Issue 37.0

by Eme Cummins

Photographs and Sea Salt

Dawn rose around him, glazing the ocean in honey yellows and sunny oranges. The California shore behind him awoke slowly. The docks remained empty, save for a few fishermen preparing for a long day, or the occasional retired couple looking forward to a calm day on the sea. Like usual, no one bothered him. Any other college student sitting on some expensive-looking boat this early in the morning during the summer would raise suspicions of a drunk all-nighter party. Max just got a few smiles or waves from others heading out into the ocean. His sailboat had become a regular to these docks decades ago. The only thing that changed for the locals was the man onboard. Max inherited it as a gift from his late (and overly extravagant) grandfather, and he kept the man’s memory alive by sailing as frequently as possible. 

The routine of summer brought Max an irreplicable comfort. Sure, he enjoyed time with his friends at college, but none of them could give him what time alone on his boat did. It wasn’t peace, such an overused word couldn’t describe the existential calming effect of these moments of solitude. For once he could let go, let the world around him take control and live uninterrupted until he chose to head back to shore.

This morning was like many others, a colorful sunrise, lukewarm saltwater splashing around, and not enough coffee in his mug to fully wake him up. Once the sun cleared the horizon, he stopped swirling his feet around in the water and started preparing to go home. He shuffled around the boat on a towel, trying to dry his feet and clean up at the same time. In his sleepy, slippery state he ran into a table and toppled over. He lay there for a minute with his eyes closed, grumbling about how he needs to “throw that stupid old table away already.” He went to sit up and promptly hit his head on the table. This time he accepted his defeat and stayed sprawled out on the floor. Glaring up at the old hunk of wood, he tried to find a reason not to throw it overboard right then and there when he spotted a loose rectangle of paper-like material stuck in the corner on the underside of the table between the joints of the wood.

He pulled the paper out from its place and got back on his feet carefully. It took a minute to peel the photo paper apart without damage, but the mystery paper turned out to be two old photographs. On the back were dates and notes of each.

California, 1984, Pops and Max are setting sail! Max was young, barely 9, but he had the smile of a man who’d won the lottery as he stood next to his grandfather, who shared the same expression. The dock they were on perfectly matched the one Max was headed back towards now, just looking a bit newer and cleaner. Despite the aging of the photo, their personalities shined through. Pops’ expensive taste couldn’t even be covered by a mountain of fishing gear; the navy watch face and silver metal band very noticeable on the old man’s wrist. That same watch now reflected the climbing sun on Max’s wrist as he flipped to the second photo.

Massachusetts, 1994, Last Summer with El ♡ His heart dropped. He forgot about her, about this picture, about how happy he’d been back there. In the photo his arms were wrapped around a laughing girl, her blonde hair flowing around in the sunny spring wind. They were standing on a dock with their high school logo proudly displayed on a sign in the back. Max frowned, remembering this moment and how they couldn’t stop smiling or focus on the camera as she tried to hold it still. Twelve months ago he would have said it was an adorable candid, now it’s a rude reminder of all the feelings he tried to bury six feet under his soul. By the time winter break rolled around and he’d become happily adjusted with his move across the country, both to attend college and live with his grandmother. He finally stopped the futile lies he used to placate his regret and just tried to forget it altogether.

~~

She had tried to forget everything about him. The face he made when he was trying to hide a surprise for her, the color of his favorite hat he wore all the time, what his hoodie smelled like, and worst of all, the sound of his voice. He’d supported her the whole way through high school, going as far as buying her a camera so she could follow her photography passions. She’d stuffed away every photo she had taken of him and contemplated buying an entire new camera just to push away the heartache. 

She adored him more than anything, and certainly as more than just a friend. She’d denied it for years, too scared to risk the best friendship she’d ever had. It had taken three and a half years of late-night adventures, photo sessions, school sailing team victories, and gifts of flowers for her to accept that she loved him. And when she did, everything and nothing changed all at once. 

By then it was already March of their senior year, and time was nearly gone. Ellie wanted to spend every moment with him, but the clocks seemed to spin faster each day. Afternoon walks with Max’s dog turned into afternoons petting the dog while Max packed up boxes. Lunch conversations went from making new plans to reminiscing about old hangouts. Soon enough, it was the day after graduation.

Reality hit and this was her last chance, her last-ditch effort to make something matter with him before he left and they’d never see each other again. Maybe she could make up for all the times she couldn’t look him in his caramel eyes and say the right words before. She tried to make it to his house before he left, but his mom had opened the door with a sad smile.

“He didn’t leave too long ago, darling. You might be able to catch him at the airport if you go now.” 

Those words played over and over in her head as she drove, ignoring any speed limit because the only thing that mattered in that moment was the purple and white bundle of flowers in her passenger seat, the pristine envelope tied to it, and whether she could find Max when she got there. She could recognize his face anywhere, but finding an average-height man with fluffy brown hair just like every boy his age was no easy task in a massive airport.

Ellie knew she looked crazy. A teenager sprinting to a random plane gate with nothing but a few flowers, a phone, and a wallet. Her only hope was finding the right California terminal, and she did.

Just a little too late. The doors were closed, and everyone was already seated on the plane as it pulled away. Just like that, it was over.

That was a year ago, and now she was back in her childhood room for summer break staring at that envelope she’d thrown under her bed in a fit of heartbroken anger.

~~

Max stared at the photo for a second longer before shoving it along with the other one in his pocket. He’d briefly debated throwing it into the water but couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. Shaking away the thoughts, he steered back to the dock and secured his boat in its place. Empty coffee mug and keys in hand, he began his errands for the day.

First stop was the local café. It was the morning rush, but Max had no problem waiting. He perused the cards and trinkets on the back shelves to kill time, looking out for anything interesting to bring his grandmother that afternoon along with the coffee grounds he came here to pick up for her. Finding nothing, he paid and went to leave.

On his way out the door he bumped shoulders with a woman who couldn’t be any older than him. For a brief moment, her straight sun-bleached hair and perfume sent him for a loop.

Max froze, fully prepared to see Ellie’s kind eyes when he looked back, but the girl’s face was unfamiliar, and her eyes were far too judgmental. He muttered an apology and brushed off the experience. It was like the photograph had opened a door to the vault in his mind and everything reminded Max of the girl across the country.

The song they danced to at prom came on the radio as soon as he switched the station. A man walking down the highway median was selling her favorite flowers. The empty storefront on Main Street had become a camera store. The little girl and her mom in line in front of him were talking about cupcakes that just happened to be Ellie’s favorite flavor.

By the time he made it to his grandmother’s house to drop off the coffee grounds and make dinner, he’d become enveloped in a ceaseless tsunami of memories. 

~~

She’d debated throwing the dusty envelope out the window, but she just couldn’t. Instead, she stared at it for a bit, absentmindedly listening to the birds outside and breathing in the warm New England breeze that danced through her wispy curtains. Her hands moved towards the envelope without her brain’s approval. They carefully tore through the purple wax seal she’d created so delicately all those months ago, wishing a different set of nails would break through it.

Eventually her mind gave in and helped sort through the inside contents. A few photographs of varying sizes, a letter, and a pressed flower from her senior prom bouquet. She sorted the pictures aside, smiling at the goofy face of Max’s puppy, blurry photos he took when he had no idea how to use the camera, and two of her favorite photos ever. One was Max sitting on a park bench in his graduation suit. The other was one a friend had taken of the two of them laughing on a beach trip without either knowing they had paparazzi behind them. They were happy memories, but reality glossed them over in a teary haze. Ellie couldn’t bring herself to read the letter in full. She skimmed from section to section, reading all her frantic words like a ghost watching a movie of herself.

As if he knew she was upset, her old family dog Banjo sauntered in through the cracked door. His paws clicked on the hardwood and drew her out of her memory. She picked up the elderly lab and set him down beside her on her bed, petting him as she packed the envelope back up and reached out to lay it on the corner of the desk. While helping the dog back down to the floor, she took a look at his collar, and all her emotions were thrown right back in her face. Out of all of Banjo’s collars, this had been her favorite for him before she left, and her Mom must have put it back on to celebrate her coming home. Of course, it had to have been a gift from Max from the pup’s birthday years ago.

Trying to push the boy out of her mind, she went downstairs hoping that other people would distract her. It worked and she found herself singing along to the radio with her younger sister while they made a celebratory pasta dinner. The rest of the night passed peacefully with a family movie and a cutthroat game of Monopoly, but the shadow of Max still lurked in the back of her mind. The chair he would always pull up to the dinner table was absent and his favorite property Park Place was never even bought.

~~

Dinner with his Grams had taken Max’s mind off the odd situation he was in, but he had to leave at some point. As their conversation wrapped up and he started to gather his belongings, she stopped him.

“Are you sure something isn’t troubling you?” her face crinkled into a gentle look of concern.

“I’m alright, Grams. I just feel... I feel like everything I do reminds me of someone I thought I should have forgotten.”

Her face relaxed into an understanding look. A face that only years of wisdom and a mother’s intuition could come together to create.

“You’ve always made a habit of treasuring people in little ways. Look at your wrist, you keep Pops nearby all the time. Your father was like this too. People themselves may be gone, but you’ve always found their memory in life around you.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Max truthfully hadn’t. He never thought that deeply about his own actions, it all just felt natural. He felt less alone with all these people he loved around him in their own ways. That’s always been how he lived.

“Oh, I know, you’re also just as dense as your father,” Grams smiled. Even at a bold 89 years old, she was still just as witty and sarcastic as she was when Max was barely old enough to walk.

With a million new thoughts in his head, Max said goodbye and closed the front door behind him. He left her neighborhood and rolled down his windows as he headed home. As the final turn of the drive into the neighborhood came up, he braked and put his turn signal on, but without thinking he turned it right back off, sped up out of the turning lane and back onto the road straight towards the docks.

He didn’t fully know why he was there or why he was untying his boat, but it felt right. Max was the type of person who went to sleep early so he could wake up and be on the water before sunrise, but tonight he desperately needed the comfort sailing brought him even if it meant he wouldn’t get to his bend until late. The sunset was one in a million, colors all the way from purple to gold and every red in between and bubbly clouds that rolled each color into a Van Gough stroke. He sailed out to where he could still see the shore but couldn't hear any of its constant noise. 

No cars rushing by or the buzz of voices. Only the soothing rhythm of the waves. Sitting in his usual perch, ankles swaying in the warm water, he pulled the pictures out of his pocket. He set the photo of his grandfather aside and focused on him and Ellie.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let himself think of her without feeling guilty. All the memories came flooding back and he couldn't resist smiling. She was perfect and he missed her. He would miss her for all his life, but he began to understand that sometimes that’s just how it is. As the sun made peace with the night sky in front of him, he made peace with what could have been. There would never be a moment when he wouldn’t wish he had said the right words or taken a leap of faith, but holding on would get him nowhere.

After a moment of empty thought, he stood up and took a pen off the table. He couldn’t say it before but saying it now could give him some aching type of closure. He turned the photo over and added three words beneath the previous caption.

I love you  

~~

After the mess from dinner and game night had been cleaned up and everyone else in the house had retreated to their beds, Ellie made her way upstairs too. She helped Banjo to his bed, gave him a final goodnight pat, and closed her door. Eyes closed, she just stood there and breathed for a minute. Eventually she turned off her ceiling light and crossed the room to close her window. The gust of air that flew as the glass slid down sent a few papers from her desk.

She bent down to pick them up, reorganizing them back into a neat stack. She picked up the envelope and haphazardly pushed all the jumbled-up contents back in, feeling too tired to be kind to a paper that had hurt her. Ellie took one last look at it before turning away and her eyes landing on the corner of the last page of her letter that hung out the top of the envelope.

All at once she wanted to smile at the memory of writing it and break down at the reality of it all. How fitting of it that the man who taught her love was the only person she never got to say it too.

She signed her undelivered note:

I love you,

 - Ellie