The fog is thick. Oppressive. The air is cold. Menacing. I stand at the edge of the water. She calls to me from the far shore. I can’t see her. I can’t see anything. But I hear her. I wade into the water and it begins to rise. I press forward. It reaches my knees. My chest. She calls out again. Closer now. She’s there. A silhouette. I reach out. As I extend my arms something pulls me down. Into the depths. The darkness. I fight to return to the surface. To breathe. To live. To see her again.
I wake in a start. Gasping for air. Soaked with sweat. Certainly not the most auspicious start to the new year. I roll over, grab the bottle on the nightstand, and pop a couple of white pills.
After receiving Alaina’s shocking news on New Year’s Day, we texted back and forth over the weekend trying to find a day and time to connect. We finally agreed to meet for lunch here at Rawvolution, a vegan café located on the corner of Main and Strand in Santa Monica. Her choice, not mine. I’m […]
“It’s killing me,” I say as I lay horizontally, staring at the ceiling. “Figuratively, of course. Or maybe metaphorically. Whatever. All I know is that every night I’m plunged into the depths again. I struggle to reach the surface. Struggle to breathe. Only now there’s something weighing me down. Something in my pocket.”
I walk the length of the Venice Beach boardwalk, a three-quarter mile stretch of concrete that runs along the Pacific Ocean. Thinking as I go. Freaking out, actually.
I enter the Hinano Cafe and spot Scott sitting at the corner of the bar with a half-drunk pitcher of beer, a crumpled bag of Lay’s, and a half-eaten double cheeseburger.
I’m awakened by a knock on the door. I roll over, bury my head in the pillow, hoping whoever it is will just go away. But the knocking continues. It’s incessant. I roll out of bed, grab my phone, and trudge to the door.
“Almost there,” she says, looking down at me with a devilish grin. “Don’t stop now.” Out of breath, all I can do is nod at her and keep going.