A man in an army uniform, with his hat off, sits at a coffee shop somewhere in Europe, toying with his lighter and ignoring his coffee. No one joins him at the table, and in fact only a few human shapes are visible in the background. It’s dim, in the morning, between the time residents go to work and the time they return for lunch and tea.

On the back Flo wrote a date, and possibly a name, but she later scratched it out without saying why.

“Really Sean, you sh’d know better ‘an to drink on yer watch.” The first caressed the wood gently, almost reverently. The barge would never carry wood again, but it might serve for a decent ghost ship.

“Aw, Rich, how was I s’pposed to know that a storm w’s comin’? I only had a little.” Sean crawled up the dune, surveying the work ahead of them.

“You were drunk off yer arse, and you know it.” Rich leaned close to the ship, as if to kiss it, and blew a small layer of sand away.

“I was sad. M’girl lef’ me! Wot was I s’pposed to do? Sail sober?” Sean picked up a shovel he’d stolen from a dairy farmer. Hopefully the farmer wouldn’t miss it.

“You sailed against the wind, you buggerin’ bastard. If it weren’t for you, we would have made it past the jetty! But noooooooooo.”

“I said I was sorry.”

______________

The next morning the BLM showed up to look at the shipwreck again, but they only found the hole, quickly filling with sand, that once held the keel close. With no other answer but a couple of stolen shovels, the BLM blamed it on the storm, at least in their reports.

I hope you are doing well. I’ve been really busy with my new friends. They took me to Silver Falls last week, and yesterday they took me up to the Governor’s office while he was away. My friends said that Mr. Governor would be honored if I sat in his office chair. And so I did! My friends took pictures, and they helped me paper clip it to the back of this letter.

I miss you a lot, and I promise to come home someday, but I wanna see more of the world before I stand in your front lawn and watch cars go by.

Love,

Your Garden Gnome Ithamar

It was a routine surgery, but it still required utmost patience in preparation.  The surgeon wired the thread through the needle in the sewing machine, and inserted the spool at the top. She checked to make sure the machine was plugged in, and switched on the built-in light. Pressing her foot on the peddle, she moved Teddy’s broken arm underneath the needle.

The machine growled to life, and the needle went up and down and up and down until Teddy had sixteen stitches. Fortunately, Teddy wouldn’t need any physical therapy, but his best friend Kyle would have to be careful with his right arm. It wouldn’t take much to ruin the sixteen stitches in green fur.

I found a bike in one, with empty stalls. The stalls may or may not have had curtains. What does a coffee shop need dressing rooms for? If you whisper the password with your order, will they give you a costume to try on? Is it frappuchino? No place seems to serve them, and Starbucks doesn’t have back rooms.

Jade took his last name, as a sort of token, and took to wearing a ring he gave her on her left hand. She would never say if he married her, and we never found any wedding photos. Grandma didn’t seem to mind, as she never sought out anyone else.

Grandma Jade never strayed too far from the coast. Sure, we could coax her away, closer to family, for a few years, but within a decade she’d be back by the ocean. She could get by in any coastal town, but she preferred ports, no matter what size. Jade even moved from Santa Monica, saying it was too expensive, but she just moved up the coast  town by town, until she found Coos Bay. Less crowded, she said.

She’d spend nearly day at the beach, or on the docks. We knew not to check her house when we came to visit. Instead we combed the coastline until we found her.Every so often we’d see her gaze at the waves longingly, as if she was looking for someone. Our visits usually ended up being sandy picnics, crabbing, fishing, but Jade never took us shopping at the tourist traps. “I’d never find anything worth paying for.” She would say when asked.

Over the years the family visited less and less, until Grandma got sick in the spring. At first, we took turns, dropping by each weekend to check up on her, or if we could, we’d take days off work and school. Then summer hit, and Grandma Jade still hadn’t healed. Even then she refused to go to the hospital. So I packed a suitcase and moved to her place for however long it took.

We spent nearly all our time at the beach, only going home at night. No matter how late it was, we could always find our way home. Long after everyone had turned off their lights and went to bed, her house always had one light on. I knew she had a window facing the water in her bedroom. The candle that sat on her window sill never went out. Fishermen would always joke that they could see the light from the ocean.

Then she got too sick to go outside. I did everything I could, from opening the windows to let the draft in, to bringing her seashells I found every morning at the shore. Grandma Jade would smile at me tiredly, then toy with the seashell as if she wanted something else.

It took three days of her favorite meal (salmon on mash potatoes) to get the truth out of her.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it, hon’ ” Jade glanced up at me, as young as ever.

I helped her bring another bite to her lips.”Oh, don’t say that Grandma. You’ll be fine. You’re a toughie.”

“I’m sorry hon.’” She chewed it thoughtfully, then glanced up at me, her eyes sparkling like streams in the sunlight. “You want to know a secret?”

“Sure.” Wondering what on earth Grandma Jade had left to tell.

“Set that fork down and open that drawer next to you. Yeah, that one. The picture should be underneath all those scarves.”

I pulled it and held up for both our eyes. It was the picture of Grandpa Jones, the only picture she had.

“Did you know Grandpa knew more than just planes?”

I set her plate aside. She never never had an appetite when she had a story to tell.

“He also liked ships. Big ones. Historic ones.”

“You mean, sailing?”

Jade smiled, seeming younger already. “Yeah. He loved to go and rescue men lost at sea.” She sighed wistfully.

“Like the coast guard?”

She frowned slightly, as if I was missing something important. “Sort of, except none of them ever wanted to come back. So they would join his crew.”

“Wait, he was a captain?”

Jade smiled again, proud. “One of the best. No one could ever catch him.”

“But he left you years ago, right? Soon after the war?”

She spoke softer, squeezing my hand weakly. “He came back once every ten years.”

My eyes widened farther than the portholes in her kitchen. “Wait…Grandpa Jones is–”

Jade whispered fiercely, grinning. “Davy Jones.” She thumbed my hand. “Just between us though, alright?”

I nodded. “So…you’re going to meet him.”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll go and join his crew.” She uttered softly.

“And you’re not coming back.” I swallowed.

“Just promise you’ll bury me at sea.”

“Of course, Grandma, of course.”

Of course we never talk. I can’t march backwards to save my life, let alone memorize a bunch of random coordinates on drill sheets. (What do I look like, a TomTom?) This sets me at the bottom of the totem pole. The only other people in band who get less respect are the other flute players in my section, and of course, the guys in color guard.

Nobody’s real sure about the color guard guys. Most years, there’s never more than two. Any guy who joins color guard instantaneously loses his man card. What straight guy would dance with purple flags with girly choreography in those gay costumes? At least, we all hope they’re gay. It would just be…gag worthy on those practices in the hot sun, with girls more than comfortable cooling off in as little coverage as they’re allowed.

Next thing she knew, Rachel was standing up and walking. She swallowed, wondering  why she didn’t feel any pain, in fact, she didn’t feel anything at all. Rachel had to look down to see that her feet touched the marble floor as they walked. Her heart would have skipped a beat, except she had noticed that it had stopped beating.

The hall yawned before her eyes, deep, with every surface covered in gray marble. It had no windows, no lamps, no fires, and no sunlight, but she could see down it just fine. At the end of the hall sat black iron doors, and the moment Rachel would have reached to push them open, they opened themselves. Beyond the doors a cavernous room loomed before her, making Rachel stop so abruptly, she rocked back on her heels.

A table stood in the center of the room, gray marble like everything else.  One black iron chair stood on each side, one empty, and one occupied. Rachel recognized that occupant immediately, and her skin covered itself with goosebumps. He beckoned her with a wave of his long black sleeve to the empty chair. Glancing back at the iron doors, she saw them close with a hollow echo. The chair seemed to be her only option. She sat down, looking at the table instead of trying to meet his eyes.

In the middle of the small table sat a game of chess, with each piece in its starting position. One half had carved marble, sleek and simple. The other half had iron, intricate and rich.  Underneath them, rested the chessboard, made of shimmering glass.

“Care for a game?” He whispered, his voice hoarse, but clear.

“I guess.” Rachel answered, not really seeing any other option. She moved the pawn closest to her right.

He slid a knight to face her pawn. “Who are you?”

“Rachel Stevens.” She studied the board, already having a bad feeling about her odds. How did it go? Win the game and get a second chance at life? Or would she only have a chance at a better afterlife? Who the heck knew all this stuff and bothered to tell the living? Rachel focused on the opposite side of her board, deciding to move one of her knights closer to the center. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Did you want to be?” He moved the same knight closer to hers.

She swallowed, moving her pawn again. “Yes.”

He moved the knight away, and Rachel caught a glance of the bones beneath the sleeve. They matched the marble well. “Why?”

Rachel wondered how many times he’d heard this before. “I couldn’t face my life anymore.” She slid her rook right behind her pawn. It thudded lightly against the glass, hissing as she let go.

“Why did that make you kill yourself?” He slid a pawn right behind his knight.

She wished she had an idea of what he planned next. He seemed the type that could plan an infinite amount of moves ahead of time. After all, he seemed to have all the time in the world. “I was afraid.” Rachel answered softly, moving her knight next to his.

His queen knocked out her pawn. “What a waste.”

“You don’t understand.” She swallowed, moving her knight and taking out one of his pawns. “Check.”

The room seemed to get warmer. He sat silently for a long time. “I wish you understood. Suicide is one of the most selfish and cruel acts one can commit, Rachel.” He moved his king out of harm’s way.

“I had to. I had no choice.” She moved her knight again, taking out his rook.

“You always had a choice.” He slid his bishop until it stood a square away from his knight. “You always did. Until now.”

None of her options now seemed good.  Rachel swallowed, moving her pawn forward. “Then why did you offer me a game?”

He moved his queen back.  ”I have my reasons.”

“That’s not answering my question.” She slid another pawn forward, trying to free up her more powerful pieces.

“I don’t have to answer your questions.” He slid a pawn as well.

Rachel saw her chance, taking out his knight. “What if I win?”

“What if you do?” He mused, sliding a pawn behind his queen.

“I want answers.” She moved her knight back, taking out another pawn. So far, she had more pieces than he did. Rachel wondering how long that would last.

Apparently not long. He immediately took out her knight with another pawn.”That’s all?”

“How much can I ask for?” She slid out a bishop, suddenly finding the need to end this quick.

“Indeed.” He also moved a bishop.

“What are my options?” She moved her bishop again, as far as she could. “Check.”

“You should have researched that before you killed yourself.” He moved his king out of her path.

“Well, I’m asking now.” She moved her bishop again, chasing him.

“I don’t have to tell you.” His king took out her bishop.

They were even, with four pieces each. Rachel moved her queen. “What if I asked nicely?”

He moved his. “Probably not.”

She moved her remaining knight. “Have you ever told anyone?”

“Most of them already seem to know by this point.” He moved his king away.

“I don’t.” She took out his queen, breathing a sigh of relief.

He moved a pawn, and the shadows beneath his hood seemed to darken. “That’s unfortunate. To not know your stakes.”

Rachel took out another pawn with her knight. “I guess. I can’t change that now.”

He moved one two spaces forward. “I suppose.” Death sounded bored.

She took out a rook. “You don’t know?”

“You’re full of questions. No sob story?” He moved a knight in front of his king.

“You’ve probably already heard it.” She moved her queen forward. If Rachel was lucky, she might have a chance now.

“Perhaps not.” He moved his remaining bishop.

Rachel moved her queen to his end of the board. “I lost my job.”

He moved his bishop directly in front of her king. “That sounds like a poor reason for suicide.”

She took it out. “It was a really nice job. I had no savings.”

He moved another pawn. “Nothing else?”

“I had no boyfriend. My family were already struggling to pay their own bills.” She moved her queen. “Check.”

He took out her queen. “So you made them pay for your funeral?”

“I had life insurance.” She moved her rook. “Check.”

He moved his king forward, bringing her rook within range. “How much?”

Rachel took out his knight. “Not enough.” She sighed.

His bishop took out her knight. “Unfortunate.”

“Yeah.” She moved a pawn forward, running out of options fast. Rachel only had five pieces left.

He moved a pawn in line with his king. “So you’re costing them a funeral and a loved one.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” She moved her knight.

He moved a pawn, and gained back his queen. “See a therapist. Seek faith. Seek love.”

“None of those seemed appetizing.” She moved her knight again. “Check.”

He took out her night with his bishop. “Better than death.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, moving a bishop. He was going to win.

“Always.” He moved his queen in line with her king. “Check.”

She moved her king out of the way. “You think so?”

“Always.” He moved his queen with ease. “Check.”

She moved her king back. “What if a person’s life was hell?”

He pursued. “You know nothing of hell.”

“You know nothing of living.” She moved her king back.

“Don’t I? I end lives every day.” He took out one of two remaining pawns. Not that Rachel could have moved them anyway.

She moved her king closer to his. It was the only piece she could still move. “And what do they tell you?”

His followed. “They beg, usually.”

She moved her king. “Creative.”

“They’re desperate.” He took out her last pawn.

“They’re dying.” She moved her king back.

“They don’t want to. ” His king followed. “Check.”

“I do.” She moved her king back.

“Unfortunate.” His bishop moved in line with her king. “Check.”

Rachel moved it forward. “So what? Just another soul right?”

“Every soul has value.” He moved his queen in front of hers. “Check mate.”

Anyway, we started out by learning how to turn. Toe-heel-toe-heel. It actually seems pretty simple, simple enough to get your hopes up. Then they get everyone one in your section in a line, and they march, yes, march to mark off the distance between each freshman. Then they teach you how to march to the beat, and no matter how many times you try, you can’t seem to get it right. Unless of course, your one of the  lucky kids that went to the other middle school. There they at least teach you how to march in a parade. By the end of a hot-stinky-two-mile-long death march, you’d definitely know how to step on beat.

I’d whine more, but I have to get up bright and freakin’ early for my second day of band camp. Someone please shoot me.