Rising Tides by Maria Rachel Hooley Page B

the four years we’ve been together.  And apparently the answer is still no.  You want to protect me, Gary.”  I bit my lower lip and wrapped my arms around my body.  “But you can’t.  So you have to let me go.  For both of us.”
    He looked up at me.  His eyebrows arched uneasily over his dark brown eyes, and frown lines curled like parentheses around his mouth.  “Do you mind giving us a ride to the airport?”  He spoke quietly as his fingers on his right hand toyed with the gold band on his left hand.
    “No, that’s fine.  But Debra can take the damn courtesy van.”  I picked up the pearl earrings from the nightstand and offered them to him.
    He shook his head and closed my palm around them.  “Keep them.  I still want you to have them.”  I turned to the mirror and quickly inspected my hair before we left.  Once we were in the car, I felt claustrophobic.  For the most part, the soft music humming from the stereo filled the silence neither of us knew how to breach.  A silence filled with too much truth.
    Finally, the weight of it was too much for Gary as he stared out the window.  “I’d like to think you’d call me if you needed something, or just someone.”  He rested his head against the seat.  “I know there’s a lot of distance between us right now, but before that, there was love.”
    I pulled up to the entrance and put the car into park with a trembling hand.  “If I need you, I will call.  You can’t subtract things, Gary, especially not those that matter.  You can only add things.”
    He turned away, and I popped the trunk so he could collect his luggage.  As he headed through the glass doors, he looked back one last time.  Pain mapped his face in lines and shadows, and each step was slower than the last.  I knew if I didn’t drive away, he’d come back.  I quickly switched into gear, looked to see if I were clear, and pulled away from the curb.  As I entered a clear lane, I peered into the rearview mirror and saw Gary holding his bags and watching the rental car leave.
    Instead of driving back to the hotel, I went to the beach.  Although I thought it was because I wanted to see Tyler, actually, I needed to be close to the ocean again.  Standing on the damp sand, I watched the waves rolling toward land.  I took off my shoes and stepped into the damp sand where the waves had been.  At first, the cold water took my breath away, but the numbness quickly replaced the chill as I walked the empty beach.  I saw signs that other people had been where I stood.  Sometimes I found beer bottles.  Sometimes, I discovered broken toys.  But the one thing that immediately drew my attention was a sand castle ravaged by the tides.
    Each wave carried more of it away, and although I knew it was hopeless, I fell to my knees and tried to pad more sand in the places where the tide had damaged it.  The wet sand clung to my palms.  I didn’t mind.  Not even the cold stopped me as I rebuilt and added to the castle. With my fingers, I brushed away sand, carving doors and windows.
    When I finished, I stood and admired my work, ignoring the waves which immediately began to demolish my diligent efforts.  The first wave lapped at the walls and windows I’d just built, dulling the lines I’d shaped into it.  You cannot steal this from me , I thought, staring at the tide as I brushed my sandy hands on my shirt.  Nothing can steal this.
    Instead of watching the water lap at the castle, I turned my attention further down the beach, away from Tyler’s house.  A handful of other structures lined the beach.  With one last glance at my shoes lying a short distance from the incoming tide, I rolled up my pants and began jogging down the shore.  With each step, my toes sank deeper into the wet sand.  The cold wind stroked my feet each time I lifted one of them from the water, and reaching up, I pulled the rubber band free of my hair.  My fingers pulled the strands loose, and the wind