Copyright © 2008 Fleur Bradley. All rights reserved.

The ocean heals. Maggie’s mother Edith said it when they first moved to the beach. Edith had spread her arms, trying without success to the catch the wind in her belled sleeves. Even the ocean didn’t buy her nonsense.

Now, thirty-five years later, Maggie was back where it all began—or ended, depending on how you looked at it. She took the winding path past the campers, tents and lines of laundry strung between trees. The sun peeked through the leaves, and when she made it past the campground to the beach, the rays warmed her face. Maggie hadn’t been back to Pismo Beach since it happened, and she was reminded how comfortable everything was here. The sun, the salty breeze from the ocean, the waves playing with the sand—it was all just right.

Maggie exhaled. Sand crept into her sandals. She quickly loosened the leather straps and walked on the warm sand, the grains slipping between her toes. Around her, people walked their dogs. Couples held hands, children chased the seagulls. The waves rolled slowly, patiently, surfers bopping like seals, waiting for the ocean to bring some more action. The water was grey, green, blue and white, depending on where the sunlight reflected. Back then, it had been crimson. Clouds of red spreading in the water, bloody water crashing on the surf.

Maggie drew a figure eight in the wet sand with her big toe, watching the water wash it away.

"Isn’t this beautiful?" Their mother, who now preferred they called her Edith, spun in her white bell-sleeved top and white skirt, the one with the little bells on it, making her jingle everywhere she went. Edith inhaled deeply. "I love the ocean. It’s so healing, don’t you think?" She turned to Maggie.

"It’s just a bunch of water," Maggie said with a shrug.

Her little brother Robbie played with the bells on his mother’s skirt. "When are we going home?"

Edith dropped her arms, looking disappointed. "I was hoping you two would understand what I’m doing." She looked back at the campsite, the dozen tents that were scattered along the coastline. "Freedom. I’m giving you liberty, to explore your individuality outside the constriction of…" Edith hesitated.

"Can’t remember his speech, Mom?" Maggie said.

Edith shook her head. "I’m going to join the others. You two can mope all you want." She walked to the campground, where John, the leader, was already waiting for her with a smile.

"What a creep," Maggie mumbled under her breath. John spread his arms and her mother walked right into them. He rubbed her back, slowly, then the two disappeared between the tents. Maggie sighed.

"Is Dad coming soon?" Robbie pulled at the pocket of her jeans, something she normally hated, but was now nicely familiar. "I want Dad." His lower lip quivered. He clutched the golden plastic badge their father had given him for his last birthday. ‘Partner’, he liked to call Robbie. Robbie, who was sensitive like his mother. He hadn’t liked the present, Maggie knew that. Their mother had bought him a box of watercolors, which he used all afternoon to paint, the badge forgotten on the floor somewhere. But now, it was all he had of their father. "Can’t Dad come get us now?"

Maggie paused. She wanted to tell Robbie everything would be okay, that their father would be on his way, talk sense into their mother and take them home to Lompoc, where they had their small house that smelled of the sausage their father ate every morning, and detergent on laundry day. But Maggie couldn’t lie to her brother. "He’s not coming, Robbie."

Little wedges of tears rimmed his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because our mother is a nutty hippie. Because she thinks this is where she should be. Because…" Maggie picked Robbie up. He was so small, even for his five years, light as his conscience. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Why can’t we go home?"

Maggie thought for a moment. "Maybe we can," she said, more to herself than to Robbie. "Just because she wants to live in a tent, doesn’t mean we have to. Right?"

Robbie nodded, though he looked a little confused.

"We have to find a phone."

***

Maggie found a payphone along Highway One, two miles away from the camp, near a gas station. The smell of urine and gasoline drowned the air. Robbie clung to her legs as she dialed the familiar home phone number.

"Dad?" Maggie clutched the sticky receiver.

"Margaret," he said. "Where are you? Tell me and I’ll come get you. Your mother too."

"I don’t know. We’re in Pismo, that campground near the beach?"

"I’ll find the place."

"We’re at a gas station now. Me and Robbie." Maggie touched Robbie’s curly hair with her free hand. "I don’t think Mom…"

"Never mind that," her father said. "She’ll come. Whether she likes it or not."

Maggie remembered her father’s moods. The way he would lay down the law at home, as if he were the police there too. And the more her mother resisted, the meaner he became. There was never any physical violence, but the yelling was enough. She knew that’s why her mother left. "Dad, I don’t think that’s the way. If you just…"

"Get back to the camp site, Margaret. I’ll be there in an hour."

***

The sun set by the time Maggie made it back to the campground, with Robbie on her back, his arms clutched around her neck like a monkey. There was a camp fire on the beach, and some of the members of the family, as her mother and John called the group, were singing, eating, dancing. Maggie lowered Robbie from her back and set him down in the sand, away from the others. She scanned the crowd for her mother, but couldn’t find her. Or John.

"Wait here, okay Robbie? I’m going to look for something to eat."

Robbie clutched the leg of her jeans. "Don’t go!"

Maggie looked down. Her little brother looked so afraid. Five years old, look what she’s done to him. She lowered herself on the sand. "I’ll stay. Dad’ll come soon anyway."

"We’ll go home and Mom will make macaroni. No peas," Robbie said as he curled up under his sister’s arm. "I don’t like peas."

Maggie stroked his hair. As she felt Robbie’s breath slow against her side, felt his limbs relax, Maggie wondered if she’d done the right thing by calling home. What was her father going to do? He was a police officer after all, one with a nasty temper.

"I see you two are getting used to the beach already." Edith walked through the sand to Maggie, while John went for his family by the fire.

"Shhh," Maggie said. "Robbie’s asleep."

Her mother smiled. Her cheeks were flushed, and she tugged at her skirt. Maggie felt herself go nauseous as she imagined what her mother had been up to.

"Enjoying your freedom, are you?" Maggie said.

Her mother looked defeated. "I’m going to join the others," she said. "I hope you’ll come too."

"Not a chance," Maggie said to her mother’s back, feeling Robbie stir at her side.

***

Her father was late. The police lights illuminated the leaves on the trees, clashing with the light from the camp fire. Maggie watched as her mother looked up, clutching John’s arm as she said something to him Maggie couldn’t understand. Her father got out slowly, looked around, at the camp, the beach, the fire, shaking his head. He motioned for her mother to come, but instead, John went to the police car, his walk steady despite the sand.

Maggie stood, forgetting about Robbie, who quickly woke and grabbed her jeans pocket. "Come on Robbie," she said hesitantly, "we’re going home."

They walked the sand too, ignoring their mother’s calls. "I’m not staying," Maggie mumbled under her breath, her heart pacing. She watched John talk calmly to their father, who shook his head.

"This is kidnapping. Kidnapping, Edith!" he yelled over John’s shoulder. "I should arrest you." His hair was combed back and wet, like maybe he’d taken a shower before he came. His uniform looked like he forgot to iron it. Mom used to iron it for him, Maggie thought with a pang in her heart.

"She is a free woman now," John argued. "Can’t you see?"

"You’re screwing her," her father said. Maggie looked for his partner, but her father was alone. His uniform was not buttoned all the way. "Call it what you want. And she’s not free. She’s my wife. And she’s coming with me." He grabbed the weapon from his holster. "Edith!" he called.

"Dad," Maggie said. John looked undisturbed –a closer look at his eyes made Maggie realize he was high. "Put the gun away, Dad. We’ll go."

"What are you doing, Bob?" Edith tried to run in the sand, but nearly fell. "You think you can threaten these people? You don’t own me."

"You’re my wife. My wife." Maggie saw her father clutch the gun, but he didn’t lift it to aim. "You’re coming home. All of you."

"Maggie," Robbie said, crying, hiding behind her legs. "I don’t wanna."

Edith walked over and wrapped her arm around Maggie. "Look. Your own children don’t want to go with you." She smiled. "Go back to that police state you love so much. We want to be free."

Maggie stood motionless, feeling Robbie’s tiny fingers dig into her legs. The bottom of her jeans felt moist, and it wasn’t until she looked down that she saw he wet himself.

Edith seemed oblivious to her son’s fear. She took a step toward John and took his hand. "I have a new family now," she said.

Her father loosened the grip on his gun and replaced it in the holster. He glanced at Maggie as he got into the police cruiser, then he turned off the red flashing lights and slowly drove away.

"Look at him now," Edith said as she watched her husband drive away, still clutching John’s hand. "Look at him now," she repeated in a whisper.

John gently pulled his hand away from Edith’s grip and returned to the campfire.

***

The night was cold. Around midnight, most of the group returned to their tents, high or drunk, touching, kissing laughing. Maggie watched her mother trail behind John, her feet unsteady from something she smoked. John had his fingers tangled in some young girl’s curls.

Maggie found a spot against the rocks, where the wind couldn’t reach. Robbie curled into a ball. He looked at the police badge, touched the spots where the layer of fake brass had rubbed off, exposing the cheap plastic underneath. "I don’t wanna be a partner," he said.

"It’s okay, Robbie," Maggie said, as she couldn’t think of anything better to say. "We’ll stick together."

Robbie sat up, nearly hitting his head on Maggie’s chin. "I know," he said excitedly. "We can be partners." He held out the plastic badge. His hand looked so tiny, the badge so big.

"That’s yours," Maggie said. "You should keep it."

"No, no," Robbie said, pushing the plastic into her palm. "You have to keep it. Otherwise it’s not real."

"Okay." Maggie held the badge. It felt warm and light, like Robbie. "Partners."

***

The group didn’t crawl out of their tents until midday, groggy and distant from each other. Some stretched out on the beach, letting the sun wake them, others stumbled to the communal wash rooms.

Maggie spent most of the night thinking, weighing options only to discard them. She could go back home, to their father. But the thought of Robbie, peeing against her leg because he was so afraid of his father, made her think that might just be worse than hanging around this group. She could take off with Robbie, but at thirteen, she couldn’t imagine herself providing for the two of them. One night on the beach made realize this was no way to live.

Robbie breathed slowly, his mouth gaping. He had to be hungry, she was. Maggie looked to the campground. Edith emerged from one of the tents, followed by a man –not John. She looked weary and tired when she walked the sand, her eyes slighting once she saw her children huddled against the dunes.

"You could have slept in one of the tents," Edith said as she lowered herself next to Maggie.

"Is that working out for you?" Maggie sneered. "I’m not joining that bunch of oversexed…"

"Mom," Robbie mumbled. He sat up and stretched. "You have a nice campout?’

Edith smiled. "It was okay." She stroked Robbie’s hair. "I was thinking we could maybe go see your grandma in Iowa for a while." She glanced back at the camp ground. "The beach is turning out to be colder than I thought."

"Is Dad coming?" Robbie asked. Still sleepy, he curled up against Maggie.

"No," Edith said. "You know when you get mad at first, and then it takes you awhile to cool off?"

"Like when Dad drove over my dump truck in the driveway, and he said I couldn’t have another one ‘cause I didn’t take reposab…"

"Responsibility," Maggie said.

"That," Robbie said. "Like that, Mom?"

"Right." Edith smiled, her eyes bloodshot. "Your father is really angry right now. Once he cools off a little, he’ll come around." She looked at Maggie for confirmation.

"When pigs fly," Maggie said to her mother.

"That’s when Dad’s coming?" Robbie asked. "When grandma’s pigs fly?"

"Something like that," Maggie said, laughing. When she caught her mother’s eye, she frowned. It won’t be so easy to win me back.

Edith stood. "I’ll go check the camp for breakfast. We’ll eat, and then we’ll head into town and call grandma." She kissed Robbie’s head, then touched Maggie’s face. "I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better for us."

***

Maggie couldn’t find the place she’d slept that night with her baby brother. Erosion had taken bites out of the coastline, making everything look different, smaller than she remembered. Or maybe it was she who had changed. The beach seemed so big then –maybe it was smaller because she herself had grown.

At her home in Denver, Maggie had a box full of unopened letters. For the past twenty years, her father had sent letters from prison, sometimes every month. She never opened any of the envelopes, always thick but light in her hand.

September, 1975

They ate slices of bread and apples, since that was all her mother could find. The mood was artificially light, Maggie thought, and Edith even spoke of Iowa with fondness.

"You’ll have to put up with grandma," she said. "You know she can be a little gruff. But he heart’s in the right place."

Sounds like Dad, Maggie thought, a tough guy, but loves his family. The difference was that her father had lost control, couldn’t see how the tighter he made his grip, the more he pushed his family away.

"It’ll be better," Edith said. "You’ll like the farm, Robbie. There’s lots of room to play, lots of animals."

"I could paint them," Robbie said. He dropped his shoulders. "But my watercolors are still at home."

"We’ll get you new ones. Better ones. All the colors you want," Edith said, hugging her son. "See," she said to Maggie, "the ocean does heal."

"I’m better," Robbie said.

Maggie smiled. Her little brother was all that mattered. Her mother, she’d never forgive. "Let’s go, then."

"Let’s," Edith added and stood. She brushed the sand from her white skirt, ringing the bells dangling from the ties. "Just one more walk in the water. Before we go."

Maggie watched her mother and Robbie a few feet in front of her, how their feet left their marks on the sand, only to be washed away again. Robbie laughed, for the first time since Maggie could remember.

"Edith," a voice came from the camp ground. "Edith!"

Maggie looked up to see her father, in his crookedly buttoned police uniform. He swayed, cupping his hand over his eyes to see them.

"No," her mother mumbled. She hesitated. Maggie caught up with her mother, feeling the weight of the ocean water drag on her jeans.

"You have to come back," Maggie heard her father yell, slurring his words, obviously drunk. "You belong with me."

"No," was all Edith said. The water lapped against her ankles, wetting her skirt. "No more. I need to…" her voice trailed as she saw the gun. "Bob, no."

Maggie watched her father sway, squint. He wiped his eyes with the palm of his left hand. "You’re killing our family, Edith. I can’t let you do that."

The others from the camp, seeing the gun, hearing Maggie’s father yell, ran to the camp ground, leaving the family of four alone on the beach. "Bob, we can talk," Edith said. "Put the gun down."

Maggie stood frozen. Robbie hung from her legs, grabbed her pocket with his little fingers. He tugged at the band of her jeans, and she pushed his hand away.

"Bob."

"You can’t go," her father cried.

Edith reached, as if she could take the gun from the twenty feet they stood apart.

Maggie heard her father cry out, then bursts of fire came from his gun, and loud bangs, one, two, three, four. She felt her leg burn.

Her mother fell into the water next to her. "Bob," she groaned.

Maggie looked at her leg. It was bleeding on the side, but it looked like the bullet just grazed her thigh.

Her mother lay unconscious as blood pooled near her side, washing the water a muddled pink. Her white skirt turned a bright red, the tiny bells clumped together by sand and blood.

She was dead.

"God, god," Maggie heard her father behind her as she kneeled. His cries dissipated as he ran away. She touched her mothers face, crying.

Then she saw Robbie.

The little guy had been hiding behind his mother, playing with the bells on her skirt, since Maggie had pushed him away.

He was shot in his shoulder, and once in his head. The water was already red all around him, like a dark halo ready to swallow him whole.

"No," Maggie cried, her teeth clenched. "Nonono."

She lifted her brother from the ocean’s surf, his body limp, bloody water dripping from his head as Maggie clutched him to her chest. She walked deeper into the water, thinking of her mother’s words. The ocean heals. Maggie held her brother as the ocean washed away the blood, waiting, crying, praying her mother was right.

***

The water cooled Maggie’s feet. As the waves withdrew, the ocean tugged at the sand under her feet. How much of Robbie was still out here in the water? She’d held him until the ambulance came, and the paramedics told her to bring him back, that it was too late. Let him go, they told her.

Maggie felt the plastic badge in her pocket, the edges that poked her thigh, where a white patch of scarred skin was the only reminder of her pain.

Partners.

She’d come to leave the badge in the ocean. To let Robbie go. She had a family of her own, two sons who looked nothing like Robbie, but sometimes tugged her pants like her little brother did. Maggie spent years wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t swatted Robbie’s hand away. Maybe he would’ve been hiding behind her then, instead of behind her mother. Maybe he would have lived.

"Maggie?"

Her heart leaped as she turned. Her husband Sam walked in the sand, holding their sons’ hands.

"I’m sorry if we’re here too soon. These guys were done playing," he said.

"It’s fine," Maggie said. She took her boys’ hands and watched them light up as their feet got wet.

"Are you done?" Sam asked.

Maggie hesitated. She’d come to say goodbye. To leave Robbie, let the ocean take his plastic badge. "I’m done," she said. "I’m keeping it."

Sam nodded and kissed her on the cheek.

The ocean forgets, Maggie thought. And I don’t want to.