The ocean slapped against the sand and clawed back into the gray. How long had it been? There was no horizon, just a gray smudge where sky and water met. Seb still had his gown on, flapping in the wind. He had a thirst deep inside his throat moving down to his belly and out through his skin. His skin thirsted. He crawled in the dry sand toward the water. Grains collected underneath his fingernails. He kept moving forward, not knowing where he was going. If he didn't move, he would stop forever.
The sea was calling him. It said, remember all the times we've had? I will soothe you. Listen to my seashells on the shore. She sells seashells. Remember her sandcastles, remember her doll's mouth chewing up sunshine. Snapping at waves. His skin thirsted. His mouth opened and closed, trying to swallow, gulp it down. The salt got stuck in his throat. His eyes watered. The sea salt mixed in his eyes. He couldn't tell the difference. The ocean and the sky blended, the blues mixing, bleeding into each other. And there, on the side, flies buzzed and circled, collecting.
When he closed his eyes, he saw the blaze. It was not as red as he thought it should be. More white and yellow and orange. It had the same colors as Lila's hair in the sun. That time her hair had gotten tangled in pink bubblegum and he'd cut off a lock. She'd screamed, thinking it was still part of her body. Eve had soothed her, smoothed her hair down, the fine reds and golds weaving together. "It will grow back," Eve had said. He saw her red hair mixing with the fire, inhaling the oily curls, coughing, trying to breathe, trying to get to her, so many obstacles in the way. Why didn't she move? Goddamn you girl, I'm trying to help you! And Eve, where did she go? He heard her voice in the other room. But the other room was gone too. Everything burning his eyes. The heat searing his skin, his hair. So much time wasted. He remembered the sirens, more lights burning his eyes. Voices calling him. "You have to get out of there. Come here Seb," it was a voice he didn't know. Men were invading his house, reflectors and boots and thick rubber coats. He couldn't get across, couldn't reach for her, she was too buried in the flames. He felt the smoke get in his lungs, too much, he had to get out. They were calling him. Don't you see, they were calling me, what could I do? I was burning, what could I do? They were prying me out, what could I do?
He flailed in the ocean water, splashing violently, smacking the waves roaring in. Heat waves. His skin, searing. Salt water cut in. People ran toward him shouting his name. There was a group of them, all dressed alike. There were more sirens. The group got in the water, felt his splashes. His body was leathered and worn. "Come with us, Seb," one of them said, reaching a hand out. But his hair was still ignited. His skin still smoking, teeth chattering. His face, gaunt. "We'll get you warmed up."
He screamed and dunked his head into the salt water and the seagulls cried above him. Flies buzzed and hovered over the gray sand. He saw her face in its dead eye. He saw their faces in the bird's dead eyes.
They dragged him onto dry sand and strapped him to a stretcher. He screamed with the tongues ripping into his skin. They tried to calm him. "We'll take you home to the hospital where you can rest," one of them said.
"My girls!" He pulled toward the roaring waves. The sky threatened rain. The ocean curled its little finger, beckoning. ♦
