Blue

High Tide

Adam's Saturday shift was nothing more than an extreme practice of controlling his rage at all of the tourists in the sandwich shop. He made it through the entire shift without yelling at anyone, in part because of the constant threat of Tammy's watchful gaze throughout the six hours that he served food. By the end of the shift, he was ready to strangle her.

"Tammy, I'm not coming in for my shift tomorrow," Adam said. She jumped slightly. She had been staring at him for so long and for so hard that she'd likely zoned out a bit. She narrowed her eyes at him. He could see her angry refusal to let him quit start to swell up in her like a cresting wave; she straightened and rose up, opening her mouth to let him have the force of her anger.

"I'm not quitting," he said quickly. After Tammy had walked him home last night, she had sat him at the table and taken his Grandmother into the side room, shutting the door swiftly behind the two of them. They had stayed in the room, talking so quietly it was almost like they weren't speaking at all, for about twenty minutes before Tammy exited the room, patted his head like he was twelve again, and left the house.

His Grandmother had given him an earful last night, so, as much as he would have preferred to quit, he knew there was no way on this earth he was going to be able to stop working at Tammy's Sammies until Tammy gave him the go-ahead.

"Is it because of the moon tomorrow?" she asked him quietly. He sighed, pulling the apron off his body and crumpling it into a ball in his fingers.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to Blue's memorial? Your Gran told me that the school was holding one during the day tomorrow."

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Was he going to the memorial? He'd been asked a dozen times, by Chase, by his other friends. By his Grandmother. The thought of it made him want to leap into the sea, swim away to a distant island, attach himself to a tree there, and just silently, brainlessly photosynthesize for the rest of his life. No. There was no way in hell that anyone could force him onto that godforsaken beach tomorrow to light a candle or let a paper lantern drift away or whatever other stupid thing the school administration had planned to let strangers pretend that they knew anything at all about Blue.

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh, good. I think that would be really good for you, kid. Celebrate Blue's memory with a few friends. Maybe I'll swing by if there's a lull in the tourists for a bit," Tammy replied. She looked so relieved at his response that he almost felt guilty.

"Yeah. I'll see you next weekend, Tammy. Thanks." He turned away, so he didn't have to see the way her eyes were looking at him anymore, and headed towards his Grandmother's house.

It wasn't that he had anything planned for tomorrow. In fact, he had to concede, if he had any brains at all, he'd probably have planned something with Chase, or done... something. Anything, really. Doing anything would have been healthy. But he didn't want to do anything. He didn't want to even have to leave his room tomorrow. He didn't want to have to open his blinds or turn on the lights or lift the covers or, worst of all, to see that pale and unforgiving moon that had watched Blue disappear and hadn't told anyone where she had went. The moon that had possibly watched Blue die and still hadn't told anyone. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his brain the way a dog might dislodge a flea. Only this flea was stubborn and crushing and it was sucking all of the blood from him, until he was just a pale empty shell of a person, walking around and taking orders from tourists who called him names and didn't even know that Blue existed. If she did anymore.

Do you stop existing when you die?

He turned suddenly, swiftly, down the path that led to the beach. This beach was the town's private beach, and he knew it would be empty at this hour. He just wanted to hear the waves. The steady crash of the waves sounding off like the steady tick of a clock. Immovable.