Tomorrow is my birthday. My birthday present to you is this one-shot.
For anyone that follows, I will be updating Somewhere Only We Know tomorrow.
This is subtly angsty. And a little dramatic. Which pretty much sums up my personality. I'm a Libra after all, so I need to find some balance.
In a Bottle
Meredith walks down the beach just to dip her toes in the water.
It's one of those perfect days—blue skies, warm breeze, bright sun. It's the perfect beach day. But the shoreline is empty. Labor Day has passed and all the vacationers have returned to the mainland. Parents wake their children up for school and then sit in bump-to-bump traffic on their way to a desk job, while the entire day they imagine their summer on the beach.
Meredith was like that once. In a time before she lived here. In a time when summer meant freedom and Labor Day stood for impending doom.
She walks through the water, just warming up as winter approaches. It always seemed pointless to her that the ocean warmed in September. How could anyone enjoy the warmth when they're back in the suburbs?
Along her walk, Meredith picks up sea glass. Her collection is ever-growing, but the orange piece she pockets is so rare, it'll likely become the star. She fingers the smooth surface and picks up two shells and a light green piece of sea glass. Charlie will like the green one.
In the rock alcove at the end of the beach, Meredith perches herself on a flat rock. She likes this spot. In the years she's been here, this one spot has always been her favorite. She can just barely make out the mainland, and the bridge linking the island to civilization shadows across the water. The bridge looks like an arm reaching out towards her. It's comforting.
A plastic bag and a bottle rustle and clank against the rock as the tide slides in and out. The spray from the water coats her legs and after almost a quarter hour, she rises to return home.
But the amber bottle catches her eye. Inside, rolled tightly is a piece of paper. A message in a bottle, she imagines whimsically.
Meredith minds her toes as she steps into the water and grabs the bottle right before a particularly large wave knocks her back against the rock. With baited breath, she walks back to the comforts of the sand and sinks down far enough from the churning water.
The bottle looks barely tarnished, only a few dings mar the surface. She uncorks the top and draws out the notebook paper stuffed inside.
Hello. I hope you read English, but if not, I hope you can enjoy the handwriting. Or, since my handwriting is atrocious, at least you can enjoy the simple cliché of a message in a bottle.
This is the story of the girl I love.
We met when we were fifteen. She was the girl next door. The kind of girl you always loved. You know the one. I was a geek, a dork, a loser, and she was popular and gorgeous, so it would never work. I was beneath her, but one day, inexplicably, she waved at me from her front porch. After fifteen years of watching her, she finally met me. Her hair was darker then. Her body was stick straight and her skin was pale and freckled. But she waved to me.
I walked over to her and we shared a chocolate chip brownie.
Three months later, I held her hand for the first time. And by the next summer, right before our sophomore year of high school, she kissed me and called me her boyfriend. It all seemed very organic, even at that age.
We dated all through college and beyond. We broke up three times. Once in high school, right after prom, when we attempted to make love for the first time. I won't go into the detail to a total stranger, but nothing went as planned. She left me. We reconciled, only to break up right as college began. I was across the country and we were both lonely. I still loved her, though, and through that entire time, I missed the smell of her hair and her smile more than anything else in the world. We reconciled a second time over Christmas break and didn't break up again until after college.
We were both exhausted back then. We both worked two jobs while finishing our secondary degrees. I wanted to propose that night. I had planned it out. But we fought and both said terrible things. I loved her too much to mean any of it, but I still said it. She cried and packed a bag and left me again. She's always left me.
For months I was sad, until one day she showed up. She asked me to marry her. She said she loved me, only, and wanted to be with me despite the fighting and the tears. I said yes and we married the next year.
It's been four years since then. Every day is difficult. But most days are more beautiful just because she's here. We've fought and cried, but the natural reaction to just end it all is gone. We know better now. Despite the fighting and the words, she's here for me. I'm here for her. I love and respect her too much to ever let her go again.
Maybe by the time this is read, I'm long gone. Maybe my children own our home now or maybe our home is gone—washed away by the ocean. None of it matters. At one point, she loved me and I her. In the history of time, nothing means more to me than that.
Meredith reads the letter four times. One for every year of the man's marriage. By the fourth time, her tears are softer. She barely sniffles. She rolls the letter up and slides it into her pocket. She keeps the bottle.
Charlie waits for her outside. Meredith smiles.
"Mama!" the little blond girl cries. Meredith never expected to love her so much.
She picks the girl up and holds her on her hip. "I have something for you." She draws the green sea glass from her pocket.
Charlie makes a squeaking sound and grabs the glass with her sand-coated hands. "Gween."
"Green," Meredith stresses the R.
"Gween," Charlie tries again.
"Close enough," she kisses her daughter's forehead. "Where's daddy?"
Charlie's smile grows. She adores her father more than anyone in the world. "Upstaiws."
Meredith walks into the beach house and sets Charlie down. "Will you add that one to your pile? I have to talk to daddy."
The little girl nods and runs off to her room. She'll count every piece, even though she can't go above seven, and report back. Last time, she said they had eleventy-hundred four pieces. Meredith counted one-hundred and sixteen.
The office is quiet and cool. He has all the windows open. He sits behind his desk, staring off into the distance. When she met him, Derek was so young. His face has aged, just as hers has. She likes the way the skin near his eyes crinkle when he laughs. She likes that his body isn't so hard and unyielding any longer. He still jogs, but age has added a roundness just as childbirth has done the same for her. He turns to her, able to find her in a fog if need be. He smiles.
Meredith glides past him and sits on the window seat. She looks out to the lighthouse.
"What do you have there?" he asks. He sounds tired.
"I found a message in a bottle." She hands him both the bottle and the note. "It's a love story."
Derek takes both and sets the bottle on his desk. He reads the note. Meredith watches his eyes glide across the page. He's always been a slow reader, which drives her mad most days. Today, she's content to watch him take his time.
Outside, the sun begins to drift towards the horizon. The days are shortening. October is soon and they'll need to buy Charlie winter clothes.
Derek's hand touches hers. She opens his palm to her.
"It's a pretty story," she says without looking at him.
He says nothing. He takes his hand away and re-rolls the note. She watches him.
"How long has it been in the ocean?"
Derek slides the note back into the bottle. He corks it and displays it next to the family picture on his huge, oak desk. "I wrote it three days ago."
Meredith draws her legs to her chest. "Who did you expect to find it?"
"Not you," he whispers.
Charlie runs out the back door and into the yard. Meredith watches her twirl in circles before falling onto her back. She stares up into the sky. Charlie knows to stay close, but Meredith watches her anyway. She wishes she looked more like Derek.
"Were you insinuating that I had no boobs when I was fifteen?"
She turns just as Derek's mouth turns up into a smirk. "When I said you were stick straight? Yes."
"I had boobs."
"I never saw them."
Meredith checks on Charlie again. "I didn't break up with you after prom because of what happened."
"What almost happened," he clarifies.
"Yes, that's true." Meredith curls her hand over his knee. He looks up at her. "I planned that night as much as you did. It wasn't presumptuous. I broke up with you because, for just a second, I thought I was too wrapped up in you. I thought I wasn't my own person anymore."
"I've thought that about myself before."
"How can you stand it?" she asks.
Derek leans back in his chair. "I decided that I liked the person I was, whether it was because I was wrapped up in you or not. I grew up loving you and you made me this person. I love you because of who you helped me to become."
Meredith watches Charlie roll around in the grass. "She's happy."
"Are you?"
"Most days."
"Today?"
"No, not today."
Derek leans forward and takes her hip. The shape of her body has changed so much over the years. He likes the new curves. The freckles and the dimples. "I'd like things to get better."
Meredith takes his wrist, wraps her fingers over his pulse. "Did you mean everything you wrote in the letter?"
"Every word."
She turns to him, stealing her glance from her daughter.
He says, "It's never been easy with you, but I never wanted easy. I've always wanted adventure and someone to test me. And I met the perfect woman when I was fifteen years old. You're not a difficult person by nature, but we've never really meant to be together. I know this. But that doesn't change that I need to be with you if I want to breathe fully. And just because we shouldn't be together doesn't mean we won't be. Doesn't mean I'll ever give up on you. You're the kindest, most loving, most brilliant woman I've ever met. You're more beautiful than any model and you're the sweetest person I know. I can't change our oil and water effect, but I can work through it. I love you, only, and swear to continue to love you all the days of my life."
Meredith wipes away her tears. She closes her eyes, leans forward until her forehead presses to his, and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I've been so distracted. I love you, too. I love you so much."
Derek kisses her briefly. He wants to reassure her. Of what, he doesn't know, but he understands it's necessary.
"All I've ever wanted is her." Meredith glances outside. "I think I let her win all my affections. I think I chose her."
"It's okay." Derek wipes away her tears. "I'm glad you chose her. She needs you in her life, just as I do. But the difference is, I understand. Charlotte isn't old enough to understand balancing time. She wants you every moment of the day. I can wait for my time."
"It's not fair," she whispers miserably.
Derek holds her shoulders. "Maybe not, but I'm a patient man." He smirks at her. "I waited for you for fifteen years and beyond, I think I can wait until I have your attention again."
"I want you to have it now."
"It won't happen overnight."
"I'm sorry," she sighs.
Derek tips Meredith chin up until their eyes meet. "I love you no matter what. Remember that. It hasn't been easy for any of us, but we'll make things better."
"How?"
Derek stands, taking his hand in hers, and makes her stand alongside him. They stare out the window as Charlie dances in the wind. She picks nearly dead dandelions and whistles to herself. "By loving her and remembering she's the reason we're here."
"Do you ever feel sad? Because she's not yours?"
Derek wraps his arms around Meredith's waist. "She is mine," he whispers into her ear. "You know that. We could never tell her what really happened. She'd feel badly about herself."
"It's not her fault."
"And it wasn't yours," he reminds her for the hundredth time. "Rape is never, ever the victim's fault."
"I wish she looked more like you."
Derek kisses her neck. "She looks like you and that's all that matters."
Charlie heads back inside. Her feet pound against the stairs. Derek turns Meredith in his arms for the moments before their daughter infiltrates their quiet sanctuary. He kisses the tip of her nose and tucks her hair behind her ears. In one look, he tries to make her understand how much he loves her. How much her time away from him, when their daughter was conceived, doesn't ruin him. In fact, when he looks at Charlotte Grace, he never sees the man who ruined his wife's life. He doesn't even resent her—he never did. Instead, he sees the happiness of a little girl who has parents that love her. Despite it all, the years of Meredith trying to make it up to her daughter—of trying to rewrite her daughter's history—and the times when Meredith couldn't overlook the guilt, he still loves her more than he ever thought possible. He wants nothing more than ultimate happiness for her and Charlie.
"Mama, Daddy!" she bounds into the room with the bare dandelions. "Look."
She holds them up to her parents.
Derek drops his arms from Meredith's hips to pick Charlie up, but Meredith doesn't move. He stares at her.
"First step," she says quietly, "is not forgetting how much we love each other."
He smiles. "What's the second step?"
"I don't know. But we'll figure it out."
Charlie holds up the flowers impatiently. "Look!"
Derek and Meredith crouch down at the same moment. Charlie separates the bunches and hands them to both her parents. "I picked them for you."
Meredith lines up the length of her body alongside Derek. He smiles at her and sniffs the odorless bushel. "They smell good," he says to Meredith and then Charlie. "Thank you, sweetie."
"Mama, smell," she demands.
Meredith complies. She reaches for Derek's hand and links their fingers together. "Thanks baby," she says, but whether she meant it for Derek or Charlie, neither knows for sure.
"My girls," Derek smiles and draws them both into him. Like feathers in the wind, they tumble into him without a moment's pause.
