THE GLASS LIGHTHOUSE-THE FORMATIVE YEARS (Old Stories, Teen Angst, Desire)
Three girls and two boys sat at a large booth at a popular breakfast spot downtown Ipswich. Lara looked out at the floor to ceiling windows that faced the street. The unexpected summer rainstorm had subsided temporarily, and people started to tiptoe past the restaurant, attempting to hop over flooded parts of the sidewalk. She fumbled for some matches as a cigarette loosely stuck to her bottom lip. Tim placed his strong hand on top of her miniature ones and shook his head slightly, gesturing to his lighter. She hated lighting her cigarettes with lighters. She felt that it took what little charm there was out of smoking.
Tim looked at her nails, as he lit her cigarette with his Zippo. He noticed that she started biting them again. There were even flecks of dried blood where the skin underneath the nail had been exposed. She smiled weakly. “Thanks,” she said softly. His stare was so intense, she thought. Everything he did was so intense. He squeezed her hand firmly in response, and she cringed slightly. He continued the conversation with Mariann, who was sitting cattycorner to him.
“Well, a merchant marine is like a trucker on the sea, only commissioned by the government.” Lie, she thought, and blew out a few puffs.
“Really?” Mariann seemed completely overwhelmed at this concept. “Is that something someone, like, goes to school for?” Tim scoffed at her.
“Come on, no. You just enlist, just like the Navy.” Lara started shaking her head at no one in particular, and smashed the butt into the brown enamel ash tray. She watched the smoke rise above the bits of left over tobacco, and settle into the light haze that filled the café. Lara looked at Mariann, curious to see what question she was going to get Tim to bullshit about next. The girl was about to respond to his comment, but instead took a moment to French kiss her boyfriend. Mariann’s best friend, Stephannie, who was sitting directly across from the kissing couple, and elbowed Lara.
“Yeah, I am going to have to put up with this every day in the dorms in a couple months,” the girl mumbled to Lara, noticing that Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise. Between listening to the sloppy kissing, that sounded like a dog lapping up water out of a toilet bowl, and Tim’s robust lies, Lara felt ill. So she did something that shocked everyone at the table. She contradicted her boyfriend, if quietly. It started with a heavy exhale.
“Were you going to say something, Sweetie?” Tim’s smile, which had felt calming and supportive to her at one point, now just seemed to exude condescension. She hated the pet name Sweetie. It made her feel like his waitress or something.
“Well…my dad went to school in Maryland to be a mariner, and worked on a ship commissioned by private shareholders…just saying.” She said this meekly, but looked back into Tim’s intense stare. He physically twitched, and his small blue eyes changed from a sugar sweet laziness, to an alert shock. He tilted his head slightly, and said flippantly, “Huh. Really? I didn’t know that about your dad.”
Stephannie finally spoke up. She had been nervously sipping her cup of coffee throughout the entire debate. “How did this even come up?” She twirled her thin blond ponytail around her finger. “I mean, who really fucking cares anyway.” Her voice slightly shook towards the end. The table fell silent. They had never heard Stephanie swear before. “Fudge,” was the closest she ever got. A busboy came by, collecting the condiments, dumping the ashtray remnants in a plastic bag tied to his belt loop, and shoving the bill setting on the edge of the table, closer to the group
“Guess that’s a subtle hint to get us out of here, hah!” Tim’s short loud laugh made Lara’s eardrums hurt.
“Baby, I got it,” Lara said, and quickly reached for the bill. Tim gave her an inquisitive look and mouthed the words Are you sure? She nodded and smiled at him, before placing a wad of bills on the table. She scribbled something on the back of her receipt and added it to the multitudes lining her cigarette tin. Tim smiled. One of his biggest pet peeves.
“Are you doing research for an economics class or something?” he would ask her, exasperated.
The group scooted out of the vinyl booth, and tumbled into the street. The drizzle had begun again. Mariann’s arms were wrapped tightly around the waist of her lanky boyfriend. She complained about his ribs jabbing her in the boob. This made him blush. The fog nestled into the corners of the street, and the old lighthouse in the distance was barely visible.
“What are you guys up to now?” Mariann asked Tim and Lara. Tim looked at Lara, and began running his hand up and down her back.
“I don’t know. It’s up this one.” He said, nodding at Lara. Lara felt like Tim’s voice belonged to a forty-seven year old sailor. It was much too deep and firm for being seventeen. Lara just shrugged, watching the mist settled onto Stephanie’s bangs.
“Haha. We could go mess with Crazy Sally,” said Mariann. Everyone chuckled.
“Lets do it.” Said Lara, the tone of her voice solid for once. Tim stopped rubbing her back, and reached around to look her in the face.
“Dude. What’s with you today?” She looked down at his Chuck tennis shoes.
“I don’t know, I’m bored.” Lara looked up quickly, and said, “You don’t have to come, I’ll be cool by myself.” Tim rolled his eyes at her. He wondered what she was trying to prove.
“Fuck it, Lara, lets do this.” That sugary smile came back. He turned around to face the others, “You guys down, or what?” The rest of the group looked stunned. Was Tim really serious? Finally Mariann laughed.
“Ha. Jesus, Lara, are you for real? You know I’m always game for an adventure.” Stephanie shifted her eyes timidly, but still followed, as the couples meandered down the sidewalk
The wind was strong at the docks. The storm had knocked down half of the trees, and branches were skittering across the boardwalk. Lara looked down the coastline and watched blankets of wilted leaves splashing onto the shore. All that stood between the group and the decrepit lighthouse was the moss-covered rock pier made from crumbling granite boulders. The rain started to poor down hard. It was freezing rain, and when it hit Lara’s cheek it stung. Freezing rain in July didn’t make sense, but no one mentioned it. In fact, none of them said anything at all. The only sound that could be heard was the frozen drops shattering against the boulders, icy water, and slick pavement.
Mariann was the first one to speak. “Well this is kinda lame, and my sweatshirt is soaked.” Stephanie whimpered in agreement. Tim, slid back the useless hood of his sweat shirt, and rubbed his short auburn hair.
“Yeah, lets get out of here.” He squeezed Lara’s hand, and tried to pull her away from the pier.
“No, Im gonna go over there.” She said this soft but firmly, and twisted out of Tim’s grasp.
“Are you fuckin insane, Lara? Look at it out there!” He violently gestured with his hand at the ocean. Everyone couldn’t help but look at what was in front of them. Seven foot waves were crashing on the break line, which just happened to be two thirds of the way to the lighthouse. Although the fog draped over the entire area, parts of the passageway could still be made out. Lara couldn’t help but feel like this was a sign.
“Tim, I crossing over so fucking leave me alone!” She yelled over the bellowing wind. Nonetheless, her words cut a cavern of silence into the pelting rain. No one said another word, as she walked towards the rocky path. Lara thought she heard Tim say I love you, but she reflected it could easily have been fuck you.
On the very first step, Lara slipped and almost fell on her back. She imagined Stephanie was clutching Mariann, and squealing, while Tim was giving her that overbearing stare. Once she regained her balance on the sopping rock, she looked over her shoulder, eager to prove that she was capable. However, the fog quickly swept away any signs of her friends, as it slyly coiled around her.
Lara sighed. It was down to her, the storm, and God knows what beyond that. About 500 yards to the building, she guessed. The first several steps were easy. She took her time picking out the next foothold, looking for flat, sturdy rocks. Then the wind shifted its course.
Lara could have freaked out, trembled, started sobbing, or most definitely, fallen into the water to drown. Lucky for her, she felt excited. The shift came in the middle of her next step, and she literally felt herself lift off the ground for a moment. It reminded her of being a little girl and jumping off of the swing set at the park at the top of the arc and being catapulted into the sand pit. She remembered laughing so genuinely by herself, until her mother came over yelling at her because now she had to brush the sand out of her espresso-colored ringlets.
Lara realized that this memory made her physically smile. She crouched down onto her perch to avoid being swept into the sea. Her smile turned into thankful laughter, and she yelled up at the sky. Not knowing what to say, she just howled like a teenage coyote. Taking the ultimate risk, she decided to use the wind and sprint over the rocks after the next wave crashed into them.
As the wave descended, Lara realized that she was too close. She had barely enough time to grasp a hold of the rocks with her numbing fingers and say under her breath, “ Oh crap,” before buckets of icy saltwater crammed down her throat. Lara could no longer feel her fingers, and so had no way of knowing if they managed to cling to the hold. She had always romanticized drowning as an underwater dream sequence or acid flashback. She knew this was not based in reality, but doing the breaststroke along with Flipper and clown fish just seemed natural, and somewhat lovely. Like Ophelia drifting in her beautiful gown.
Lara vowed to never again romanticize death, and also purchase the entire “ Survival Guide Series” that she had laughed at, when she passed the display on her way to the coffee shop in the store. Storms, earthquakes, zombies…they covered all the bases.
“Zombies? Seriously, Tim, who buys this crap.” She had told him.
“Dude. WWZ could happen,” he mumbled, and smirked at her.
Having her head smashed against the rocks made her forget about Tim for a minute. The heat she felt on her temple, made her conscious that she was bleed under the wave. She knew she was going to lose consciousness at any moment, whether from her split head, or the saltwater sloshing in her lungs.
Then it ended. Lara peered around her. She somehow had landed on the porch of the lighthouse. Looking up she saw the cracks in the glass, and wondered if Crazy Sally still lived here, or if it was just a story her sister liked to tell her.
According to her sister, Crazy Sally was about eighty years old, and literally never left the lighthouse. No one really knew her origin, or why she went insane. Nonetheless, no one could remember a time when she wasn’t living in Ipswich. From time to time grandmothers would leave corn chowder and tuna casseroles at the porch before scuttling away. Teenagers would throw cans at the windows. Schoolchildren would crouch near the rocks, waiting for an opportunity to see her appear at one of the windows.
Lara could hear her name being called. She looked toward the boardwalk. The storm had suddenly ceased, and the fog had cleared. Tim was barking her name, and Mariann was waving her in. She slowly waved back at them before knocking on the metal door. She heard light footsteps echoing on the staircase within. Quickly, something inside of Lara told her to leave. She heard a rusty lock turn. When was the last time this door had been opened?
“What the fuck. I think Lara just knocked on the door!” Tim shrieked. Mariann was the only one left on the shore with him.
“Something isn’t right, Tim.” She said, and clung to his arm.
“LARA.” He howled, hoping she would come back.
“Tim! The door is opening.” Tim felt Mariann’s nails dig into his skin. For once, he was glad Lara bit her nails so much. “Omigod. What the hell? I think I smoked to much weed this morning.”
A small child with espresso-colored ringlets answered the door and took Lara by the hand. The door slammed, the metal crash echoing all the way to the boardwalk. Tim ran down the slippery bridge. He fell four or five times, but after each fall, he scrambled to get up, letting the blood flow from his cuts. He pounded on the metal door, yelling Lara’s name. He could only hear his own voice echo. No voices, no footsteps, no sound came from within. As he looked around for something with which he could bash in the door, he saw her cigarette tin floating near a rock. He trembled when he picked it up, not knowing why. Opening the case, he saw the receipt from this morning. Lara’s horrific handwriting spelled out: Tim, don’t look for me. I never really loved you.
