Boy in the Bay

She had been sitting on the rock, wanting to think deep thoughts, because that’s what one does on a rock by the sea, the kind of pensivity that only works in cooler weather. Why can’t I be thoughtful in a bathing suit in the sun? I can, but it would make for a shitty picture.

I’ll sit on the rock in the wind in March and maybe something will come to me. She hadn’t had an assignment in almost two weeks. Sometimes those things they say about creativity are true. But she hadn’t believed it. This is a job, she thought. I’ll just do it, it’s a fucking job. But anything she'd tried to get her mind going had failed.

She detested the image of creative writers that she saw around. Self-interested, navel-gazing, too-fashionable recent graduates convinced that they were changing the world with their mediocre stories and well-curated social media platforms. As she was sitting on the rock, it occurred to her that at that moment she looked a lot like someone's profile picture.

Maybe a little online branding wouldn’t kill me, she thought. She could have Dave take a picture from afar, do her makeup and put on some dark jeans. She banished the thought almost immediately. What she needed was inspiration to write now, not to drum up business for future jobs.

The water is choppy today, she observed, a little confused. It always was on a windy day, but it wasn’t that windy out. In fact, the breeze might be pleasant, if not for the cold. But she could see whitecaps to the other end of the bay, past the boats in the docking station about fifty feet away. She breathed into the wind, closed her eyes and felt the discomfort of the cold on her bare skin.

That’s why at first, she didn’t notice the boy.

Maybe about nine, she thought when she saw his face, which had been nibbled just a little. He doesn't look like he's been here long. And who would dump a body in this bay? It was too small. He was face-up, floating just to the left of her rock, caught on the jagged edge of the coastline. There was no investigation. She simply opened her eyes and saw him.

I should call someone, she thought vaguely. That’s what I should do. She had left her cell phone in her car, afraid she might drop it in the water and besides, she couldn’t take her eyes off the boy. She knew this would be their only moment together. When she broke that moment, police would come, an ambulance would be called, and at least one more person’s life would be destroyed. But in her life, there would never be another moment like this. She fought the urge to bring herself back to reality. That would be done for her later.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, looking at his face. “That must have been hard for you, to drown, or to freeze, or to suddenly realize that you would never see your parents again.” She spoke conversationally, as if she and the boy were sitting side by side on the rock, and he had been telling her about some bully at school. “It’s a shame that it happened, whatever it was that happened, and I’m glad it’s over.”

She could think of nothing else to say to him, and decided not to force any more sentiments. She stood up and walked out of the wind to her car.