California Dreaming
Mohinder is not afraid of the water. He'll concede that as a child it made him uneasy. The tug of the waves pulling the sand away from his feet disturbed him, left him feeling small and helpless. What could you ever depend on if you knew the very earth beneath your feet might vanish at any moment? He always made a point of staying in the shallows where he could see the bottom clearly. Knowing exactly where he was walking helped somewhat.
Now that he's older, the water doesn't make him uneasy, merely sad. It makes him think of white linen, holding his fathers ashes, apologies and goodbyes that were never allowed to be said.
Matt…Matt is the complete opposite. Matt is a child of the ocean, a California boy through and through. Mohinder had not realized how true this was, after all Matt seemed to enjoy living in New York, until they spend a summer vacation visiting Matt's mother.
The sea air brings Matt to vivid boisterous life. Swimming like a fish even in the heaviest of currents, laughing loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves, building elaborate sand castles with Molly. Huge magnificent feats of engineering that miraculously never fall down.
The night before their flight home, he and Matt go out on a proper date. Fancy restaurant, candlelight, soft music. Afterwards, Matt insists on walking along the beach. A last goodbye to paradise. They leave shoes and socks in the sand and roll their pants legs up. Stepping out into to the water, to their ankles, then their shins, then their knees. The sunset is such a breathtaking riot of reds and purples and oranges and Matt's arms feel so solid around his waist, Mohinder doesn't look down to see where he's walking, not once.
When they come home after three weeks with a suitcase full of souvenirs, mostly seashells neither of them had the heart to tell Molly to get rid of, Matt is almost as dark as Mohinder. He wastes no time uploading an image of the sunset over the water as the screensaver on his computer. The banner reads California Dreaming.
The first couple of months back are wonderful. They were a family before, but shared memories make the bonds even stronger. The days are filled with conversations liberally sprinkled with "Remember when…" and "Doesn't that remind you of…" Matt jokes about starting a tiny beach in the bathtub with all the sand that accumulated in their clothes.
But as the temperatures cool and Matt's tan fades, his mood changes.
Winter seems to go on forever. Snow turning into grey slush, black ice, the damp mildewy scent of wet wool, people pushing and shoving to get out of the cold that seeps into your very bones. The three of them pass the same runny nose around from January through early March. Matt talks to his mother more than ever, checks the temperature in California every day and looks wistful.
One afternoon, he watches Matt sleep for hours under the window in a spot of weak February sunlight, like a big cat. But it isn't a peaceful sleep, always twitching, frowning and restless.
Mohinder pins all of his hopes on spring, but as the weather warms Matt's mood impossibly worsens. It takes him awhile to figure out why. The freezing ice, snow, sleet, ugly grayness of the air and the buildings and even the people, it's like nothing Matt's ever known. But how heartbreaking must it be when the clouds break and the sun shines and you realize you're so close to paradise and yet so far away? It's not just the sun, although that's part of it. Matt misses the very air, the smell, the salt of the ocean. He misses California. He misses his home.
Mohinder can't understand it. After years of standing with one foot in India and another in England and never belonging in either fully and later crisscrossing the globe for conferences and work, he can't comprehend anyone being so tied to a place. But Matt is. California, always mild, lazy, rolling with thick ocean breezes, sand, sun, and blue green waves capped with white, is part of Matt. Possibly a hidden part Mohinder will never be able to touch.
It terrifies him. He recalls something Naomi told him as they sat on the blankets under a huge umbrella. Watching Matt smile and turn his face into the sun like child leaning into a mother's touch.
"He's always been like that, you know. I was three weeks past my due date with him and went out walking along the shore. Back and forth for hours. Maury insisted I was an idiot for it, but I gave birth that same night. Matty's followed the tide ever since."
Now Mohinder is most definitely afraid of the water. Afraid it's going to take Matt away from him. He dreams about swimming far out, farther than he's ever had the courage to do in reality, and not caring as the shoreline becomes fainter and fainter because he has to get to Matt. Calling his name as the water swirls around him. He can't see the bottom, can't see where he's going and Matt's nowhere to be found. He's all alone. He wakes up choking and gasping convinced he can taste sea water.
The first day of summer, Mohinder rents a car and packs the family up driving to the Jersey Shore. He barely stops to drop their things at their motel and then they walk to the beach, just a few minutes away, all the way down to where the waves are licking at the sand. The water's colder than the Pacific, Molly's loud shriek of surprise attests to that. It's shabby and rundown with several business boarded up. All in all, there's an air of disrepute about the place.
Matt stares at the water and Mohinder stares at Matt.
"Is it like home?"
Matt shakes his head.
"Not really."
Mohinder watches Matt walk away along the shoreline. Stands there frozen as the earth disappears under his feet.
It's not the same, but can't it be enough? Can't they pretend? It's the same gulls, same sand, same smell, mostly. But it isn't. Matt would know, wouldn't he? It's just a pale imitation, like he and Molly are a pale imitation of the life Matt might have lived in California if not for his world falling apart.
Mohinder's so utterly miserable about this failure, he doesn't notice the waves gathering in size and volume until one hits him square in the face. He's knocked to the ground sputtering and choking just like in his dream.
Matt pulls him to his feet. Wraps his arms around Mohinder's waist and kisses his throat.
"This first year has been a period of adjustment and I know I haven't been fair to you at all. It's not the same. But I appreciate the effort and I'm sorry I worried you. Yes, California was my home, but it's not anymore. And it never could be without you. You and Molly and wherever we live, even a skeezy apartment in Brooklyn, that's home for me."
Matt kisses him as the sun falls into the water. Nuzzles his neck and gives the skin a long slow lick. Mohinder lets out an involuntary yelp of surprise and feels Matt's rumbling laugh through his entire body.
"Mmmm, you taste like the ocean. Mohinder and ocean. Two of my favorite things together."
That night Mohinder dreams of sandcastles, blue water as clear as glass for miles in every direction, and Matt.
