Collision

We set course for the second beach the next day. I can still smell it. There’s this tank top that I wore a lot during that trip. When I wear it, I feel vulnerable. There’s a tube of sun-proof lip balm I have, still sometimes use, and my lips taste summer in it. I am baffled by what my body remembers. Sometimes at night I can still get lost in the sensation of sleeping on a boat. The incessant rocking, back and forth, cradled in the water like a metal baby in the earth’s womb. I can put on this lip balm and I taste not only summer, but I taste the bitter salt of the journey. I feel the boat rocking. I feel the water on my skin. I feel the dirt in my shoes, the sweat on my face, the children in my arms. It all probably sounds like nonsense, but in all honesty, it is what helps me remember, so that I can share my story with you.

 

It couldn’t have taken long to reach the second beach. But it must have been several hours. Long enough for my depression to wind its way up my leg again, under my skin, back into my heart. I don’t think I expected it to go away forever, after that one glorious day with Lucas, but there had been some small gleam of hope that it would at least be over for the rest of the trip. Regardless of what I hoped for, or expected, I did lose myself to the darkness again. And, like all bad situations that seem to go away, they always get worse when they come back.

 

One of the leaders had told me earlier that the best thing for my sprained ankle would be to put it in the water. So that morning, after wrestling myself into some clothes that I didn’t mind getting wet, I gingerly walked to the back of the boat and sat down on the soaked deck, dangling my feet in the churning waves. I was on a towel, but it didn’t make a difference as I was still seated in a puddle. I don’t know how long I sat there, soothing my ankle in the rushing waters. On trips like these, time becomes irrelevant. You know it’s passing, and you know that your time away will eventually end, but all that knowledge is just sort of in the background. The stuff on the surface, the action, the emotion, is all in focus.

 

So I could have easily been sitting there forever. A forever the lasted probably about half an hour. And then we stopped.

 

Stopping in the middle of the lake would not have been my first choice of action. I am, in all honesty, terrified of lakes. I don’t mind being in a boat on a lake, and I don’t mind having my feet in a lake, but in general the darkness of them scares the crap out of me. When we stopped, I believe I was still splashing my feet about at the back of the boat. I don’t recall how exactly it happened. I remember getting up to take pictures of people diving off the other boats, and I had lunch at some point.

 

Eventually I was convinced to go swimming. I love swimming, immensely. Really I do. Just not in lakes. I contemplated the ridiculousness of that fact as I changed in the bathroom, putting my swimsuit on underneath my clothes. I reminded myself that the lake was beautiful. I forced myself to see it’s glimmering green waves, and not the murky depths below the surface. I hobbled to the back of the boat once more, and after several minutes of deliberation while people shouted at me to jump in, I launched myself into the cold water.

 

I didn’t stay long. There were a few people there with me, one of them being Nate—who I avoided with much determination. It’s difficult to avoid people while in the water, but very possible. All you have to do is swim the other way! Unfortunately, they weren’t comfortable swimming conditions. The water did feel marvelous, especially on my ankle, but everywhere I looked was endless lake water and the sight made me tremble.

 

Thankfully they decided to start moving again not long after that. We were close to the second beach, so with some struggle, I climbed back onto the boat. Once we were moving again I decided a trip to the top of the boat was in order. There was a hot tub on the top, and it was crammed full of people. We had some props left from the skits we did for the children in South Dakota, and they were playing with a few plastic pirate swords. Standing outside the hot tub, I managed to grab one from an oblivious swashbuckler, but was immediately scorned for it. Apparently, I wasn’t allowed to play. The sword was tossed around as I desperately attempted to include myself, as I hadn’t been able to for several days due to my injury. But everywhere I looked, I saw faces twisted with frustration and annoyance. I was laughing. They were scowling. With the sword in my hand, I glanced over at Lucas. A sort of tired irritation masked his face. I tossed the sword at him, and watched blearily as he missed it, and it dropped pathetically into the water between the boats.

 

The frustration levels rose. Eyes turned on me darkly, voices called and jeered, “What’d you do that for?” and I fled the top of the boat as quickly as I could. No one even watched me go.

 

Alone in the bottom of the boat, I searched for an escape of some kind. The urge to cry was pressing at me from every side and the knot in my chest was tightening. I needed to hide myself before anyone noticed I was upset, or came to find me. I stumbled to the bathroom, slid the door shut, and landed awkwardly on the toilet seat lid just as an unhindered sob broke free from my chest.

 

Despite my immense solitude, I still had the desire to keep quiet. I didn’t want anyone to hear me crying. I let out half-sobs, would stifle them in my shirt, and in moments of complete weakness I bit my thumb until it left a mark. I was overwhelmed by my own darkness, by my aloneness, by the voices telling me I wasn’t wanted or of any worth.

 

After some time I heard people running down the hall of the boat. The sound of wet feet on the linoleum, mumbling voice through the door. And then the voices weren’t mumbling. Then they were looking for me. “Has anyone seen Katie?” “I can’t find her anywhere.” No one thought to knock on the bathroom door, of course.

 

I calmed myself down. I didn’t know what to do with myself other than that. I didn’t want to face them. My mind kept agonizing over details, the looks in people’s eyes, the tone of their voices, the ache in my ankle as I limped frantically down the stairs. Nothing was going to make me feel better but at least I could make myself look better. I washed my face, and emerged from the bathroom.

 

In the hallway, I stood silently, watching them all. A few still murmured, wondering where I was. A couple saw me standing and waved, asked if I was alright. I slightly remember lying and telling them that I was fine, admitting that I’d been in the bathroom. I might have been smiling with my mouth but my eyes felt hot with loathing.

 

With a sigh I turned and went to the back of the boat. I sat down on one step of the metal ladder leading to the top deck. It wasn’t long until Karah joined me back there, kind of leaning over to look at me. “Is there something wrong?” she asked. I nodded. “Is there something I can do?” she asked. I shook my head. “Do you want to talk to Lucas?” she said with small smile. I paused, and then nodded again.

 

A few minutes later the back door opened and shut, and Lucas stood there before me, hands on his hips. The look in his eye was almost accusing, as though he was glaring down at me in my pathetic state. “What’s going on?” he asked.

 

I sighed heavily. I said nothing. I stared out at the green waters. He asked me again.

 

With another sigh, I dropped my head into my hands. “I just…” I mumbled through my fingers. “Feel like I don’t belong here. Unwanted.”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Because I sat in that bathroom for at least an hour and no one even came to find me. They didn’t even know I was—.”

 

“Everyone was looking for you,” he interrupted. “We had no idea where you were!”

 

An argument proceeded from there. I don’t remember all of what was said in the middle. At one point I stood up and grasped the railing, staring at the lake. I considered jumping in. I thought of how the churning water probably wouldn’t kill me but it would definitely send a message.

 

I remember turning around, my back in the corner of the railing. As it started to rain I thought about toppling myself overboard. Instead I gazed hopelessly into Lucas’ eyes. In that moment, I couldn’t help myself. They were so green. And he was so pure in his attempts to soothe me, comfort me, admonish me. The desire the cry again was so immense and yet, as always, I couldn’t bring myself to cry. Any tears I had would be lost in the rain anyhow but my body still couldn’t manage to release them.

 

The conversation heightened when I started hearing him again and ceased drowning in his eyes.

 

“You’re listening to the wrong voices again!” he said. The rain was consuming us. Water was dripping from his eyelashes, the tip of his nose.

 

I scowled through the rain. “I’m not listening to any voices.” This was a lie. I knew of the voices. I knew about my own darkness. I knew that I was hearing the shadows in my head instead. And I knew that I should have been hearing God, hearing the love in his voice. Instead I denied listening to anything or anyone.

 

He lowered his gaze then, putting one hand to his moistened forehead. “Katie, why do you do that?”

 

“Do what?” I asked incredulously.

 

He raised his eyes back to me. “Why do you have to push me away? I come out to try and help you and you just push and push. I care about you, but you’re not letting me help. Why do you push me away?”

 

I wanted to kiss him. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the romance-laced aura of the boat, the lake, the rain, his green eyes. A nervous smile split my face. I thought again about jumping over. I thought about denying everything he said. I was soaked, shivering, and aching from emotional exhaustion. I could jump. I could lie.

 

Or I could surrender.

 

I looked down at the puddled deck. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry…” I began quietly. “I don’t mean to push you away.”

 

Lucas sighed again. “I care about you. I’m trying to help you.”

 

I nodded. Rain shook from the ends of my hair.

 

“Come here,” he said softly and in an instant I was wrapped in his arms. We stood there, drenched from head to foot, trembling in the summer storm, hurting from the inside out, holding each other as though letting go would cause our cells and atoms to split apart and life would end for both of us. We were in the middle of a vast lake in Canada, far from home, and yet I was completely at ease in the embrace. Despite everything. Despite the anguish, the struggles, the constant conflict, I was at peace. In all my darkness, Lucas made me see the light.

 

When we reached the beach that afternoon, I was a little calmer. I happily ventured out of the boat onto the beach. It was covered with rocks, as expected, but these rocks were different. Most of them were flat, and smooth, eroded by centuries of Shuswap Lake waves. Some of them were a shiny black color, and glittered in the sunlight. We gathered on the beach in clusters, collecting the glimmering rocks. And then we started finding white rocks.

 

One of the leaders approached us and said, “You know that’s quartz, right?” A few of us nodded. “Do you know what quartz can do?” We shook our heads.

 

He described to us that way quartz makes light when it hits each other in the dark. It wasn’t dark enough to see at the time, so we waited patiently for night. We continued collecting rocks, singing songs as we went, eventually eating dinner. Afterwards it was finally dusk, and we took out our rocks and smashed them together, creating sparks in the night. Some of the sparks were different colored, yellow or pink or orange.

 

That evening after the discussion we all stretched out on the rocky beach and sang songs up to the stars one last time. With some of the quartz in my pocket, I created some extra light to sing by. At the end of the day, my darkness was disappearing. Thinking about light. Thinking about quartz. I was thinking about Lucas. Thinking about how the light we created was a rough light. It hadn’t been easy to see. I wished it was one I could switch on and off when I wanted. A light that came when I called, that didn’t involve argument and conflict and a sort of collision to appear. But that’s how it came. Lucas and I had crashed together in a series of mishaps, among arguments and broken moments and rough divergences of emotion. There was darkness, and in a second of tense discord, we made a brief and brilliant light.

 

The rest of the story is unimportant. I apologized to Lucas one last time about pushing him away. Nate apologized to me for nothing in particular. I had one last conversation with Dennis and he told me I needed to find a way to feel God’s love. And the next day we went home. Lucas went back to the girl of his dreams.

 

I was left with a pocketful of memories and illuminating rocks.