Someone Else's Ocean

When we pulled away, she gave me a sad smile. “That’s good enough.”

“Koti—”

“There’s nothing to say. Not tonight.”

I nodded.

“Take me back to bed?”

“Let’s go.”

I WATCHED HER SLEEP, TRACING her skin with my fingers. She stirred slightly, her hair askew and then turned to face away from me. The pain that tiny move caused was unbearable. No part of me wanted to leave her. No part of me wanted the life that waited. I’d taken a job and sold my house to move into a rental. My future idle and dependent on Ella’s. Decisions had been made, life was in order, my daughter was waiting. I had to leave. Koti stirred, and again I was graced with the sight of her face. She slept restlessly most of the time, her beautiful form flailing at all hours of the night. I’d been on the receiving end of some seriously rough hours but had grown used to it over the months on my side of her bed. The only time she fully stilled was when she lay on my chest. I pulled her into my arms to give her more peaceful minutes of sleep and she went instantly lax. I whispered my apology while she slept.

“What have I done to us? I’m so sorry.”

I let it happen. She played a part too, but in the end, I’d given her every part of me. She knew my every side, the small details, and I knew hers. We shared the things that made us significant and I’d allowed it, knowing how much it would hurt to lose it.

Aside from my little girl, life had never gifted me anything so beautiful. I knew every inch of her golden skin, had drowned in the icy-blue pools of her eyes and basked in her warmth. I’d pulled every sweet sip from her lips. We’d become magnetic and inseparable and I let it happen in my selfish haze knowing it would rip us to shreds to lose it.

She was my golden shore after the shipwreck that was my life and she’d loved me with her whole heart, only to let me break it.

“Ian! Where are you, Ian!” she cried as she raced around the house.

“Over here, Koti,” I said, gathering wood in the alley for the fire I was building us.

“I’m leaving. Mom says we have to leave early. I can’t do the bonfire with you.”

“Okay, it’s okay, don’t cry.”

“She’s making me go to the school camp, so I can make friends. I don’t like those girls. I told you about them.”

“I know. But you’re easy to like so just let them come to you, okay? Remember what I said?”

“Have fun anyway?”

“Right.”

She hiccupped as her chest heaved with her upset. “You’re my best friend. Don’t forget me just ‘cause you get bigger, okay?”

“I won’t. Besides, we’re neighbors. I will probably see you around sometime next summer. Right?”

She nodded and nodded. “Maybe you’ll come back, and we can be best friends again.”

I rubbed the top of her head and she pushed it away with a smile.

“Of course.”

“Okay, and you’ll make me s’mores again?” She was still crying but trying her best to be brave for me.

“Banana pops too.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it.”

She hugged me tight with her whole little body and let go just as fast. “Bye, crocky”

“Bye, puffer fish.”