, his voice already carrying the sound of exasperation. We have been over this so many times. "It never did. You can get the courts involved, Emmy. I can afford a lawyer for you now. Hell, dad would have done it for you years ago if you had just gone and told him the truth."

I shake my head. "You know that's not the way I want to go about it."

"Well, damn it, Emmy, that might be the only way to go about it!" The sudden anger and volume of his voice taking me by surprise and is something new and uncharacteristic. "He's three years old already," he says, nodding his head in my child's direction. How much longer are you going to let this go on for?"

I look down at the ground. "Don't you think I tried?"
I don't want to get into this now, here of all places. Even if, due to the weather, we are basically alone. I don't want to get all upset over something that's never ever gonna change anyway. "Do you realize the kind of media circus that it would create if we were to bring this to court?"