sea-swelled, ben

[anika boehm]

Anika closed her eyes softly. The sun’s warmth coated her cheeks and eyelids. A dusky rose color glowed beneath her closed eyes. A strong gall of wind tangled itself into her hair, wrapping around her body in a furious embrace. The smell of the sea soon stung her senses. She smiled at the sensation. The sea was never the smell of salt as so many had described it. She thought of the seaweed soup she had eaten on the shores of the Baltic Sea. Its slippery texture on her tongue, the taste of a place rather than a thing. That’s what the ocean air was to her, not something, but places and memories.

She opened her eyes and stared ahead. The field of long grasses seemed to suddenly blend into the pale cerulean sky. She walked ahead, slowly, brushing her fingers against the soft tips of the gold-green grass. A hum reached her lips, not of a song but a small ditty that meant nothing. She swept down to pluck a small white flower from the earth, and twirled it between her two fingers. She fastened it to a button hole of her blouse and neared to where sky and ground met.

Suddenly the precipice of a cliff came to meet her. She hovered inches from the edge, carefully peering down below. As if cut from a knife, the white cliffs jutted out into the sea. The grasses grew to the very edge, stubborn not to concede defeat. Some drooped over the edges, obscuring where grass ended and the abyss began. She thought of the story of the young daughter of the academie founders who had drowned. Sliding her foot along the crumbling edge of the cliff, she wondered if the girl had not in fact plummeted to her death. Overhead an albatross cawed its solitary groan to the wind. Her foot slipped for a moment, the race of the fall quickening her heart. She stumbled backwards, and stared with wide-eyes at the crisp line of the cliff’s edge.

She sat down as if reassuring herself of solid ground. The grass flattened like a crown around her as she sat cross-legged, staring out to the impenetrable sea. If she had fallen, who would have found her? She imagined a tide-washed body swaying against the shore as the waves brought it in. Skin, pale and slick, hair like kelp. She frowned, throwing the image aside. What made her think such morbid things? She pulled her knees in tight and pressed her cheek against them. The sun beat warm against her back. She closed her eyes and allowed the warmth to seep across her skin for a moment longer.

Who would have found me? She opened her eyes, and then thought of a name. Ben. She quickly bounded to her feet, looking around as if he would suddenly appear from the long grasses. That’s why she was here in the first place – she and Ben had agreed to explore the surrounding coast. Her pert lips tugged someway between a smile and a frown as she looked around. Her heartbeat had steadied and now she was annoyed. If there was one thing that could bring Anika to reality, it was the thought that someone else cared.

[ben casey]

Ben had always loved the ocean. Boats bobbing away in the distance, the soft, barely-audible crunch of the sand beneath his feet, a strong breeze ruffling his hair – any of these things were enough to instantly bring a smile to his face. There was just something about it that was immensely attractive to him although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why if someone had thought to ask him. The best he could manage was that it was comforting, familiar even, and yet teeming with almost endless possibilities. However well you knew the shore you could never be quite sure what you find beyond the horizon.

At the moment however he was quite content to keep his feet on dry land. Slowly winding his way up the path, which looked as if it had been there forever, to the place where he and Anika had arranged to meet was very peaceful and although he normally loved being in the centre of whatever action happened to be going on he found that he was enjoying the quiet. Only the sharp cries of the gulls circling down below intruded on his thoughts. For a minute or two he toyed with the idea of lying down on the edge of the cliff and watching them, like he had done so many times on holiday when he was a child, but eventually decided to continue on. He didn’t want to get the day off to a bad start by being late after all.

When he finally reached his destination he drew in a deep breath of sea air, convinced that he could almost taste the salt. With the sun beaming down upon his head, making it look a ridiculously bright orange into the bargain, and the long grass tickling his bare calves it was hard to think of a place he’d rather be. Whistling rather tunelessly he took a few paces towards the edge, a wide grin plastered across his freckled face. He had a feeling this was going to be a good day. However, after scanning the cliff top several times there was no sign of Anika and his smile quickly gave way to a slight frown. Almost involuntarily he looked down towards the rocks at the base of the cliff, telling himself as he did so that he was being totally paranoid.

Naturally he was more than a little relieved when he saw a blonde head suddenly spring up from the grass. Anika didn’t seem to have seen him however so with a mischievous twinkle in his eye he made his way as quietly as he could to the patch where she was standing, getting within a couple of feet before suddenly calling out her name and announcing his presence. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist!” he told her, chuckling at her surprised look. There was a slightly sheepish tone in his voice too though, an indication that he didn’t want her to be angry at him and would apologise seriously if necessary.

“You looked totally lost there,” he commented after his amusement had worn off, glancing sideways at her with what would have been a thoughtful expression had it not been for the comically raised eyebrow. He was definitely curious but, unsure whether to ask directly what she had been thinking about, thought it safer not to pry – a rare course of action for someone who resembled the proverbial nosy cat in more ways than one.

[anika boehm]

She looked across the expanse of green-gold fields that swelled into hills. The sun pressed its warm fingers against her skin, trailing freckles as it went. She sighed exasperatedly – if Ben was still asleep in their dorm, she was going to bring a little cup of the cold ocean to wake him up. As she looked ahead of her, she didn’t notice a lanky freckled figure with a flame of red atop his head. When he opened his mouth to yell out, the downy hairs along her neck stood before the words flung from his mouth.

”Anika!” A tremor of surprise shook her as the roar of his voice rose above the slosh of the waves. ”Sorry, I couldn’t resist!” She spun around, her dark brow pinching together. She sidled him a look, and rolled her eyes. Not before a smile broke across her full mouth and a light laugh caressed her lips. ”Where did you come from? And what took you so long?” She eyed his ruffled red hair, played and tossed by the sea wind. A strange part had pressed into the side of his hair though, as if he had lain on it for too long. She smiled at his disheveled appearance – it suited him.

She was about to suggest they find a path down, perhaps to search for any caves, when Ben voiced, ”You looked totally lost there.” She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. The smile had fled from her face, replaced by something unknown. A breeze curled the tendrils of her flaxen hair across her face as she stared another moment at Ben. She knew he had asked in innocence, but she couldn’t help but notice the gravity of his words. She remembered a winter in Florence, rare snow dusting the domes of the Duomo, when she had gazed up at Neapolitan colored marble. An elderly man had asked her, ” Siete persi?” She had stared at him for a moment, like she was looking at Ben now, when the elderly man voiced again in a thick Italian accent, ”Are you lost?” She had understood him the first time, but the question had jarred her. She gave Ben the same answer she had given the old Florentine man – another question.

”What makes you say that?” she asked Ben in a pleasant tone. The old Florentian had gripped his cane as he wavered slightly when she had asked him. His dark eyes had been hidden by a thick set of bushy black brows, a contrast to the tuffs of white hair that peeked out from under his cap. ”Because you do not seem to know what you want.” He gestured behind them, ”You go that way to Ponte Vecchio and la galleria.” He smiled, believing he helped, as he tipped his cap and shuffled away. She had frowned, and stared up at the immense church before her – the thick winter-gray skies hanging low atop the massive red domes.

Maybe she had wanted to remain lost.

[ben casey]

Grinning like a loon Ben tapped a finger against the side of his nose, half-recalling how the gesture had used to infuriate his mother. In spite of all her expectations he had managed to grow up a little since then but in many ways he was still the same smiley-faced ten-year-old who told bad jokes and did death defying stunts on his bike. For better or worse he couldn't really resist coming up with a jokey answer to Anika's questions, especially when her pointed look and furrowed brow gave way to a wide, genuine smile. “Would you believe I was on a top secret mission for MI6?” he asked nonchalantly, watching it play about her lips. “Or should I just come clean and say that that hill was bloody steep?” Despite the more sensible turn his explanation had just taken the tone of voice was no less light-hearted.

The wind was rather taken out of his sails however when an altogether different expression suddenly flitted across her face. Not annoyance at his antics, he was well acquainted with that, but something that he couldn't quite define. He would have called it wistful or pensive but there was a kind of sadness there too, or at least it seemed that way to him. Almost like some old scar brought suddenly back to the surface. Because of something he had said? His inner monologue having come to a halt the corners of his mouth slipped downward, as they always did when he was nervous or unsure, and he shuffled his feet awkwardly, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. He was no good in situations like these, he never knew what to say or do. Plus, raising his eyes to meet hers for a moment, he was suddenly aware of being under scrutiny. He felt as if there was something that he should be understanding here but whatever it was was just going straight over his head.

“No particular reason,” he admitted, not expecting the question. “You just looked like you were thinking about something really important, that's all.” As explanations went it sounded rather lame, even to himself, but he did at least refrain from enquiring why she asked in return. Before he could even think to elaborate further however the wind picked up and he was once again conscious of the sun's light sparkling out on the water and the coastline just waiting to be explored. “So, what's the plan? Do you think there are any smuggler's caves or anything still around?” A childhood spent reading way too many 'boy's own' adventure stories had given Ben something of a weakness for that kind of thing. He was too active to be much of a reader but tales of spies, pirates and daring fighter pilots had always managed to hold his interest. Shading his eyes he looked to his left, where the cliff began to slope downwards towards a rocky beach. Concluding that it didn't look too treacherous he turned back to Anika, smiling at the way her hair had been blown across her face. “That way do you think?”

Waiting for her response that unknown expression came back into his head again, only this time he thought he could put a name to it. Lost.