Surge

So I went down to Venice Beach. Most of the time there was more life around than you could even handle there, and today was no exception. With the weather changing into summer, tourists had started to flood the Boardwalk again, street vendors sold their handmade items, men and women flexed at muscle beach, and a few surfers crawled in and out of the water in wetsuits.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to walk out onto the beach and stare at the ocean or at the people. Staring into something beautiful but too eternal and vast to comprehend would only make me contemplate the end. I kept my back to it and was the only person on the beach facing the town instead.

But I liked seeing the people. I wanted to see the smiles on their faces as they passed the native Mexicans with their clary sage burning. I wanted to see the skateboarders, pretending to look nonchalant when I knew damn well they had to concentrate to navigate the winding path on their cruisers. I wanted to see the woman having an argument under a palm tree with someone on her cell. I wanted to see the runners, the cyclists, the families holding their children’s hands tightly because they’d read about Venice Beach’s rough past.

I wanted to see life happening.

Life was happening.

I took out my guitar, but for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to strum out chords, putting them together into patterns. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play something old and familiar. I plucked without purpose, staring at the people of Venice. In front of me was the human fabric of pain and pleasure, rich and poor, black and white, young and old, fit and feeble… you name it, it was there. This place was a melting pot of everything the human existence ever had to offer.

It hit me. When Dixie had said to keep living, she’d meant to keep living. And life comprised of opposites. The bad shit was life, too. If I cut that out, I’d be nothing but a paper doll for the next year.

I’d stopped living my life before the clock even stopped ticking by wanting to control the flow of what was meant to be. And no matter how hard I tried anyway, there was nothing more I could do.

I gave my strings a strum.

Except there was.

Another strum.

And I’d been a fool.

I picked up my cell and FaceTimed Maeve.

When she picked up, her eyes were red-rimmed. “Hey.” Her voice was rough like sandpaper.

“Hey, Fairy.”

“Where are you?”

“Venice.”

She only blinked in response. It felt like I’d called her mid-cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran off…”

“You don’t need to apologize. I knew something bad was going to happen when we told you. I went behind your back but I had t…”

“You had to. I know. You did it for my own good.”

She nodded.

“Come meet me here. I was going to take you on a date tonight. You okay with Venice as a spot?”

She nodded again, and this time, a smile made it to her lips.

“Park over on Abbott Kinney. See you in an hour or so. Just call when you’re parked up.”

“Okay.” She sniffed.

“I love you, Maeve. You’re everything good in my life. It’s gonna be okay.”