GEMSTONE BEACH

This story is based on a beach close to where I live. First time I went was just after a rainfall and it was like walking through a galaxy. Next time was dry and unremarkable, it’s the wetness that brings out the best in rocks, now I only go when it’s raining.

Here’s Gemstone Beach. Hope you enjoy it.

It’s been raining since April yet the water is lower than ever. There’s a newly revealed rock that looks like the hood of a car and all sorts of imaginary accidents play in my head before I finally agree with Maggie that it’s a rock. But I don’t entirely agree. I can’t believe such a gigantic thing has kept its secret for so long.

I was born in this house and thought I knew everything.

And then around the curve, another.

What else goes on that I don’t know about?

They’re massive but I keep losing sight of them, they get absorbed into the fog, and then I get them again with a crash like chewing tinfoil. Three more around the next bend. This time I say it out loud.

What else goes on that I don’t know about?

I was walking with my sister Maggie, we’d come back to decide what to do with the house, and when you’re talking about the place where you grew up, it’s not something you can do all at once.

It was her idea to go for a walk. She could see how hard it was for me. She said let’s go to Gemstone Beach.

And then she told me Claire was coming.

But first, our beach.

It’s mostly rocks, but before you let rocks similar in size and colour roll into your head, let me tell you, our beach is an exuberation of rocks, like the playground of a giant child, celestial rocks of glass and gold and words you’d have to invent gathered in ridiculous quantity and proportion. Some are big as trains – there might even be planets – but we only see what pokes out like the way icebergs are. You’d have to make up their colours. Spriken or Youtza or Lomury. Some are so extraordinarily dark the word black doesn’t even come close. Others have stripes like slices of light. You can see the similarities between some of them like family, you can match them up like a puzzle.

When?

When what?

When’s Claire coming?

Now. She’s coming now. Today.

Claire was our childhood summer friend. As soon as school was out there she was at her grandparents place way up the other side of the creek – we used to call it whisper house it was so dead quiet up there – but really, she lived with us.

Everybody knew I was in love with her, they teased me until they realized how severe it was, and then they just watched.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to not be in love with Claire.

Whenever I have a new girlfriend I forget about her a little more, but also a little less if you know what I mean.

We’ve already turned back, the fog is gone and all the new rocks are perfectly visible. I am significantly stunned. But if you’re talking about being blindsided, these new rocks have nothing on Claire.