Harbour Lights
tell me, did you sail across the sun
"He has the most amazing eyes," Chante gushed over lunch the next day, "and he's so funny."
"Yeah," Marilyn agreed, although she was hardly paying attention. She sipped her black raspberry smoothie slowly as she stared off in the distance towards the beach, wishing that Chante would hurry up and finish her food so that maybe they could head down there. But Chante's lunch was far from finished; she hadn't had the chance to take more than five bites since she wouldn't stop talking about Adam.
"He's just absolutely amazing," she sighed. "Did you know that he's in a band?"
Marilyn almost rolled her eyes. "I had no idea," she said dryly.
"Wha – is that sarcasm I hear?" Chante asked coyly, smirking slightly. "I see I'm rubbing off on you, ma chérie.You're never sarcastic."
Marilyn just shrugged, blushing slightly. She was usually quiet and kind; being a smart ass was not in her nature. She didn't used to be so shy, though. She used to be loud and fun and she laughed a lot...but that was a long time ago.
That side of her personality had died along with her feelings for Will. When she left him, she left the old Marilyn as well. Now she was a different person. So much had happened in the past two years, and she wasn't sure if she could ever return to being so carefree.
She was eighteen back then, barely an adult, and looking back she felt more like a child than anything else. When she left Ogunquit she had undergone a drastic change; now she was more...what was the word she was looking for? Timid? Boring? Mature? Mature. She was more mature.
She liked to believe that going to Europe had made her an actual adult. She wasn't a baby anymore. Ogunquit was her nest, her crib, and she had finally summoned the courage to leave it behind without looking back. She didn't have fun like she did two years ago...but wasn't that what growing up was all about? Wasn't this the way it's supposed to feel?
Deep down inside she sort of knew that she didn't like this feeling. Growing up didn't make her feel like a better person – it made her feel empty. She wished that she could go back to her reckless days of high school, when she could forget all of her responsibilities and go to the beach or hang out at the lighthouse or just do nothing for five hours.
But there was no point in wishing, not when she had gotten this far. Looking back would be useless.
Marilyn had gotten used to suppressing her emotions, and now was a good time to put that skill to use. She ignored the fact that the child inside her yearned to escape; instead, she pretended that this whole growing up thing was what she wanted. She pretended that she needed it. She pretended that she liked it.
Marilyn Day was living a lie.
"You're quiet today," Chante commented, interrupting Marilyn's thoughts. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
Marilyn tilted her head to the side and thought about this briefly. "No," she finally answered.
"Is there a question you want to ask me or anything?" Chante pressed. "You look awfully thoughtful about something."
She shrugged and shook her head no.
"Well, all right then," Chante said. "In that case, though, I have a question for you."
"Shoot," Marilyn said.
"Why did you come home?"
It was like déjà vu. Yesterday Will asked her why she left; today Chante asked her why she returned. Both were questions that were hard to answer. Unfortunately, Marilyn couldn't just walk away like she had done yesterday.
"I don’t know, Chante," Marilyn sighed after a full minute of silence.
"Oh, come on, Marie," Chante said. Marilyn absently noted how much she liked Chante's nickname for her; her French accent made her name sound so pretty. And it didn't sound anything like Mare or Mary, which was what some people from around here called her. Marie was different, it was new; just like Marilyn was herself. Because of this fact, it seemed to fit her better.
"I know there's a reason," Chante continued, "because you always do things for a reason. I know you, Marie. Is there something you miss here, in Ogunquit?" Her accent made her mispronounce the town name and Marilyn had to refrain from trying to correct her. "Or someone?" Chante added.
"I thought there was," Marilyn finally answered, giving in to the puppy dog face her friend was giving her, "but I'm not so sure anymore. I was hoping to come home and have everything be the same, but…it's changed."
"Everything changes, ma chérie," Chante answered simply. "You did, too."
"I know," Marilyn sighed somberly. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I didn't."
"And you wish Will didn't either, don't you," Chante murmured. Her words weren't posed as a question; she knew that this was a fact. Chante was Marilyn's best friend, and she could read her like an open book.
Marilyn didn't respond to that.
"I didn't know him before," Chante continued, "but I can assume that he's changed a lot. And you miss the old him, the boy before he grew up. Am I right?"
This time Marilyn did answer, though she managed to avoid addressing the main question. "Well, he has changed," she agreed, "but he hasn't grown up."
"Yeah," Marilyn agreed, although she was hardly paying attention. She sipped her black raspberry smoothie slowly as she stared off in the distance towards the beach, wishing that Chante would hurry up and finish her food so that maybe they could head down there. But Chante's lunch was far from finished; she hadn't had the chance to take more than five bites since she wouldn't stop talking about Adam.
"He's just absolutely amazing," she sighed. "Did you know that he's in a band?"
Marilyn almost rolled her eyes. "I had no idea," she said dryly.
"Wha – is that sarcasm I hear?" Chante asked coyly, smirking slightly. "I see I'm rubbing off on you, ma chérie.You're never sarcastic."
Marilyn just shrugged, blushing slightly. She was usually quiet and kind; being a smart ass was not in her nature. She didn't used to be so shy, though. She used to be loud and fun and she laughed a lot...but that was a long time ago.
That side of her personality had died along with her feelings for Will. When she left him, she left the old Marilyn as well. Now she was a different person. So much had happened in the past two years, and she wasn't sure if she could ever return to being so carefree.
She was eighteen back then, barely an adult, and looking back she felt more like a child than anything else. When she left Ogunquit she had undergone a drastic change; now she was more...what was the word she was looking for? Timid? Boring? Mature? Mature. She was more mature.
She liked to believe that going to Europe had made her an actual adult. She wasn't a baby anymore. Ogunquit was her nest, her crib, and she had finally summoned the courage to leave it behind without looking back. She didn't have fun like she did two years ago...but wasn't that what growing up was all about? Wasn't this the way it's supposed to feel?
Deep down inside she sort of knew that she didn't like this feeling. Growing up didn't make her feel like a better person – it made her feel empty. She wished that she could go back to her reckless days of high school, when she could forget all of her responsibilities and go to the beach or hang out at the lighthouse or just do nothing for five hours.
But there was no point in wishing, not when she had gotten this far. Looking back would be useless.
Marilyn had gotten used to suppressing her emotions, and now was a good time to put that skill to use. She ignored the fact that the child inside her yearned to escape; instead, she pretended that this whole growing up thing was what she wanted. She pretended that she needed it. She pretended that she liked it.
Marilyn Day was living a lie.
"You're quiet today," Chante commented, interrupting Marilyn's thoughts. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
Marilyn tilted her head to the side and thought about this briefly. "No," she finally answered.
"Is there a question you want to ask me or anything?" Chante pressed. "You look awfully thoughtful about something."
She shrugged and shook her head no.
"Well, all right then," Chante said. "In that case, though, I have a question for you."
"Shoot," Marilyn said.
"Why did you come home?"
It was like déjà vu. Yesterday Will asked her why she left; today Chante asked her why she returned. Both were questions that were hard to answer. Unfortunately, Marilyn couldn't just walk away like she had done yesterday.
"I don’t know, Chante," Marilyn sighed after a full minute of silence.
"Oh, come on, Marie," Chante said. Marilyn absently noted how much she liked Chante's nickname for her; her French accent made her name sound so pretty. And it didn't sound anything like Mare or Mary, which was what some people from around here called her. Marie was different, it was new; just like Marilyn was herself. Because of this fact, it seemed to fit her better.
"I know there's a reason," Chante continued, "because you always do things for a reason. I know you, Marie. Is there something you miss here, in Ogunquit?" Her accent made her mispronounce the town name and Marilyn had to refrain from trying to correct her. "Or someone?" Chante added.
"I thought there was," Marilyn finally answered, giving in to the puppy dog face her friend was giving her, "but I'm not so sure anymore. I was hoping to come home and have everything be the same, but…it's changed."
"Everything changes, ma chérie," Chante answered simply. "You did, too."
"I know," Marilyn sighed somberly. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I didn't."
"And you wish Will didn't either, don't you," Chante murmured. Her words weren't posed as a question; she knew that this was a fact. Chante was Marilyn's best friend, and she could read her like an open book.
Marilyn didn't respond to that.
"I didn't know him before," Chante continued, "but I can assume that he's changed a lot. And you miss the old him, the boy before he grew up. Am I right?"
This time Marilyn did answer, though she managed to avoid addressing the main question. "Well, he has changed," she agreed, "but he hasn't grown up."