Ocean Breathes Salty
Buried Boxes.
The light around me grew brighter and then darker again as I danced somewhere between being conscious and unconscious. One moment I was hearing kids outside laughing, the next Hannah’s voice.
“Let’s go,” she said softly.
I followed her through woods. Her blonde hair swung in different directions with each turn she made. I just followed, curious where we were going to end up. She was wearing a blue dress that glowed among the dark forest trees.
“Meadow,” she called. She was further ahead now, I couldn’t keep up. “Meadow.”
I kept trying to catch up but my feet gave out. I couldn’t move anymore. I heard a few thuds. Something was pulling me back into reality.
“Meadow,” a deeper voice rang out. “I know you’re home.”
I sat up in my bed, rubbing my eyes awake. My room was dimly lit with just a crack of sunshine streaming in through the curtains. I was angry. Sleeping was hard enough for me to do these days, and it was the only place I ever got to see Hannah anymore. I wanted so badly to just curl back up and escape into my dream again, but I knew my body was fully conscious again. Finding Hannah again within my sleep cycle wouldn’t be possible right now.
Whoever was at the door knocked louder. “Meadow,” they said, annoyed.
I groaned and pushed myself onto my feet, stumbling to the door. I unlocked the hatch and swung the door open, momentarily blinding myself with the light from outside.
“What?” I asked, groggily.
John stood in front of me. He looked at least slightly better since the last time I saw him. At least he showered now.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I suddenly became aware of the mess my short brown hair had become during my nap.
“What do you want?” I asked again. I was confused as to why he was here, maybe to apologize for the other night, being awkward, or almost hitting me with a bat.
“Uh,” he started. His left arm clutched a box to his side and he raised his right hand to the back of his neck.
I sighed. I was growing even more annoyed now as I felt the cool air conditioning escape from my apartment into the Arizona heat.
“Well I just wanted to bring you this,” John said, holding the box out to me. “I found it with some of Hannah’s stuff. Figured you might want it.”
The box he held up was more than familiar to me. A shoebox covered in colored construction paper. ‘Cali’ was written in large green bubble letters across the top. Iridescent palm tree stickers were randomized around the rest. The edges of the cardboard box were fraying somewhat, construction paper lifting in some areas due to age.
Hannah and I put this box together when we were young. After a sleepover spent watching our favorite movie, Clueless, we decided we didn’t want to be anywhere other than California. We gushed over California fashion and California weather. We became obsessed. Hannah and I made a pact that we would stay together forever, eventually moving to the beach and living out our dreams. It was just wishful thinking when we were kids, but we really held onto it. We put all of the things we loved about California in this box. We cut out pictures of beaches from magazines. We held onto little facts about the state that we wrote down. Images of Marilyn and Audrey Hepburn. Anything that reminded us of our dreams, we kept it all in this box.
When we got to high school, our hope to move to the beach started becoming more of a reality. We became less like obsessed little kids and more serious about planning it out. Our little box of stuff disappeared as the internet became more readily available. This was my first time seeing it again.
I grabbed the box from John’s hands slowly. I was nervous opening the lid, nervous to be reminded of all of the things Hannah and I had kept over the years. When the lid was flipped over however, none of those expected memories were there. The pictures, the magazine clippings, even the state books we stole from the library. None of it was here. Instead, neatly stacked bills lined the box in rubber bands.
“What is this?” I asked looking up at John, confused.
“It’s the money Hannah was saving up for California,” he said. “She had mentioned it before, that she had money put aside.” He was stumbling over what words to say. I could tell he didn’t want to phrase something poorly to make me feel bad. I knew what he was getting at though. This was the money Hannah was saving to move to California. The money that she would have used for their wedding instead.
I shook my head and closed the lid to the box, shoving it back into John’s hands. “I don’t want it.”
“I don’t need it Meadow,” he said, “Hannah would want you to have it. It’s supposed to be for California, so take it for California.”
I felt my eyes begin to tear up. I didn’t want to think about California. I didn’t want him to tell me what Hannah would or wouldn’t want. I definitely didn’t want John here right now. And I didn’t want this pity money.
“I’m not going to California,” I said, before shutting the door in his face.
“Let’s go,” she said softly.
I followed her through woods. Her blonde hair swung in different directions with each turn she made. I just followed, curious where we were going to end up. She was wearing a blue dress that glowed among the dark forest trees.
“Meadow,” she called. She was further ahead now, I couldn’t keep up. “Meadow.”
I kept trying to catch up but my feet gave out. I couldn’t move anymore. I heard a few thuds. Something was pulling me back into reality.
“Meadow,” a deeper voice rang out. “I know you’re home.”
I sat up in my bed, rubbing my eyes awake. My room was dimly lit with just a crack of sunshine streaming in through the curtains. I was angry. Sleeping was hard enough for me to do these days, and it was the only place I ever got to see Hannah anymore. I wanted so badly to just curl back up and escape into my dream again, but I knew my body was fully conscious again. Finding Hannah again within my sleep cycle wouldn’t be possible right now.
Whoever was at the door knocked louder. “Meadow,” they said, annoyed.
I groaned and pushed myself onto my feet, stumbling to the door. I unlocked the hatch and swung the door open, momentarily blinding myself with the light from outside.
“What?” I asked, groggily.
John stood in front of me. He looked at least slightly better since the last time I saw him. At least he showered now.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I suddenly became aware of the mess my short brown hair had become during my nap.
“What do you want?” I asked again. I was confused as to why he was here, maybe to apologize for the other night, being awkward, or almost hitting me with a bat.
“Uh,” he started. His left arm clutched a box to his side and he raised his right hand to the back of his neck.
I sighed. I was growing even more annoyed now as I felt the cool air conditioning escape from my apartment into the Arizona heat.
“Well I just wanted to bring you this,” John said, holding the box out to me. “I found it with some of Hannah’s stuff. Figured you might want it.”
The box he held up was more than familiar to me. A shoebox covered in colored construction paper. ‘Cali’ was written in large green bubble letters across the top. Iridescent palm tree stickers were randomized around the rest. The edges of the cardboard box were fraying somewhat, construction paper lifting in some areas due to age.
Hannah and I put this box together when we were young. After a sleepover spent watching our favorite movie, Clueless, we decided we didn’t want to be anywhere other than California. We gushed over California fashion and California weather. We became obsessed. Hannah and I made a pact that we would stay together forever, eventually moving to the beach and living out our dreams. It was just wishful thinking when we were kids, but we really held onto it. We put all of the things we loved about California in this box. We cut out pictures of beaches from magazines. We held onto little facts about the state that we wrote down. Images of Marilyn and Audrey Hepburn. Anything that reminded us of our dreams, we kept it all in this box.
When we got to high school, our hope to move to the beach started becoming more of a reality. We became less like obsessed little kids and more serious about planning it out. Our little box of stuff disappeared as the internet became more readily available. This was my first time seeing it again.
I grabbed the box from John’s hands slowly. I was nervous opening the lid, nervous to be reminded of all of the things Hannah and I had kept over the years. When the lid was flipped over however, none of those expected memories were there. The pictures, the magazine clippings, even the state books we stole from the library. None of it was here. Instead, neatly stacked bills lined the box in rubber bands.
“What is this?” I asked looking up at John, confused.
“It’s the money Hannah was saving up for California,” he said. “She had mentioned it before, that she had money put aside.” He was stumbling over what words to say. I could tell he didn’t want to phrase something poorly to make me feel bad. I knew what he was getting at though. This was the money Hannah was saving to move to California. The money that she would have used for their wedding instead.
I shook my head and closed the lid to the box, shoving it back into John’s hands. “I don’t want it.”
“I don’t need it Meadow,” he said, “Hannah would want you to have it. It’s supposed to be for California, so take it for California.”
I felt my eyes begin to tear up. I didn’t want to think about California. I didn’t want him to tell me what Hannah would or wouldn’t want. I definitely didn’t want John here right now. And I didn’t want this pity money.
“I’m not going to California,” I said, before shutting the door in his face.