Sea Side

I had met Flynn in the great slushy womb of the sea. As a child, my family had owned a small, but sturdy, home near the sea. I love the sea, I think. Its tranquil waves engulf all. An electric blanket of liquid.

Flynn had appeared in a sun-kissed glow, a light bulb. My memory of meeting him is spotty, however. It was an early, cold February morning. I – at age thirteen – had gone for a short swim. I never swam out far, the water usually sloshed against my knees. This morning was different. The idea of swimming out beyond the normal barrier had struck my fancy, a thought implanted that would get me smothered. I didn’t handle the violent turquoise tides all too well. They had swirled my small body into a whirlwind of bubbles and water. I felt so mangled and fragile. I was nothing to the Great Sea.

Soon after I lost consciousness, Flynn appeared. He had dragged my soggy, pale body to shore. He gave me CPR; I guess he was my first kiss in that sense. Flynn was my first in a lot of sense. I remember coughing in his face, spewing spit and foul water from my stomach. His appearance had matched that of the sun; bright, beautiful, and brilliant. After emptying my guts onto him, Flynn had offered to give me a ride home, call my parents. I had refused profusely. Thirteen year old Annie was not going to face the hot rage of swimming outside her limits.

Flynn was going to be a lifeguard; he was all into that protection shit. I never understood him in that way. He ended up driving me home; sixteen year old guys with wheels were always my favorite. I made him pinky swear to not rat me out to anyone. He did. That was the beginning of everything, I think. The beginning of Flynn Corbett.