James Heaton copyright 2024

On the coast of Western California, on a rocky beach sits an old Airstream RV. Nothing around but the cliff and the truck that was parked on the rocks. It was desolate and peaceful.

Under the shade of the awning sits a man with his German Shepard. He is young, maybe thirty-five, maybe even fifty but looking at him you really couldn’t tell. He had years of baggage that hung from his bearded face. White hair mixed with deep brown, he no longer colors his hair or his beard, no those days are gone. The time when he cared what he looked like was over. He made his living writing and the RV was his home. It was his office and his entire life.

It had been over a year since he left the apartment in Pasadena and headed North to a desolate beach that nobody owned claimed to. He was alone and that is exactly what he wanted. He wanted the silence and the isolation. He wanted her.

But she had graduated college and got her master’s degree in Anthropology and there was nothing left in California for her. They had dated for five years, five long years. She said there was a big world out there for her to study and an opportunity opened up for her in South America. But he had no desire to leave California. So, they came to an impasse. It happens every day, two people who seemed to be on the same path come to a crossroads and neither is willing to give. Sure, he could have went to South America and lived in a little town and wrote his novels. But here he was, on the rocky beach where he liked it. Had it all been a mistake? Had the God of ocean tides forsaken him? Had the world left him behind and with nothing but the rocky shore and the oceans voice. But what does the water do? It carries things away, everything but pain.

He gave up the apartment two weeks after she left and gave her an address to a PO Box where his mail would be delivered. She was torn about staying with him and following her heart. Her heart won that battle. So, he waited, waited for one day when she would return. The first week was the hardest, the booze and the weed that never worked to take all the pain away, but it helped. Now he spent his days surfing and writing and drinking to a woman who was thousands of miles away. She sent him postcards at first and he wrote her. He told her he would be fine and that he just needed to be alone. But still the postcards came, one a month.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave this place and join her as she begged him too. He just wrote back and told her he was in a new home and had books to finish, a move wasn’t possible.

She respected that. She knew California was home to him and leaving would be too much for his mental state. His damn mental state. Why did he have to be bipolar? Why did he have this curse. Change didn’t come easy and his surroundings kept him sane. Sharing that apartment with her day in and day out brought him joy. It was easy, he didn’t have to fight the demons in his head. All the damn meds were doing their job but now he was dark. And that was never a good thing. The valium didn’t help like it once did. The alcohol helped more, it eased the pain and hell who gave a shit if he lived or died. His parents had died five years ago and he dealt with that. It took a lot of rum to curb the pain but he made it without a hospital stay. And that was what his doctor wanted for him, a stay at a nice little hospital where they would have group sessions and talk about their feelings and share their pain. But that wasn’t for him and he told his doctor he didn’t have any intentions of killing himself. That was a lie, it was a voice in his head that talked all the time. It said, just end it. It said a lot of ignorant bullshit. But the good side of his head told him she would come back. It told him just to hold onto her memory to make this madness end. The voices were always there and that was what nobody seemed to understand. The fact that he had two voices in his head, the good side and the bad. He controlled the bad side as best as he could, tiny outburst of anger and things said he couldn’t take back.

They came when he let his guard down. One of the reasons he only went out once a month. He put his headphones on and shopped in the crowded store for the food he needed and the dog food that was always needed to keep Sunshine happy. He didn’t speak to anyone and nobody spoke to him, he exchanged pleasantries with the clerk but said nothing to anyone else.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last conversation he had with a human. He had stopped calling them people because he didn’t know them, nor did he care too. They were just other humans stuck on this damn rock with everyone else.

But in a little while all the voices just faded away thanks to the weed that he smoked every night around the fire. The politicians could argue that weed was bad in everyway but it was saving his life night after night. Just a little peace as he sat by the campfire whittling little sticks down with his knife. There were things that he loved, he loved his home and his dog, he loved surfing every day in the icy cold waters and he loved that knife.

His father had given it to him when he was twelve and told him how to hold it, how to use it and how to care for it. It had been his fathers salvation in Vietnam on more than one occasion and he cherished it. It had a leather handle and a black blade that had aged with time, like a fine wine. It only got better with age. And it sat beside him every night on the table beside his favorite chair in its leather sheath that was stamped with a Marine Corp emblem. His father had been a tough ass but he loved him and missed him every now and again.

Night after night he sat with Sunshine, his German Shepard and watched the stars and the waves. The dark was his favorite time. He loved the campfires; he loved the beer and the cool air that blew by as he smoked his little cigarillos. Sunshine just curled up on her blanket by the fire watching him whittle stick after stick and then tossing them in the fire.

During the day he spent bent over the computer writing about suspense and danger, people risking their lives for glory. His books sold well and he occasionally ventured out with Sunshine to book signings. Everyone always loved Sunshine, they doted over her. And so did he, after all she was the one who stayed and never left him. She was his companion now and he took her everywhere.

On the days he surfed he found peace while Sunshine waited for him at the waters edge. His RV was parked at a hard to reach surf spot and very few surfers ever ventured out to his area. The break was amazing, it hit the sandbar in the distance and built up the waves to six foot and they broke right trailing onto the rocky shore. It was glorious to watch the big waves building and crashing and the sound was soothing to his broken heart.

There had been storms that blew through, he surfed them all. He was just tired of being here, being here on Earth. She had left and it had torn a hole in his heart so wide that he could fit the entire galaxy inside it. She held his hand for so long and now he was alone. But there had to be a life outside of this madness. There had to be a break in the world that would allow him a little peace. Something good, and not another call from his agent checking in on him and making sure he was meeting deadlines. For God sake he was working daily, he always made deadlines. Why wouldn’t she just talk to him like a human? Ask him how his day was or ask him if he was falling down some fucking hole in the ground. She only cared about money and deadlines and he made her money, plenty of it. People devoured his books and wanted more and more. He pulled the stories from his brain because it was always on. Writers block, what the hell was that? He had never sat and stared at a page and not had something to write, no the voices took care of that. He just sat down and typed out what they said.

He had to say, his mind was a genius. The way it came up with story after story. Maybe it was the way he had his workspace set up. Two computers, one to write on and one to research on. He had candles everywhere and he liked classical music, mostly classical guitar. It played while he wrote, he could never write to music with words because they interrupted the flow of his minds voice.

It was a Tuesday and that meant time to go to the store and check his Post Office Box.  In it was a package from some city in South America. He shook it, it sounded solid and hard. He would wait to open it back home but for now he had to take Sunshine for food. He let her pick out what she wanted, she knew the kind she liked and he bought it for her.

Streets so full of people, the anxiety struck him hard and he downed a valium. It helped with the anxiety of leaving home. God he was fucked up. He couldn’t even run down to the store or the post office without having a panic attack. Sunshine helped, she knew when he was having an attack and she would put her head on his lap, looking up to him as if to say, its gonna be alright. And that always calmed him down. She had a power over him.

Back at the RV he unloaded packages and filled up the dog food container. He bought two steaks, one for him and one for Sunshine. She deserved it, she had been there for him today. And he needed her so badly.

He made his way to the package and pulled out the knife and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace with an ancient stone on the end. It was beautiful to behold, it was ancient. And inside was a note.

Jason,

This is a necklace that we found on our dig; I wasn’t supposed to take it but I wanted you to have it. It made me think of you. Everything does. I hope your doing well and taking your meds, please don’t stop taking them. I might be coming home at the end of summer and I would love to see you. But I understand if that is too much for you. When it rains here I think of you out surfing. How you love to surf in the rain. I’m sorry I had to leave, but why study for eight years and do nothing with it. It would be like you not writing, you would go insane. This is what I needed to do and I miss you.

Yours always,

Sylvia

Two days later he took the necklace to a jeweler and asked if they could restring it and make it more secure, he was sure the string holding it together wouldn’t last for everyday wear. They promised to make it unbreakable and told him he could pick it up in a week.

That night he sat in his chair and fed the fire, little twigs here and there and larger logs to make it burn bright. He ate his Pad Thai and Sunshine watched.

He thought, if I could just find a cure, I would take anything to make all this go away. And he would, he would do anything to make the voices stop even if it meant no more writing. He knew of Hemingway and his bipolar disorder and he vowed never to end his life the same way but damn was it hard. So many nights he got so dark that he would take a handful of valium and wash it down with a beer. And he would float in his chair, high into the clouds. He could see the RV sitting on the rocks and the truck parked beside it. He could see the ocean and its brilliance; he could see the waves build and crash and he wanted to soar high into the sky and plunge deep into the ocean and just stop. Just stop breathing, just stop everything. All the noise, all the voices and most of all, that damn heart beat that meant he was alive.

The cold came and left and the warm weather brought out more surfers, but they stayed away from him. They never tried to talk to him and they respected the property he laid claim to. They had their fun and he watched them. He loved watching them and often smiled at them. And it was a real smile, he really was happy for them. They were free in the water; they were all free out here. Free from any constraints. Free to live their lives in the water, but eventually they all went home and he was left alone in the water. Legs dangling in the water and waiting for that last wave to carry him in.

He received a post card from Sylvia saying she would be home in July and that she wanted to come see him. He wrote her back the address and told her it was remote and to be careful on the rocks. And then he mailed his letter back to the little town in South America.

And the voices went crazy with the thought of her return. The bad voice said she would only break his heart again. It told him to just end it before that great pain came again. But the good voice said to hold it together, that maybe she would stay and he could have his life back again. He listened to the good voice and sat in his chair watching the ocean. He could see the dolphins in the distance, their dorsal fins popping over the surface of the water and he fell asleep dreaming of being a dolphin. Just swimming in the ocean together with their pod and exploring every reef and chasing fish. They had the perfect life and didn’t even know it. They weren’t stupid animals; no, they were intelligent and he loved to play with them when they would swim up to him and make contact.

It was always magical when a dolphin approached out of curiosity and let him pet them. He had named them Marylin and Vincent. Two people he loved, Marylin Monroe and Vincent Van Gogh, two more of his bipolar idols. But all his idols took their own lives, would he one day do the same? And that he thought about so much. How would it all end for him, he knew that seventy five percent of bipolar people killed themselves, he had read that in a brochure the doctor gave him about the importance of staying on his meds. Bullshit he thought, we all die. Some of us just decide when and how.

But Sylvia would be here in a month. He felt the urge to straighten up the RV, to finally make his bed and wash his sheets. He swept the inside, so much sand. He put everything in its place, everything but his writing shrine. With his little golden bust of Hemingway sitting right up front. “Start with one true sentence.” The words read, it was a quote from Hemingway that he had framed on the wall next to another quote that read, “We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.” But he found it strange to take quotes from a man who killed himself. And right after electroshock therapy.

Jason had been there, he had ECT done and regretted it. There was too much noise after his parents death and checked himself into the hospital. They did eight sessions before he cried out, this is too much. His mind was leaving him and he needed at least a little of the insanity to write. But what if he had done the fifteen sessions like they wanted him too? What would have happened to him? It took him two years to recover from the shocks to his brain, he had to learn to surf all over again. He went months with no words to write. He told his agent he needed a break and they moved the release of his book up a few months. Surely he could finish it by then. And he did. But it was his worst work, but the fans loved it. They all said it was a voice they hadn’t heard from him. Could it be his true self?

He thought about that a lot, who would he be without the meds? Would he be a deranged maniac or would he immediately kill himself. It was those thoughts that kept him on the meds. Twenty years of taking the cocktail every morning and every night. Thank God he had insurance, the meds would have bankrupted him alone.

He sat in his chair drinking a beer and smoking a cigarillo like he did every night. But tonight, there was a meteor shower and it was breathtaking. He and Sunshine just sat there watching as the stars flew across the sky. Maybe I’ll try. Maybe I’ll try to hang in there until I see Sylvia again.

The next day he went and picked up the necklace, the owner told him it was South American and was very old, old enough to be in a museum, he even offered to buy it for a few thousand, but Jason just said not today. He put the necklace on and tugged on it, it was strong and that’s what he wanted. He never wanted to take it off or loose it. It was a part of her, a piece of her heart that she sent him. Surely she loved him if she would take a piece of history and send it to him instead of turning it over to the museum. Maybe.

July came and Jason was out surfing when a car pulled up beside his truck, he didn’t recognize it but he recognized the driver. He paddled hard and caught a wave, he tore down the face and raced up the wall of water and launched off the top and landed as he rode the board into the rocks. He picked up his board and undid his leash and ran to meet her.

“You are really looking good out there. I guess you surf everyday don’t you?” She said.

“Yeah, I surf, I write, I drink and I do it again. That’s my life, just the way I like it.” He said.

They hugged and it was all he could do to keep from crying. Those damn emotional breaks that flooded his brain, one minute he was mad the next he was crying. But he held strong and held back those damn tears.

“I’m happy for you. But I’m concerned about you. You’ve secluded yourself so much, no neighbors or people anywhere. Is this where you want to be or where you need to be?” She asked with much concern.

“Its where I need to be. Come on over and have a seat. I’ll order food and start a fire.” He said as Sunshine came running up and jumped up on Sylvia. She loved on her and told her how much she missed her.

“She’s missed you too.” He said.

“I see your wearing the necklace.” He told her of how he had it restrung with metal wire so it wouldn’t break and she was impressed.

“You like it that much?” She asked.

“It’s a piece of you, of course I like it.”

He fixed the fire and order Thai food, her favorite and they sat on the chairs by the fire and had a beer together.

She wanted to know how he had been. He lied and said he was fine, but she knew the truth.

“Tell me the truth. You don’t do well with change. And this is a pretty secluded place to leave and judging by your trash can you drink a lot of beer. And knowing you, you stick to a strict schedule, you write in the morning, surf in the afternoon or whenever high tide comes in. You feed Sunshine steaks every week and you spend your nights staring at the ocean and falling asleep in this chair.”

“You know me well. I think you got it all.” He said as he whittled the wooden sticks with his knife.

“Listen, I know you aren’t doing well. I know you. I can smell the booze and the weed and I bet you eat valium like candy. You’re on deaths door aren’t you?”

“You know me too well. I cant lie, its been hell. Its been a lifetime since you left and I have been doing everything to stay alive. But I’m not saying that to guilt you into anything. I don’t do that. I’ve just been killing time, writing another damn book while I wait for you.”

“You let your beard go grey and your hair is long. When’s the last time you went for a trim?”

“Two weeks before you left. I don’t have any reason to look good. I try to look nice for book signings but I look nothing like my photo on the books, that picture was when I was happy.”

“I love you Jason.”

“How the hell do you love me, I don’t even love myself?”

“How can you say that?” She asked.

He had held back the tears as long as he could. He put his hands over his face and started crying.

“Because it’s the truth. I’m a fucking mess. I have two voices in my head screaming at me all the time. I cant even go to the store without headphones and valium. I moved out here to be away from everyone. Since you left I just lost the will to live.”

“You cant live your life for one person, but I’m back and I’m staying.” He looked up and stared at her eye to eye, something he had so much trouble doing.

“You mean it? Does that mean your coming back to me?” He asked as he slid forward on the chair.

“Baby I never left you; I was always yours. I just needed to go on the dig and put things in perspective. I spent eight years studying books full of beautiful finds and never found a thing in real life. I needed to find myself. And it killed me to leave you. I have worried myself sick wandering if you have killed yourself or if you went off your meds. All I had was post cards and nothing else. You could have talked with me every day on the computer if you wanted too, but you’ve been too busy trying to destroy yourself. This love we have; it isn’t easy but I would never leave you. I tried to make you understand that, but all you saw was me leaving for good.”

“I just thought that you would move onto another project and then another and then one day the postcards would stop. And seeing your face everyday would have killed me. I wanted to message with you so much, but I built it up and tore it down, left all the pieces on the ground. You are all that I have, you and Sunshine.”

“Listen the University wants to make me a junior professor, I just need to get my PHD. That means four more years of school and then I can be a real professor. Sure, I will go away on occasional digs but that doesn’t mean we end. I need you to come back home. We can find a new place and you can be with me. You can be right beside me, day in and day out. You have a mental disability and you need someone to take care of you. I want to be that person. You are all I have too.”

Jason thought, he heard the good voice say, I told you so. The bad voice was silent. He thought about what all this meant, he thought about all the restless nights, all the mini-overdoses that he did night after night, just to escape the pain, and here in front of him was a real escape.

“Hold on a second. I need to get something from my desk.”

Just like him, she thought, his mind is so full of thoughts he cant possibly concentrate on one thing. Her heart broke for him, she looked at the knife sitting on the side table and wondered how many nights he thought of ending it. She wondered how many times he came close. Tears rolled down her face, he was killing her with this. But she loved him so much she couldn’t let go. No matter how fucked up his brain was she needed to love him, it was her soul purpose in this fucked up world. Until there is nothing left, that’s how far she would go.

Jason popped out of the RV, it swayed with his motion and he rushed over to her side and went down on one knee.

“I bought this two weeks before you left. I had planned a big deal and was going to make it special but then you said you were leaving. I thought the worst. Damn this brain, all I heard was leaving, leaving, leaving and I couldn’t pull myself out of the darkness to hear you ever say you were coming back. So, I want to give this to you know. I’ve stared at it every day and dreamed of nothing but asking you to marry me. I wanted to ask you so bad.”

“Oh my God Jason! You were going to propose to me? Why wouldn’t you have said so! Of course I will marry you. We need each other. Yes, yes I will marry you. I love you.”

And the dark voice was silent. It would come back but when it did everything would be better, he would have a home with his wife and when she needed to leave he could go with her or stay at home and make it through her absence. He knew that he could do it, this was all he ever wanted.

One year later…

Jason was a new man, freshly shaved and a clean haircut. And he wasn’t alone, he had his wife by his side. He was packing the car to go to a book signing. Sunshine was coming too. Sylvia was packing her SUV with her gear. It had been years since he felt this good.

“You know this is only for six months right?” She asked him.

“Yeah, I heard you and I understand. I know you will return. I promise to stay on my meds and no more beer. I’ll go easy on the valium and we can Skype every day. Its going to be hard. But I can do this.”

“Good because I need this for school, its going to go a long way in my PHD. And baby, remember its you and me against the world, no need for you to hurt yourself or break down. I’ll be a computer screen away from you and we can talk every chance I get. You going surfing tomorrow?”

“Yeah, big swell coming in at Mavericks and I want to be there for it.”

“Be careful and take care of yourself, I am right here with you. I promise.”

And with that she left.

The good side of his brain said, listen to her. But the bad side of his brain said, this is it, she will never return.

Jason just said, “Fuck you, she’s coming back. Now go back to sleep and leave me alone.”

He would be fine, he just needed to take it one day at a time, that’s all any of us can ever do.

Sunshine was ready for the ride, she barked for her master to hurry up.

The End