Island Of Second Chances

And now, the one thing he’d been clinging to for months, this race and this boat, weren’t even an option anymore.

He got about halfway down the stretch of beach near the condo and then slumped into the sand, suddenly drained of all energy. He watched the blue-green waves wash up on the shore, the sea foam bubbling against the wet sand, and wondered if he ought to just walk out to sea himself.

The waves rolled in endlessly to shore, and Mark let his mind wander once more to that dark place. Why wait until his trip around the world to get closer to Timothy? He could just get up on his feet and walk right into the ocean. Then all of this pain, all of this grief and loss, would end.

He pulled himself to his feet, not bothering to dust the sand from his shorts. Why bother? He whipped off his shirt and dropped it listlessly to the sand. Would someone find it? Would anyone even notice he was gone? Who would come looking for him?

Edward?

Laura?

The thought of Laura’s bright green eyes stopped him a second. He didn’t know why. He’d just met the woman. Yet something made him pause.

Her loud laugh? The way she’d run, drunk, down the beach away from him, her white, pale legs pumping hard as she sprinted away from her troubles?

But even she wasn’t enough. No boat. No race. No Timothy. It all felt so overwhelming and hopeless.

This time, he’d do it, he thought as he took a step forward into the warm Caribbean, the water lapping at his tanned toes. He took another step and he found himself ankle deep. Another two steps and the water lapped above his knees, warm, inviting. The solution to all his problems. If he couldn’t sail on the ocean to be closer to Timothy, then he’d get closer this way.

Did his boy walk out from this very spot? he wondered. He could have, midway between the condo and the natural, sloping dunes ahead of him.

Mark heard the seagulls calling and looked up, seeing the birds circling above him in the clear blue sky. Had that been the last thing Timothy had seen before he’d gotten swept under the waves?

Another step and he was waist deep. He could feel the sandy bottom with his toes, knew the drop off was coming soon, where it went from three feet to eight in a matter of inches. Tiny little silver fish swam around him in the ocean, glinting in the sun. Had Timothy gone after one of them? Delighted by their shine? Completely unaware of how dangerous the ocean could be, the water that would keep coming. The boy was too young to float. His life jacket had been abandoned on the beach, on the towel where his mother lay, eyes closed, drifting off to sleep.