Interrupting the fun times for a sad flashback
Title: Worries to Give To The Sea
Characters: Sam Anders
Time Period: 1993 (Sam's orphan period)
Summary: Sam goes to the beach and pays for it.
They aren’t all bad days.
Sam sits under the pier in the fading light of the sunset. If it weren’t cold enough already at this time of year, especially here, his jacket needs a patch in the elbow. Still, there isn’t any other place he’d rather be.
The sky itself isn’t that beautiful tonight, but it’s the reflection of the sun on the water, broken up by the crashing waves, that really what gives him pause. The hiss of seawater against sand, the endless ebb and flood. He can’t dip his toes in the water without being humbled by how big it is, and this is just one ocean, on one world. What are one boy’s problems in comparison to so much universe? Feeling small makes him feel at peace.
As the last sliver of sun disappears, he decides to take a run along the sand, scattering the sandpipers. He likes the wind in his face. He likes the perfection of creation that has led to these interlocking pieces, this interplay of muscles and bone and flesh, that allow him to be a moving creature. He likes the way that people don’t shy away from him when he’s running-a jogger being less threatening, somehow, than a teenager who’s just walking. He thinks this might be his fastest time, but he isn’t sure, he doesn’t time himself. That’s not what it’s about.
By the time he makes it back to his shoes, the moon is full and the beach is mostly empty. Several bums have settled in under the pier for the night. Sam doesn’t need this option for himself. He has a place to stay.
Just barely.
***
He’s wakened from sleep by a kick to the solar plexus. “Where were you last night?” Hugo asks as Sam groans. His first instinct is to curl up into a ball, but Hugo strips the sheets off of him in a rough movement and tosses them away. “I asked you a question, shithead.”
Sam wishes he can tell Hugo off with a “none of your business.” Because it isn’t. There hadn’t been any jobs last night, any deals, so Sam could do whatever the hells he wanted without Hugo needing to know. But he doesn’t say this. Because it’s not about Hugo really wanting to know where Sam was, it’s about dominance. And everyone’s watching, sitting up on their own cots to see the morning’s entertainment, so there aren’t a lot of things Sam can say without getting beaten up again.
“Out,” he mumbles.
This seems to pacify the older boy. “Well, you’re on the job tonight. The Bluebeards need a delivery down to the docks. You’re a weak-ass frakker and only cowards run, but at least you’re fast at it.”
“Okay,” he says, and Hugo’s off, probably to terrorize one of the other kids in the group home.
Sam slips on his shoes. There’s sand in the bottom of them, and he remembers the sunset. He wiggles his toes, feeling the grains. He holds on to the feeling.
They aren’t all bad days.
Characters: Sam Anders
Time Period: 1993 (Sam's orphan period)
Summary: Sam goes to the beach and pays for it.
They aren’t all bad days.
Sam sits under the pier in the fading light of the sunset. If it weren’t cold enough already at this time of year, especially here, his jacket needs a patch in the elbow. Still, there isn’t any other place he’d rather be.
The sky itself isn’t that beautiful tonight, but it’s the reflection of the sun on the water, broken up by the crashing waves, that really what gives him pause. The hiss of seawater against sand, the endless ebb and flood. He can’t dip his toes in the water without being humbled by how big it is, and this is just one ocean, on one world. What are one boy’s problems in comparison to so much universe? Feeling small makes him feel at peace.
As the last sliver of sun disappears, he decides to take a run along the sand, scattering the sandpipers. He likes the wind in his face. He likes the perfection of creation that has led to these interlocking pieces, this interplay of muscles and bone and flesh, that allow him to be a moving creature. He likes the way that people don’t shy away from him when he’s running-a jogger being less threatening, somehow, than a teenager who’s just walking. He thinks this might be his fastest time, but he isn’t sure, he doesn’t time himself. That’s not what it’s about.
By the time he makes it back to his shoes, the moon is full and the beach is mostly empty. Several bums have settled in under the pier for the night. Sam doesn’t need this option for himself. He has a place to stay.
Just barely.
***
He’s wakened from sleep by a kick to the solar plexus. “Where were you last night?” Hugo asks as Sam groans. His first instinct is to curl up into a ball, but Hugo strips the sheets off of him in a rough movement and tosses them away. “I asked you a question, shithead.”
Sam wishes he can tell Hugo off with a “none of your business.” Because it isn’t. There hadn’t been any jobs last night, any deals, so Sam could do whatever the hells he wanted without Hugo needing to know. But he doesn’t say this. Because it’s not about Hugo really wanting to know where Sam was, it’s about dominance. And everyone’s watching, sitting up on their own cots to see the morning’s entertainment, so there aren’t a lot of things Sam can say without getting beaten up again.
“Out,” he mumbles.
This seems to pacify the older boy. “Well, you’re on the job tonight. The Bluebeards need a delivery down to the docks. You’re a weak-ass frakker and only cowards run, but at least you’re fast at it.”
“Okay,” he says, and Hugo’s off, probably to terrorize one of the other kids in the group home.
Sam slips on his shoes. There’s sand in the bottom of them, and he remembers the sunset. He wiggles his toes, feeling the grains. He holds on to the feeling.
They aren’t all bad days.