A cello plays the same haunting tune over and over in my head as I frantically run back and forth across the beach. The sea’s green waves crash angrily against the shore. Its white frothy water slowly sizzles into the sand, mourning with me. It’s taking too long. I can’t find her. She’s probably already gone.
Further down the coastline I catch a glimpse of her boat. My legs fumble clumsily over the fine grain powder underneath my feet while I dash over to the wreck. Seeing the small vessel upright gives me some hope, but the moment vanishes quickly when I climb aboard. Panting, my hands sweaty, I pry open the aft cabin door.
There’s no mess. I expected a mess. Squeezing through a narrow opening, I see her tucked into a small open compartment. She’s on her knees, hunched over into a ball. My hands reach out to her body and impulsively reach for her shoulders. Screaming her name and shaking her body, I feel her back partially rise as if she took a breath.
Letting go of her shoulders, I back up against the wall. My head bumps onto the cold window pane. It’s only then that I notice the tears gliding down my cheeks. With each gasp of air I whisper, “please, please, please.”
Her head lifts slightly and slowly turns towards me. Hair partially masking the features of her face, eyes dripping with exhaustion, she struggles to make contact. The left side of her lips quiver, edging upward, fighting to form a partial smile.
For an instant she seems satisfied. Her eyelids shudder and close. They never open again.
Talk to me, Goose.