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The Ocean Girl
the weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I had ever learned.
Her name was Eliza, but we called her "the ocean girl". It's difficult to explain how the name came to be; it might've slipped off someone's tongue when she first moved here and we could see her, everyday after school, perched on the cliffs stretched out over our own personal slice of sea. It might've crawled out of her soul when I asked her why she spent so much time out there by the ocean, and she just shook her head, smile in the general direction of my shoes, and said, "How can you not love it?"
No, none of us were sure just how the ocean girl got her nickname, but we were sure that it described her perfectly, explicitly, without drawing any particular parallels. It wasn't her eyes, or the color of her hair, or the way she walked that made her the ocean girl. It's just- who she was.
Like I said, it's hard to explain.
"Explain it to me, Eliza."
The first time I asked her that, she just shook her head, a tiny smiled etched across her lips. She probably thought I wasn't ready to comprehend it. She was probably right.
"Come on, Eliza, just try. I think I can understand it."
"Of course you can't."
We met out by the sea every Saturday, and every Saturday I would ask her to explain what it was about the ocean that enthralled her so; every Saturday she shot me down with a gentle, knowing smile.
"Eliza. I thought we were friends! Friends can trust each other, you know. You can trust me."
"Jessica, it's never been about trust. I thought you knew that?"
It drove me insane, made me vicious, angry, irritable. For three weeks in February of our junior year, I couldn't stand to be around her. I abandoned her, left her to deal with the consequences of being a bitter, secretive bitch. She still went out every Saturday and had a private meeting with her patron saint. I went home and had a private meeting with jealousy and loneliness.
"Okay, Eliza. I've done what I can, and I've decided that, well, maybe this isn't something I'm supposed to understand, maybe it's something you can't explain, so I'm just going to stop asking. I'm sick of losing sleep over it. I'd rather have my peace of mind and our friendship back."
"That's it, Jessica! See, I knew you'd get there eventually. It's peace; it's security; it's this overwhelming sense that you're exactly who, where, and what you're supposed to be. That's what the ocean is. It's certainty, and assurance, and it's exactly who I want to be. I know who I am because of the ocean."
Did that make sense to me? Of course not. But I never doubted that she believed every word she said. Not for a moment.
We had agreed to meet out at our usual spot before graduation; it would be our last farewell to who we used to be, a clean-cut separation from what tethered us to who we thought we were. It would be the total upheaval of everything we though we knew.
I should've known something was horrible, was wrong, as soon as I arrived. I was dressed in the requisite black dress, but Eliza was draped over the edge of the cliff in only her swimsuit. I mean, yeah, we had joked about wearing bikinis to graduation, but we wouldn't have really done it--
"Eliza, what's up?"
She turned her head, body pressed flat against the rock by either gravity or the weight of the world. "Hi, Jessica," she said softly.
"I'm serious, Eliza, what's going on?" I began the treacherous journey over the cliff's pitted surface, trying not to take my eyes off her.
"Stop, Jessica. Stop right there."
"Like hell I will," I said, closing the gap.
"Goddammit, Jessica, stop."
I froze, and the little waves of concern that had formed in my stomach morphed into a sickening flood.
"Eliza," I said softly.
"Don't, Jessica," she said, sitting up, feet still dangling. "I know what I'm doing."
"Oh shit, Eliza, no, don't-"
"Stop," she replied firmly. "You won't change my mind."
"Change your mind- from what? What are you doing, Eliza?" I knew. Of course I knew, but I needed her to say it, maybe if she said it she would hear how ludicrous it was-
"I'm going to kill myself, Jessica," she said without a trace of trepidation.
I took in a huge, heaving breath that stuttered in like I was crying. "But why?" I said, choking on my own fear.
She just smiled and pushed herself to her feet. I lurched forward, but she held out a hand warning me to keep back.
"Graduation," she said, staring out into the horizon. "Time to discover who you're supposed to be. What a horrible thing to force upon such young people."
"Look, let me just go grab my phone out of my car, I'll call someone, we can talk about this-"
She jumped.
As she fell, I did too- I fell to my knees and scrambled those last few steps to the edge, and my scream broke the silence of the waves at the same time her body broke on the rocks below.
To this day, there are people that say she jumped because she couldn't handle moving out into the real world, couldn't handle having to find out who, where, and what she was supposed to be. That's not true, though, and it's the greatest injustice anyone's done her. Eliza wasn't afraid of the real world; She had figured out its secrets decades before the rest of us. And she wasn't worried about finding out who she was supposed to be; she already knew. That's why Eliza had to die. She didn't have anywhere to go but home to the ocean.
No, none of us were sure just how the ocean girl got her nickname, but we were sure that it described her perfectly, explicitly, without drawing any particular parallels. It wasn't her eyes, or the color of her hair, or the way she walked that made her the ocean girl. It's just- who she was.
Like I said, it's hard to explain.
"Explain it to me, Eliza."
The first time I asked her that, she just shook her head, a tiny smiled etched across her lips. She probably thought I wasn't ready to comprehend it. She was probably right.
"Come on, Eliza, just try. I think I can understand it."
"Of course you can't."
We met out by the sea every Saturday, and every Saturday I would ask her to explain what it was about the ocean that enthralled her so; every Saturday she shot me down with a gentle, knowing smile.
"Eliza. I thought we were friends! Friends can trust each other, you know. You can trust me."
"Jessica, it's never been about trust. I thought you knew that?"
It drove me insane, made me vicious, angry, irritable. For three weeks in February of our junior year, I couldn't stand to be around her. I abandoned her, left her to deal with the consequences of being a bitter, secretive bitch. She still went out every Saturday and had a private meeting with her patron saint. I went home and had a private meeting with jealousy and loneliness.
"Okay, Eliza. I've done what I can, and I've decided that, well, maybe this isn't something I'm supposed to understand, maybe it's something you can't explain, so I'm just going to stop asking. I'm sick of losing sleep over it. I'd rather have my peace of mind and our friendship back."
"That's it, Jessica! See, I knew you'd get there eventually. It's peace; it's security; it's this overwhelming sense that you're exactly who, where, and what you're supposed to be. That's what the ocean is. It's certainty, and assurance, and it's exactly who I want to be. I know who I am because of the ocean."
Did that make sense to me? Of course not. But I never doubted that she believed every word she said. Not for a moment.
We had agreed to meet out at our usual spot before graduation; it would be our last farewell to who we used to be, a clean-cut separation from what tethered us to who we thought we were. It would be the total upheaval of everything we though we knew.
I should've known something was horrible, was wrong, as soon as I arrived. I was dressed in the requisite black dress, but Eliza was draped over the edge of the cliff in only her swimsuit. I mean, yeah, we had joked about wearing bikinis to graduation, but we wouldn't have really done it--
"Eliza, what's up?"
She turned her head, body pressed flat against the rock by either gravity or the weight of the world. "Hi, Jessica," she said softly.
"I'm serious, Eliza, what's going on?" I began the treacherous journey over the cliff's pitted surface, trying not to take my eyes off her.
"Stop, Jessica. Stop right there."
"Like hell I will," I said, closing the gap.
"Goddammit, Jessica, stop."
I froze, and the little waves of concern that had formed in my stomach morphed into a sickening flood.
"Eliza," I said softly.
"Don't, Jessica," she said, sitting up, feet still dangling. "I know what I'm doing."
"Oh shit, Eliza, no, don't-"
"Stop," she replied firmly. "You won't change my mind."
"Change your mind- from what? What are you doing, Eliza?" I knew. Of course I knew, but I needed her to say it, maybe if she said it she would hear how ludicrous it was-
"I'm going to kill myself, Jessica," she said without a trace of trepidation.
I took in a huge, heaving breath that stuttered in like I was crying. "But why?" I said, choking on my own fear.
She just smiled and pushed herself to her feet. I lurched forward, but she held out a hand warning me to keep back.
"Graduation," she said, staring out into the horizon. "Time to discover who you're supposed to be. What a horrible thing to force upon such young people."
"Look, let me just go grab my phone out of my car, I'll call someone, we can talk about this-"
She jumped.
As she fell, I did too- I fell to my knees and scrambled those last few steps to the edge, and my scream broke the silence of the waves at the same time her body broke on the rocks below.
To this day, there are people that say she jumped because she couldn't handle moving out into the real world, couldn't handle having to find out who, where, and what she was supposed to be. That's not true, though, and it's the greatest injustice anyone's done her. Eliza wasn't afraid of the real world; She had figured out its secrets decades before the rest of us. And she wasn't worried about finding out who she was supposed to be; she already knew. That's why Eliza had to die. She didn't have anywhere to go but home to the ocean.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is the first thing I've written in a while. I tried to make it serious. I might've made it too serious. Regardless, I'd really love to know what you think, how I could improve it, etc. thank you for reading!