Believers Never Die Pt. 1

The tour I did in 1996 was not much fun. Like I said earlier, my parents' marriage fell apart that year, and most of it is a blur. There is one very distinct memory I have of my father. Perhaps it is the most significant. It told me a lot about his personality, but it is also the last memory I have of him until I was nineteen.

My brother and I were getting sick of the bus. We had been driving for a few days, if my memory serves me correctly. We were bored. Mother didn't care. She was too busy whining about the lack of shopping malls in our tour locations. My father, on the other hand, had noticed the obvious boredom we were so obvious plagued with and made an effort to do something about it.

He arranged for us to stop at a beach somewhere in New Jersey. It wasn't a very clean beach. It was also empty, but that was probably for my own good. The cleanliness didn't matter. We were finally off the bus. We had a few hours there but it was heavenly nonetheless. We played frisbee for a bit. Evan and I buried our dad in the sand. Well, we buried him up to his knees, anyway. It was sunny out, not a cloud in the sky, but amidst the salty breeze and sunny sky, I couldn't help but think about what was happening to my family.

Evan and Dad were running around the beach, laughing. Meanwhile, I had sat down in the sand, plagued by own thoughts, too distracted to do anything but draw lines in the sand with my finger. After a few minutes, my dad stopped running around. He smiled at me and called to me.

"Hey, Max!" he shouted. I looked up at him, squinting slightly to block the sun from my eyes. He was grinning wider than I had ever seen him. "Come here! I wanna show you something!"

With a smile, I managed to climb to my feet, brushing the stray sand off of my legs. I hurried over to my brother and father and met them at the edge of the water. I felt the remnants of waves rushing over my feet and withdrawing back into the ocean. My dad crouched down and rolled up his jeans. He started to wade into the water. He was only in about mid-calf. He watched the water intently for a few moments before reaching in.

He pulled out what he told me was a horseshoe crab. It was ugly. It was slimy and disgusting. It was writhing and struggling in my father's grasp. It wanted to break free. It wanted to go back into the water, back to the way things were before it was viciously pulled out of it's comfort zone, before my father had suddenly waltzed in and uprooted it's life.

I knew how it felt.

My father looked excited as he held it, showing Evan how it moved, what it's legs looked like. I couldn't help but frown slightly. My father look at me, and he held it closer to me. "Look, Max!" my brother exclaimed. "Isn't it so cool?"

I smiled at Evan and nodded a little bit. I looked to my father, and then I looked to the horseshoe crab. "Daddy," I said.

"Yeah, Max?"

"If we let it go, will we be happy again?"

My father stopped dead and fell silent. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

It was written all over his face that he knew we were doomed.