Beyond That, the Sea

by Laura Spence-Ash

Together, they would always be fifteen and seventeen, on the cusp of something. How sweet that moment is, that moment of before. When anticipation is everything. When everything is new. When there are no consequences, when there is no after.

She could no longer imagine the two of them together. This thing she had thought about for so many years. This thing that she had wanted. They no longer belonged together. And she knew that he knew that, too.

Messiness isn’t quite the right word, but he doesn’t know how to explain what he’s feeling. An emptiness, a longing for something, but he’s not sure what it is.

just wanted—we all just wanted—you to be happy, she says out loud, talking up to the blue sky. Why is that difficult for so many people to achieve?

William was just one of those people who can’t ever quite find happiness, no matter what.

She has never thought of herself as an optimist, but she’s grown to understand that she is one, at least when it comes to love.

When you look back, it’s so easy to see the path that you’ve traveled. But looking forward, there are only dreams and fears.

I had four parents, she says. I think a little of each of them is in me, in some way or another. It’s a nice thought, though, isn’t it, she says, turning toward him and away from the darkening sky. Dead or alive, we carry these people with us. Your father is always with me.

This is the place that feels like my home, she says, no matter what I try to tell myself, no matter how hard I work to be at home there. I became who I am here. And I’m so happy to be able to come back.