Saltwater

by Jessica Andrews

There is a boiling. A burning. Acid-sharp. I know that I am bold enough now to be on my own but I no longer know if that is what I want. Not now. It seems not-right. I don’t want to be here with him who is missing, who has always been missing, who does not know how to hold. Who never held me. A dark shape with strange edges that I do not have a place to keep. And yet I must. Bury it. Seal it up. Trap it inside. 58 They were all due to get the same train back up north. I travelled to King’s Cross to wave them off. We hung around outside Pret checking the clock, half-expecting my dad to turn up. ‘I’m really not surprised,’ said my mother, when he didn’t appear. ‘He’s so selfish sometimes.’ My chest grew tight. The orange lights on the boards burned above our heads, listing all the cities soon to be stacked between us. ‘Let me know when he gets in touch,’ my mam said. ‘He will be okay, Lucy. He always turns up, eventually.’ The air around us began to shimmer. I felt an overwhelming