Beyond the Rising Tide Read online

  We walk up the street to the beacon house, and on the front door there’s a “Come In!!!” sign scrawled with red marker on a pizza box lid. I hear the thump of music and the fluctuating hum of conversation on the other side of the door, plus what sounds like someone massacring a Weezer song with a microphone. Just as I reach for the doorknob, the door opens and a handful of girls spill onto the porch between Avery and me. One of the girls is Paige, Avery’s best friend. When she sees Avery, she squeals and pulls her into a hug. “You’re here!”

  “Are you leaving?” Avery asks.

  “No—but Mattie and Fiona are.” She waves to the departing girls. “See ya tomorrow!” They wave back, and when they see me, their smiling faces turn curious. Paige finally notices me too and raises a questioning eyebrow at Avery.

  We’re introduced, though after haunting Avery for the last six months, I don’t really need introductions to her friends.

  Paige gives Avery a look that says, We need to talk, and Avery mouths the word “Later.”

  “Tyler’s still here,” Paige says in a hushed tone, grabbing Avery’s wrist. “But before you come in … I’m warning you …”

  “Gem’s here, isn’t she?” Avery asks.

  Paige answers with an apologetic look, and Avery’s shoulders sink a notch. “I don’t think he was expecting you to come. None of us were. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Come on.” Paige tugs on Avery’s wrist, but Avery digs in her heels.

  “Just … give me a minute,” Avery says, her voice tired.

  Paige looks at her for a long moment, and I can tell she’s hurting for her friend. “Okay,” she says, letting go of Avery’s wrist. “I’ll be inside.” She goes back in, leaving the door cracked open.

  Avery looks up at me with eyes that are desperate for reassurance. “Remind me what I’m doing here—especially when Gem is already in there with Tyler.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about Gem. I saw her try to hug Tyler last night, and he totally shot her down.”

  Her eyes brighten. “Really?”

  I nod. “Whatever’s going on between them, it’s not what you think. So forget about her. You’re here for Tyler. You want him back, right?”

  She seems to think hard for a few seconds, then nods. “And how exactly am I getting him back again?”

  I have the urge to reach over and rub out the little crease between her brows. Instead I say, “Just be yourself.”

  “I told you. I—”

  “No—I’m not talking about the person you used to be. Or the person you want to be, or the person Tyler wants you to be. Just be you. Who you are today, right now. It’s enough.” I find her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “And leave the rest to me.”

  She considers a moment, and then nods. I loop her arm through mine and lead her into the house. She doesn’t resist, just clings to my arm and follows my lead.

  We step into an enormous room clearly built for entertaining. Vaulted ceilings rise to the second floor, circled with a balcony. A staircase spirals up one corner of the house, and an over-sized C-shaped sectional is parked on Spanish tile in front of a huge flat screen. Three guitars—a bass, an electric, and an acoustic—rest on stands next to a karaoke machine, and some guy with an overgrown mullet stands there with a microphone, belting out the last lines of “Say It Ain’t So.” He finishes with a few fist pumps, and clapping and whistling ensue.

  The sectional is crowded, and Tyler is lounging in the middle with Gem wedged between him and another guy. I know the exact moment Avery sees them, because her grip on my arm tightens. I look down at her, and her face has lost all color.

  “Remember,” I say, dipping my head closer to hers. “It’s nothing. Once he sees you’re here, he’ll forget all about her.”

  We find a tight open spot on the couch and sit down, and I have to put my arm around Avery for us to fit. It takes Tyler until halfway through the next karaoke number to notice we’re here, and when he does, he shifts uncomfortably on the couch, putting a bit of space between him and Gem. He spends the remainder of the song throwing troubled glances our way, and as soon as the song ends, he gets up. He goes to the karaoke machine, where he sifts through the CDs. Gem heads for the kitchen, giving Avery a crusty look on her way.

  Avery’s face is unreadable as she sits quietly beside me, watching Tyler.

  “You okay?” I ask her. She’s so close my mouth is an inch from her ear, but I have the urge to draw her even closer.

  She nods. “I’m good. I’m glad I came.”

  Tyler drops in a CD and hits some buttons, and the opening guitar riff of “I Won’t Give Up” sounds through the speakers. He looks right at Avery, lifts the microphone to his mouth, and starts singing to her. Avery lowers her eyes, color slowly returning to her cheeks. Tyler’s voice is off key by half a step, but from the way he’s looking at Avery, it seems like he means every word. I should feel happy that my plan is working so well, but instead I feel sick, like I’ve just opened my wallet to discover I’ve been robbed.

  And then Gem walks in front of us on her way back to the couch, holding a cup of something and swaying her hips in her tight capris. Tyler’s gaze shifts to her, and follows her, staying with her even after she sits down. Gem’s not even looking at him. She’s talking with some guy in Ray-Bans, and Tyler is now singing at her, as though trying to get her attention. Avery watches the whole thing, her face appalled. A surge of anger rushes through me, and all the muscles in my arms tighten. What is he thinking? No—what was I thinking, coming here and trying to get her back together with this idiot? She may love him, but she deserves so much better than this. Her happiness should not be in his hands. In fact, now that I really think about it, maybe her happiness shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands but her own.

  Avery turns toward me, her face a breath away, and says, “I want to leave.”

  I’m about to get up and usher her out of the house, but as my eyes fall on the acoustic guitar near the karaoke machine, it calls out to me, suggesting an idea. I drop my hand on Avery’s wrist. “Wait. Just … ten more minutes.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t try to get up either. She wraps her arms tightly around her waist and bites her lower lip, as though trying to keep it from trembling.

  In this moment, I want nothing more than for the world to stop and look at Avery, to see everything beautiful about her. Not to make her look desirable for Tyler, but for Avery to remember her own worth so that she can take it and find her own happiness. And I can think of only one way to accomplish this.

  When Tyler finishes serenading Gem, I turn to Avery. “Don’t go anywhere.” I get up and cross the room to the guitar.

  “What do you wanna sing, man?” The kid at the karaoke machine offers me the microphone, but I wave it off and point to the Martin guitar. “Can I provide my own music?”

  “It’s not mine. Hey, Dillan! Can this dude play your guitar?”

  Dillan is over by the kitchen chatting with some guys, his arm dangling over Paige’s shoulder. “You break it, you buy it, man,” he calls over his shoulder, not even looking at me.

  I pull a stool over from the kitchen bar and sit, propping the guitar in my lap. It’s a nice guitar, and when I run my fingers over the strings, feeling their texture and vibrations, something electric courses through me. It’s something I haven’t felt in so long, and I’m taken back to six months earlier. Playing my guitar on a street corner in Denver, suspended halfway between the life I left behind and the life I hoped to live, the music coming out of me like a fiery anthem.

  And then I’m gazing out the window of a box truck, watching rows of orange trees fly by, my stomach hollow and aching. Alone at a rest stop, afraid and uncertain, like I’ve tripped into an open pit and I’m falling, falling, falling, with nothing to grab and no light to see when or where I’ll land. And I remember now what Charles taught me to do with all those feelings. All the anger, the fear, the loneliness, the sorrow.

  I tweak the tuning pegs, bringing
a string down a half-note and another up until they hum just right, and then spread my fingers across the fretboard to make a G. And then I start strumming.

  The chords vibrate through me, filling the empty spaces, the loneliness, the missing pieces, the chasm between peace and torment, between life and death. Music is my servant, the one thing I can control. I can bend and shape it to be whatever I want it to be. But this song is for Avery, not me, so I surrender to the music, letting it take its own shape.

  quiet settles over the room as all eyes turn to Kai. There’s nothing self-conscious about his playing. His long fingers move along the guitar’s neck with surety and deftness, like he’s been playing all his life. He’s strumming a gorgeous chord progression, his body moving with the rhythm, like the guitar is an extension of him.

  I glance around the room to see people raising their eyebrows and nodding approvingly at each other, clearly as impressed as I am. I don’t think it’s possible for the room to grow any quieter, but when Kai starts singing, it does. As soulful tones sail through his lips, people gather around like he’s the Pied Piper. His music commands the room, demands to be heard.

  “I see her face through silver glass … She’s woven of rain and stardust …”

  His words reach deep inside me like soft fingers, wrapping around the core of my soul. His eyes are closed, his expression intense, as though he’s feeling every word, reliving every moment that inspired them. He’s obviously singing about a girl he loves, and I’m surprised at the pang of jealousy that hits me.

  “With numbered sunsets and bated breath … I’ll swallow her tears; mend the unjust …” Kai opens his eyes and looks at me through his dark lashes, and his gaze is so piercing that it startles me. My mouth is open, and I shut it. But I can’t pull my eyes away from his. They’ve captured me, wrapped me up like an embrace.

  I have to remind myself that he isn’t really singing to me. He’s singing at me to make Tyler jealous—for my sake. But the way he’s singing, the angst and yearning in his voice, the longing in his eyes, makes me feel like every word is meant for me.

  “She’s jasmine and lilies; a restless reprise … with slumbering wings on white waves …”

  People are glancing at me, like they believe he’s really singing to me. Either Kai is a talented actor, or he truly feels something for me. But how can that be when we just met yesterday? Only, as I meet his eyes again, still gazing at me with raw, uncloaked tenderness, I feel something flicker inside me, a recognition of truth, sincerity.

  As he sings the last words, he shuts his eyes and grimaces, like he’s uttering a last plea for a death pardon. “A sojourn in silence; a borrowed reprieve … I’ll take her sorrow to my grave …”

  For a couple of heartbeats, awed silence fills the room. Then it erupts in applause and whistles. When Kai stands, he’s swarmed by people. They’re asking for more songs and where he learned to play like that and if he wrote that song. Dillan takes the guitar from Kai, staring at it like he didn’t even know it was capable of making those sounds.

  Tyler appears in front of me, blocking my view of Kai. He looks frustrated, and he tips his head toward the French doors that lead to the back deck. “We need to talk.”

  This is the last thing I expected, especially after his performance to Gem, so I sit there a minute waiting for him to say, “Just kidding.” But he doesn’t. He bends down and hooks my arm, tugging me off the couch; then he leads me by the elbow out of the loud room to a deck overlooking the bluff.

  He shuts the door behind us, blocking out the noise of the room, but my ears are still humming with Kai’s beautiful music.

  Tyler turns to me, a wild mix of jealousy and incredulity in his eyes. “So—are you, like, with him now?”

  I fold my arms. “What does it matter to you? You’re in there singing your heart out to Gem.”

  He shuts his eyes and winces, then turns from me and moves to the railing. He spreads his hands wide on it and dips his head low, as though he’s contemplating jumping over. I can hear the sound of water crashing into the rocks below, like something shattering. “I’m an idiot,” he mutters.

  I can’t disagree with him, but the despondent way he’s standing pricks my compassion. I approach him hesitantly. “Tyler, what’s going on?”

  He shakes his head and turns to face me, leaning his back against the railing. “I sang to her … to make you jealous. Okay? You were sitting there with that guy—”

  “Kai. His name’s Kai.”

  “Whatever.” He comes closer until there’s only a foot between us, and my heart does a little flip. “Look—I’m sorry. That song was meant for you, and you alone.” Now my heart does a big flip. His face is in shadow, but the deck light reflecting off the house is enough to see the pain in his eyes.

  “You don’t need to make me jealous,” I say. “And you don’t need to play games to get my attention. You already have it.”

  “I just thought …” He lets out a loud sigh, and his peppermint breath brushes my face. “Avery … am I too late?”

  I stand there for a minute in shock, unable to believe that Kai’s plan worked so well. But it did work, and now I don’t know what to say. Because at the thought of having Tyler back, I feel empty and unsatisfied, like someone has poured a teaspoon of lemonade into my empty cup. And suddenly I’m not sure if this is even what I want anymore.

  Tyler’s hand comes slowly to my face. His fingertips brush my cheek, along my jaw, across my lips. It reminds me of the first time he kissed me, and I find myself leaning into him. He slides his hand to the back of my neck, and I don’t have time to think whether or not I want him to kiss me before he leans in and presses his lips to mine. At first it feels nice because it’s familiar. Something I’ve longed for since the last time he kissed me. I try to surrender to it, to savor it. But after a few seconds, it starts to feel strange. Like an intrusion of my personal space. I open my eyes, and I don’t even recognize the face that’s an inch from mine. He’s been away for so long, he’s become someone different to me.

  Right as I’m about to pull away, he releases my lips. He leans away to look in my eyes and slides his hands from my neck down to my shoulders. “I can’t lose you. We can work this out, I know we can. I haven’t been patient enough with you and I’m sorry. I know you’ll be okay, that you’ll be back to yourself someday. It’ll just take some more time, right? My cousin was saying how she went through something kind of like this, and after she got some counseling, and started on some meds—”

  I pull out of his arms and glare up at him, feeling the hurt on my face. “Tyler—what is it exactly about me that you love?”

  “What? What does that have to do with—”

  “I mean, is there anything about me”—I point to my chest, trying to make him understand that I’m talking about my character, not my hobbies—“that you love? That would make you want to be with me even if I never surfed again? Like kindness, or devotion, or intelligence, or … anything?”

  He stares at me for a minute. “Avery, don’t do this.”

  “I’m just trying to understand—”

  “You’re acting like your mom. Overthinking. Overprocessing. Why don’t you get it? I just want you back. So come back. Get on some meds and get off the train to crazytown.”

  “What?” I fall back a step, like I’ve been struck. He knows my sensitivity about mental illness, my fear that I’ll inherit my mom’s struggles someday. I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’d say that. You think meds are going to fix our broken relationship? Well, unless there’s a pill that makes you stop being a jerk, meds aren’t going to solve our problems. What I need from you is patience. And unconditional love.”

  He sighs loudly. “I’m just trying to help. You’ve got to snap out of this. Don’t get all offended just because I think you could use some help.”

  “What’s wrong with me the way I am now?” I shout. “Why am I worthless to you just because I can’t get on a surfboard?” I glare at hi
m, at his stunned face, and all I can think about are Kai’s words earlier.

  Just be yourself. It’s enough.

  But just being me will never be enough for Tyler. There’s only one version of myself that’s enough for him, a version that’s impossible to maintain one hundred percent of the time. “I have to go.” I take another step back.

  “Avery—don’t.” He reaches out like he’s going to try and stop me, so I spin on my heel and go back inside, scanning the room for Kai. I have to leave now. But I don’t see Kai anywhere.

  I search the kitchen and hallways. I make my way up the stairs, and it’s even more crowded on the balcony. I’m drowning in a sea of people, tossed by the waves of their movements, their chatter, their stares. I can see it in their eyes. I’m the messed-up girl with the messed-up mom. I can’t breathe, and I search in vain for a lifebuoy to cling to, for Kai. But he’s nowhere to be found, so I start asking around to see if anyone has seen him. A redhead hanging on some guy by the front door says she saw him leave.

  “When?” I ask.

  She gives a lazy shrug. “A few minutes ago.”

  I hurry through the front door, hoping that Kai is waiting by my car. But when I get there, he’s nowhere in sight.

  ’m in the ocean, hanging onto my surfboard. A storm rages around me, but at least I’m not alone. A boy clings to the opposite side of my surfboard. The boy who just saved my life.

  I feel the remains of my surfboard leash snaking around my legs. The boy’s shoulder dips beneath the surface as he fishes it out of the water; then he grabs my wrist and cinches the leash around it with a messy knot. “You don’t want to lose this,” he shouts over the roaring waves.

  I’m shaking, but not only because I’m cold. For the first time in my life, I’m truly afraid. He must see the fear in my eyes, because he reaches across the surfboard and captures my hand. We’ve got our thumbs interlocked like arm wrestlers, but my hand is on top, like I just won. I want to see his face, but with the rain pelting me I can’t keep my eyes open. So I look at his hand, at his long fingers curled around mine. The waves move us up and down, up and down. But with my hand in his, I feel steady. And just as I start to believe that we’ll make it back to shore safely, his hand is ripped from mine.