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    What Grief Has Made, Part Seven

    Story written on December 30, 2006 by windrider.
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    28 votes, average: 2.89 out of 528 votes, average: 2.89 out of 528 votes, average: 2.89 out of 528 votes, average: 2.89 out of 528 votes, average: 2.89 out of 5 (28 votes, average: 2.89 out of 5)
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    Character(s): N/A
    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 500
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=63792
    Author Notes:

    Marina at sea

    Marina was only vaguely aware of the numbingly cold water as she pushed her tiring legs through the water, eyes fixed only on the far horizon, on the boats made small by distance and dim in the fog and mist not yet burned off by the sun. Her thighs were beginning to ache now, but she welcomed anything that distracted her from the pain eating its way through her from the inside out.

    Paris seemed so far away, so long ago now, when they had flown back together. She had reached for Jenny’s hand, kissed her fingertips one at a time. “What have we done, [I]ma petite[/I]?”

    “The best we could,” Jenny had answered her.

    If that had only remained true.

    Marina stopped momentarily, feeling the sand erode beneath her feet in the tide, before moving on, the waves building now, lifting her nearly off her feet with each small swell. Her chest was cold now, and still the pain burned in her. She forced herself to take one more step, and one more after that, tears rolling down her copper cheeks to be tossed back at her by the tide.

    This was unbearable. This loss. This knowledge that she had held happiness, real happiness, in her grasp and had sacrificed it out of doubt, uncertainty, fear. Love had transformed her, grief had hollowed her, and she could never again be who she was. And who else could she be?

    The thought had only begun to occur to her that perhaps grief and loss had made something different of her, a woman capable of real love, of honesty, someone who could live in her skin instead of fantasy, a woman who could choose to not sacrifice what was most important for what mattered least.

    Distracted by this odd revelation, she had no time to prepare for the force of the large wave that rolled toward her and slapped her beneath the surface. A single breath and she sucked her lungs full of seawater. For the briefest of moments, a strange thought occurred to her: I need not fear this. I came into being in the sea, breathing my mother’s waters. But her body quickly responded with a desperate fight for air.

    Instinctively she tried to push herself back above the surface, but she had been swept off her feet and could not gain purchase. The waves shoved her deeper, dragging her along the rough scouring sandy bottom. Had there been time, she would have panicked, but there was only the choking sensation and the ensuing blackness as she flailed uselessly against the sea, against her own will to surrender to it.

    She was oblivious to the two disparate sets of hands that reached out, grabbed her wrists, and dragged her coughing and spitting toward the safety of shore.

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    Comments

    1. I remember the story In Shadow,Love. where they went to Paris and was drinking the drink the green something and Marina Mother came to her and Jernny with the Mothers g/f. Antway you should repost that. Marina really mess up her life. thanks

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