Silent Love

         There's something magical about the ocean. It's the fact that you never know exactly what's going on beneath its surface. It's the color it becomes when the sun sets behind it. It's how the waves lap hungrily at the shore, leaving a different print in the sand every time they reach out to grab it. I'm not quite sure what it is. All I know is that there's something beautiful about the sea that I love. Something I've always loved.
         I've lived in a small town by the ocean all my life. My childhood memories are filled with chasing seagulls, picnics on the beach and learning to swim before I could even walk. Every night I'm lulled to sleep by the sound of its waves crashing against rocks. Well, not every night.  We once went on a five day trip to England, and I could barely sleep. I was homesick; not for our house, not for my best friend Julie, but for the sounds and smells of the ocean.

         My fondest memory is of a time when I was fourteen. I am sitting by the window, brushing my hair and staring out at the vast sea. There's a knock at my door.
         "Yeah?" I call out.
         "It's Paul." comes a reply. I freeze.
         Paul's my brother's friend. He has brown hair, green eyes, likes rock music and The Simpsons. I should know. I've spent at least half my life trying to get him to notice me. When Julie first moved into the house next to ours, we ended up being friends just because we both liked him. At first we argued a lot over who should get him. No matter what excuse Julie came up with, I'd always end up backing myself out with the 'I saw him first' line. In the end however, we decided to combine forces and 'share' him.
         "Oh...um...one sec." I desperately glance around my room for anything that might seem even the least bit geeky. I stick random stuffed animals into my closet. I scoop up a few butterfly clips and throw them into an open drawer. A copy of Moby Dick gets shoved into my desk. Then, I catch my breath, give my hair one last brush, and open the door.
         "Hi!" I almost shout the greeting.
         "Hey." he says, in a dull voice. Somehow, he doesn't seem as happy to see me. "Have you seen Tom?"
         Tom. My twin brother.
         "Um, I'm not sure...I just woke up." I catch myself. Why on earth did I tell him that? I take a deep breath and try to think straight. "I think he might have gone to the mall." My palms are sweating by the time I'm done.
         "Oh." he replies. "Ok." Then he walks off.
         For a moment I stand there blinking as he disappears round the corner. I feel let down.  Somehow, I think I was expecting more. I feel as if all my efforts have gone to waste.
         I close the door and retrieve Moby Dick from its hiding place in the drawer. Some of the pages are ruffled. I smooth them out and slide it into my backpack. Then I dress into my bathing suit and put some clothes on over it.
         Then I'm outside. I'm running towards the ocean. I can already feel it swishing around my legs; I can already taste its salty essence on my lips.
         I reach the water's edge and abandon my bag. I slip out of my tank top and jeans and run into the water. I can see Julie waving in the distance. I smile and return the greeting. Being here, amongst the waves is without a doubt my favorite place in the world.

         The sun's setting when we walk back home together. We live in one of those towns where everybody knows everyone and, if you lived there long enough, you'd know every house, every road, like the back of your hand. Ever since I can remember I've been able to navigate its streets with my eyes closed.
         Julie's talking about something but I don't really care. I let my footsteps fall into sync with hers and nod blankly when she asks me a question, but I'm not really listening. I'm tired. At the moment, all I really want to do is curl up in my room and sink into my book.
         I wave goodbye to Julie, open the door and slip inside. As I walk past the living room, I feel my heart stop. Paul's sitting on our couch. He's staring at the TV screen and playing some video game. Tom's sitting next to him, his fingers flying over a controller.
         Even though we're twins, Tom and I are exact opposites. I like to read, he likes video games. I like vanilla, he likes chocolate. I like the ocean, he likes the skate shop. The only thing we share is our black hair and eyes, but most brothers and sisters look alike anyway. He even looks older than me, which is why he hangs around with Paul who is, by the way, 16; two years our senior.
         I calm my nerves and step into the living room. "Hey." I say. Paul grunts in reply. Tom says nothing. I search through my mind, trying desperately to find something witty to say next. Nothing comes to me so I sit on the arm of the couch. After a while Tom and Paul start chatting. I listen in, just happy to be part of their conversation, even if I don't say a word.
         At first they just talk about sports, but then Paul changes the subject.
         "My uncle and aunt are coming tomorrow." he says. I'm surprised. I've never heard of Paul's family before, except for his parents.
         "Cool." replies Tom. There's a short silence, filled only by the sound of digital characters blowing each other to smithereens. "Are they bringing Peter?"
         "Yeah."
         "Oh."
         A few more moments pass and I watch them exchange knowing looks. The suspense is killing me. "Who's Peter?" I ask.
         Paul presses down on a few more buttons. "My cousin."
         I smile. "Oh, cool."
         "Sure." Paul replies. "He's kind of weird though."
         "Really? Why?" I'm on cloud nine. We're having a conversation! And it's not a conversation about Tom either. It's about something completely irrelevant to him.
         Paul stops me in mid-thought with his answer. "He's deaf."
         There's an awkward silence. "Oh." I say. I'm not sure what to say next. There isn't really much else to say.
         "Elly!" calls my mom from the kitchen. "Come help me with dinner, will you?"
         Paul and Tom don't seem to notice me leaving. I slip out into the kitchen.

         A few more days go by. I swim, read and bask in the summer heat. I tell Julie about talking to Paul about his cousin, but she barely seems interested. After a few moments of awkward confusion, she informs me that while I wasn't listening, she was talking about a new crush, someone from our class last year. I don't give up, though. I'm still determined to make Paul notice me. I start thinking of new ways to achieve the connection that I felt between us when he was over. I start lying around our house, doing nothing, just trying to think of things to say next time I see him. Moby Dick goes unread.
         After those few days pass my mom announces that she's invited Paul's family and their visitors over for dinner. It takes me a bit to remember exactly who 'the visitors' are. Paul's all I've been thinking about the past few days.
         That night I meet them for the first time. There isn't much to say about Paul's aunt and uncle. They're both quite stout people, with red hair and dull features. They barely smile. To tell the truth, I don't pay much attention to them. I just sit there listening to Paul talk to my brother until I hear Dad calling my name.
         "Elly, why don't you go show Peter your room?" he asks. It's not a question. It's an order.
         For the first time I notice the boy sitting near the end of the table. I think he's about my age, but I can't really tell; I can't see his face. He's looking down at his food, obviously bored. I watch as his mom taps him on the shoulder. When he looks up, I get a good look at his face. I was right, he is my age. He has short curls of dark brown hair and eyes-I feel my skin crawl-exactly the color of the ocean. They're eyes you could get lost in.
         I can't help but watch as his mother begins to sign to him. Her hands fly all over the place and I'm fascinated. I can't tell how there could be any words in there. But Peter seems to understand. He nods and throws a soft smile my way. I can't help but notice that he has a nice smile.
         I get up from the table and walk upstairs, still dazzled by those eyes of his. But then I hear him following me and I remember that he's deaf. I can't help but feel angry at my dad for asking me to hang out with him. How am I supposed to even talk to him? Why couldn't he have asked Tom?
         I open the door to my room. Peter follows. I sit down at my desk and log on to the computer, trying to ignore him. Don't expect me to start signing to you. I think bitterly. I'm enraged by the fact that I could be downstairs, chatting up Paul at this very moment!
         A minute goes by, and I suddenly hear the sound of pen against paper. I turn around. Peter's standing with a notepad and pen of mine in one hand. He holds it out to me. I read it. 'You like this?' It says. For a moment I'm confused. Then I realize that he's holding Moby Dick in the other hand.
         Great. Now I'm going to have to put up with his teasing. I shrug. Then I nod.
         He smiles, and then writes something else. 'It's a good book.'
         I blink a few times, stumped. Then I reach into my desk and pull out a pencil. I take the pad from him and write, 'You’ve read it?' He nods.
         I suddenly return to reality. I remember my anger towards Dad and this boy. I turn around in my seat and start IMing Julie. A minute or two passes and Peter seems to realize that I'm done talking to him. I listen as he walks down stairs. After a while I hear his family leave. I don't go downstairs to say goodbye. I'm not asked to. Instead, I lie down on my bed and read Moby Dick.

         The next morning I wake to the sounds of the waves. I lie there on my bed taking in the salty smell of the sea and then sit up. It's seven in the morning. I sit there for a while, and then decide to go out for a morning swim.
         As I walk towards the beach I can't help but smile. The water's a deep blue and seems to go on as far as the eye can see. Apart from the sound of waves there's complete silence. As I scan the dunes, I see only one person near the water. I freeze. It's Peter. I'm about to turn and go, but it's too late. He's seen me. He gives a small wave. I don't wave back.
         I simply walk across the sand and wade into the water until it's up to my thighs. Then, I inhale and dive under. The water encloses me for a split second, and then I surface. I lie on my back and let the current take me where it will. I put all my trust in it.
         It's normally a serene, peaceful experience, but not today. I can feel Peter's gaze plowing into me, even though my eyes are closed. I open them. I catch him looking at me, but the moment I do, he looks away. He fingers a smooth rock, leans back, and throws it. It bounces off the surface of the water one, two, three, four times.
         I'm impressed! I've been trying to skip rocks since I was five, only I've never succeeded. It's been the one secret the ocean won't let me in on. I can't help but paddle over to the shore and walk over to him. I pick up a rock. It feels cool in my hand. I run my fingers over its smooth surface, take a deep breath, and throw it across the water as fast as I can. It sinks instantly.
         I blush and brace myself for laughter, but none comes. Instead I feel Peter's hand in mine. I look down as he pushes another rock into my hand and moves my fingers into the correct places. Then, he mimics a throwing action with his arm a few times. I nod, take another breath and throw. The rock skips two times.
         I can't believe it! I look to my left, smiling, expecting to see Peter, but there's nothing. I turn around just in time to see him walking away, hands in his pockets. At the last moment he looks back at me, and I can see he's smiling. I can't help it. I grin back.

         A single ray of sunlight weaves its way through the curtains and into my bedroom. I'm lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what's going through my mind. I pull the bed covers over my head and reach for Moby Dick. I've been on and off it all day, reading only when I can't stand my own thoughts anymore. It hasn't worked. The words have just slipped through my mind like water through my fingers; I haven't even noticed what they've been trying to tell me.
         I try to think of Paul, but all I can see in my mind's eye is how Peter looked when he smiled at me, how he likes the same books as me, how his hand felt in mine. There's a hole in my heart that no book can plug up. I feel as though I'm leaking.
         I can't be in love with Peter! We've only known each other for a few days; only met twice; only talked once! And that wasn't even talking! Besides, I'm madly in love with Paul! I always have been! Even as I say this to myself, I know it's not true. Paul's a crush, someone I'd have liked to have loved, but Peter's different. He noticed me. He was interested in me. He struggled to talk to me even though it was hard for him. And I pushed him away. I misjudged and disrespected him. Why? Because Paul thought he was weird?
         There's a knock on my door. "Elly!" calls my mom's voice. "Peter's family's leaving, we're going to go say goodbye. Do you want to come?"
         They're leaving. I lie in emotional pain for a few seconds, trying to consider my choices. No. I've caused Peter enough pain already by pushing him away; I don't want to make it worse for both of us.
         "I...I feel a bit sick." I moan. It's not a complete lie. "You guys go without me."
         After listening to mom ramble on about what medicine to take, I finally reach over to read some more Moby Dick. There are only a few more pages left. I lie there in silence, try to piece together what I know of the plot and read.
         Then, without warning, I'm finished. One moment I'm reading about Ishmael's adventures on the sea and then next I'm staring blankly at the book cover. A few seconds pass, and then I flip back to the final sentence.

         'It was the devious cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.'

         I feel lost. Not because I'm in the middle of the ocean hunting for some whale that I can't find. Not because I'm trapped, both crewless and shipless surrounded by the sea. I feel as if I am the orphan, lost and deserted with no hope. Only I was the one to desert someone I loved. I'm not the one who's been let down. I feel lost because I'm without him. I get out of bed and open the curtains, my heart sinking into a bottomless pit. I've ruined all my chances.
         Is there still time to fix it? I look around and spot the book lying on my bed. I grab it and quickly change out of my pajamas into some proper clothes. I'm about to run outside when there's a knock at my bedroom door. I open it. It's Peter.
         For a few seconds we stand quietly, staring at each other. Even if he could hear me, I'd have no idea what to say. I can feel his beautiful blue eyes cutting through mine like a knife through butter. Finally, I present my peace offering; I hand him Moby Dick.
         For a moment he seems surprised, and then he smiles. I want to smile back, but somehow I can't. I wish I could tell him just how sorry I am; tell him how I really feel. Finally, he takes my hand in his, raises it to his lips and kisses it.
         It's such a small gesture, but I feel as if there's so much more behind it. Things that he wants to tell me but can't. I smile. He smiles back, turns around and walks away, Moby Dick in hand. I wait a few minutes, and then close my eyes. Outside, I can hear the sound of a car starting up, a group of people bidding each other goodbye, a car door slamming, and the waves crashing against rocks.
         I walk to the window and watch as a small, blue car drives down the road away from our house. I watch as it gets further and further away, until it finally merges with the ocean as my eyes blur with tears.