The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

your minor successes. Devon was the only real thing in your life, in my life. Everything else, counterfeit. That’s what you lost, Adam, on the beach. You lost your one connection to truth.’

‘Clair, you lost it too. Where were you when the wave came and took him? The wave may have been an act of God but we, Clair, you and I, we didn’t pay attention. We weren’t watching. What were you doing?’

Clair stared at him. This question had been haunting her for the past months. It had driven her crazy.

‘You were there, on the beach, like me,’ Adam said, looking out the window. ‘You were right there, Clair.’ He turned back to face her. ‘How did you not see the wave?’

‘I was looking the other way. I was so angry at you, I stared after you, walking that walk, talking on the phone to your latest girlfriend, and I was watching you. I wasn’t watching Devon; you were supposed to be watching Devon,’ she hissed the words out. ‘Just that one time, it was for you to be a father. And you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.’

A noise outside the door startled him. He realized they had been loud, and loud voices on the psych unit brought attention. Any disruption in the calm milieu could signal a meltdown, or the need for a safety team intervention. Turning around, he saw a huddle of patients at the door. A tall man, name tag identifying him as Matt RN, was easing his way through them, telling them to go back to their rooms or to the community room.

‘Everything OK in here?’ he asked, looking at Clair.

She nodded. ‘I’m sorry we got so loud. We’ll keep it down. Thanks Matt,’ she said.

‘No problem, but you only have a few minutes left.’ Then, looking at Adam, he said, ‘Visiting hours are over.’

‘What happens now, to you, Clair? The detective, Santiago, came to see me. I’m not pressing charges if you’re wondering about that. And, I wasn’t talking to a girlfriend. It was Claudia, about the upcoming performance. It was work, it was always work, Clair.’

Adam had walked out into the hall. He looked back at her, face pale and gaunt. She shrugged, looking out the window.

‘I was told there will be a hearing. The criminal justice system for the mentally ill runs like a machine. They have five business days to make a decision as to whether or not to take me to a commitment hearing. An examiner met with me, interviewed me, and decided I might be crazy. At least, crazy enough to not be held responsible for what I did, you know, to you. So, I’ll have a competency hearing to see if I’m sane enough to stand trial. Today is day four.’

‘But I’m not pressing any charges, Clair. I don’t blame you for what you did. Why can’t they just let it go?’ Adam said, waving his hands in the air.

Clair swung her legs off the bed, stood, and walked over to the windows. She turned her head back to look at Adam. He was standing in the doorway, one foot inside the room, the other in the hallway.

‘You don’t have to press charges, Adam. The DA can do that himself. If I’m not sane, I’ll be sent to the state hospital forensic unit to get treated, until I am deemed sane enough to participate in my own defense, as though I have any defense. And you know what, I don’t care. I died that day back on the beach.’

* * *

Once back outside, Adam breathed in the fresh air, scented from the tall Douglas fir trees circling the hospital. He felt a jolt of memory, bringing him back to his first time, stepping out of the plane onto Pacific Northwest tarmac. The air, so dense with moisture, the smell of ocean and forest blending together in a way that was captivating. He had come here to interview for a job as director of theater at the small, liberal arts college, tucked away on the coast. Leaving behind his hopes of being a real actor himself, settling on teaching and coaching students, feeding their dreams instead. A regular paycheck and benefits won out over dreams of stardom, he remembered thinking. He beeped the car door, falling into the soft leather seats. Leaning back, resting his head, he closed his eyes. He felt the sting of salt as tears burned, his vision blurring as he remembered Clair the first time they met. And then, when he had found out about the pregnancy, regretting his first reaction.

She had walked into his office on the third floor of the Tioga building, overlooking a small lake. It had been spring, new buds bursting through winter foliage on the rhododendrons. He had been coaching a student, young, female, through an emotional scene. His door had been open, as he always left it when alone with a student. Hearing a knock, he had looked up, startled to see her standing there.

Since their night together, after the party, they hadn’t seen much of each other. He had tried, but she had always found reasons why she couldn’t meet him for dinner, or a concert. After a few weeks, he had stopped trying. He had enjoyed their time together, brief and passionate as it was. Her keen intelligence and dry humor were so different from his other female friends and lovers. His initial surprise quickly receded and pleasure took its place. But not for long.

‘Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt Adam, but I need to talk with you.’

‘OK, Ashley, we can finish up this evening, during rehearsal. Nice work today,’ he said to the student.

‘Come in, Clair. I think this is the first time you’ve been up here, isn’t it?’ he asked, motioning for her to come to a setting of chairs around a small, rectangular table in the corner of the room. A large desk, make of Port Orford white cedar held a place of prominence in the other corner. The