AN: hi. This is a long overdue update. I'm currently on spring break and felt inspired to write for this again. I still firmly believe in Raleigh being head over heels in love with Mako the first time he met her, but let's switch it up a little. This is also more of a drabble exploring Raleigh's relationship with his mother and siblings, and the way they coped with her death. Enjoy.
AU:" the ocean is in love with you, and the tides are its attempt to get closer to you"
'Dom, stop telling the kid that. He might grow up to believe it.' Raleigh could hear his father's voice amidst the crashing of the tides, a deep rumble that sounded half like a joke and reminded him of an earthquake when he was a small child. His mother would always laugh at his father and clutch him a little closer to her chest.
'Raleigh, sweet Raleigh. You believe what you want to believe, hm? You create your own life, little one. Believe what feels right,' his mother would whisper into his hair, her voice thick with an accent and a cough that followed. He could smell the cigarettes on her breath and the vanilla in her hair right now. Raleigh grabbed a handful of sand beside him, clenched his fist until his knuckles were white and felt like they could split apart. He released, letting the sand trickle between his fingers.
The sound of the waves grew louder.
His mother often told him stories of how the ocean was a beautiful woman, with a voice like honey and eyes carved from reflections of the moon. It was a family tale passed down from generation to generation, an important story for a family built on the ports of Marseille. The Lapierre family were obsessed with the ocean, his mother would tell him, so much that a distant uncle firmly believed this fabled ocean woman would take him for a husband. He would be her king, and rule over the seas beside this ocean queen. Needless to say, he never returned.
'Great-great uncle Florence was a crazy man, let me tell you, little one," his mother would laugh and he would look up at her wide-eyed with a child's grade of curiosity.
'Did he not meet the ocean lady, maman?' He would ask, his voice so little against the size of his imagination. This was still when he spoke some French. Dominique smoothed his blonde curls against his forehead and looked out towards the ocean. A pile of cigarette butts was nestled beside them with an empty pack and a worn lighter.
'No, my sweet. He met another lady, one not so nice as the ocean lady. The ocean lady is very particular, and great-great uncle Florence was not good enough for her,' she would tell him. These were the bits of the story Raleigh cherished the most as a child. Yancy and Jazmine were fast asleep beside their father half a mile away from them, their father having fallen asleep himself hours before. He was allowed to know these parts of the story with no protest from his father and relished in the wonders that haunted his mother's family for generations. Twilight struck and the ocean was calm, small waves crashing gently against the sand.
'But, maman, great-great uncle Florence had a ship and a castle. He sounded like a king!' Little Raleigh would shout with such enthusiasm. He smiled and shook his head as he recalled saying those words to his mother. She always responded with a laugh, squeezing him with another hug.
The sound of the waves grew even louder.
Raleigh didn't smoke, but he kept his mother's lighter in a pocket over his chest. Yancy kept the last pack of cigarettes she touched in his back pocket, and Jazmine ties her hair up with their mother's favorite scarf. Those were the last things the Becket kids kept of their mother, after selling everything else. Those three things, and the story of the ocean woman. But, that was something Raleigh kept for himself. That was something only him and his mother shared.
Since the death of their mother, the Becket kids went their separate ways. They called each other infrequently and only once in the past few years had Raleigh ran into either of them exploring a faraway city. They always meet once a year, though, without fail. They communicated the meeting the first few years, but after that, it became a habit. Natural, almost. Yancy would always be the first one there with a bouquet of her favorite flowers laid across the grave. And then Raleigh would climb the hill with a bottle of wine and three glasses. Jazmine arrived last, just as she did in order of birth, empty-handed but with a voice that reminded Raleigh of Sunday church. She'd sing their mother's favorite song in broken French, and each of them would take a sip of the wine from their respective glasses before pouring the bottle out over the grave. Yancy would always throw the bottle as hard as he could against the evergreen and leave as soon as the bottle shattered. Jazmine always stayed a little longer, sometimes pressing her head against Raleigh's shoulder, but he would be the last to leave. He was always the last to leave.
Raleigh wondered frequently, to himself and never out loud, why she was buried there on a hill. It was an ugly, drab place in the middle of Anchorage miles away from any other grave, and the sea for that matter. His biggest regret was never arguing with his father of where she should have been buried. But, that was the year Raleigh lost his voice due to grief and whatever his father wished would be willed.
The Lapierre's lust for the ocean ran deep and seemed to have skipped over Yancy, falling onto Raleigh instead. Perhaps it was his mother's tales of the ocean that made him love it so much, but no matter where he travelled, Raleigh always found himself near the sea. He spent many of his days on the beach, a bottle of scotch and a box of crackers for the birds the only things he carried out there with him. He'd play with his mother's lighter, hoping that maybe she would appear out of nowhere and tell him he was a silly boy for playing with fire. It never happened.
The sound of the waves snapped him out of his nostalgia, slapping against his bare feet and sent shivers up his spine. Raleigh focused on the darkness for a moment, the sun a sliver behind him.
When did he get this close to the water's edge?
This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened. It was a few years back in Napoli where the tides crept closer to Raleigh as he drifted in and out of sleep. Or, that's what he thought. There were some days where it seemed like the water drew itself closer to him but he always attributed it to a drunken dream or sleepless hallucinations that haunted him.
The difference between then and now, however, was that he was stone cold sober and well-rested.
The water circled around him until even the sand beneath him was water. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Raleigh felt at peace for the first time in a long time. Maybe the water was so cold it felt warm to him, but it continued to rise around him. It engulfed his entire body until he was swallowed into the darkness and for a moment, he thought he would be meeting his mother wherever she was.
Instead, Raleigh opened his eyes and found himself under water, miles away from the shoreline. The kelp danced beside him to a song he didn't understand and he began wondering why he wasn't swaying in the waves like they were. His feet felt surprisingly heavy against the strengths of the waves, like they were anchored to the ground even though he was floating. Fish swam past him, eyes wide and mouths agape, as if they were surprised to see a human so far from land. His next thought was the fact that he breathed with ease and could see clearly. He remembered swimming as a child and how difficult it was to see underwater; how everything looked jagged and mimicked a kaleidoscope. This was different.
"Raleigh," a voice called to him. It fell on his ears smoothly, like honey melding into hot tea seamlessly. He spun around and was met by a sight so blinding he thought he was looking at the sun itself.
There stood a woman garbed in all white, like when the sea foams at the cliffs and resembles clouds. She had cropped black hair, black like the sea at night, that faded into the surreal shade of blue Raleigh thought only existed in movies. She smiled at him coyly and he felt his heart send waves through the ocean floor.
"Are you…" he began to ask before she nodded.
"The ocean lady? Yes, Raleigh, I am." She responded. Raleigh was both frightened and awestruck.
"How do you know?" He managed to ask. "I mean; how do you know my name?"
"You and your mother spoke loudly by the shore. And you visit so often, it would be hard to forget a person like you, Raleigh. Your stories are quite memorable." The woman told him, her eyes sparkling like sunlight hitting the water's reflection.
A blush crept up Raleigh's neck and flushed his face. Memories of the times he talked to the ocean like it was a real person flooded his mind. All the times he yelled his frustrations, whispered his deepest secrets, and asked his stupid questions to the ocean, as if the ocean would reply with some profound wisdom. It turned out the ocean just sat and listened.
"So, you're telling me you heard everything I've ever said… to you?" Raleigh asked, trying to process the situation. The ocean lady nodded.
"I hear everything everyone says," she told him, "you hear the waves of water, I hear the waves of voices."
"Why'd you pull me down here now, if you've been listening all these years?" Raleigh asked. The ocean lady turned her head away slightly, almost as if she was embarrassed.
"I've wanted to for many years now, Raleigh. I just never had the courage to do so until tonight," she said in a small voice. He was still confused.
"Okay, but why?" He pressed. "What makes me so special?"
At that question, the ocean lady refused to meet his eyes. Raleigh's heart began racing; he couldn't think of any explanation for why this was happening. He still could barely believe that this was actually happening, but he knew it was real.
"I'm in love with you, Raleigh," she finally confessed after an eternity passed. Raleigh stopped breathing in that moment. "I thought… maybe if I brought you down here, you could come to love me like I love you."
Everything hit Raleigh at once, like he ran straight into a brick wall. For some reason, without explanation, it felt right. The ocean's love for him, his love for the ocean. He knew he loved the ocean for a reason, and perhaps it was her all along, even though he didn't know it. The reciprocity fell into him, like the waves matching the beat of his heart.
"I can't say that I love you because I don't know you, but I wouldn't be opposed to getting to know you. Since, you're always listening to everyone else, I'd like to listen to your story," Raleigh said softly after a long moment.
Her face lit up at his response and she beamed.
"We don't have to stay down here, if you don't want to." She told him, wading closer to him. Raleigh shook his head and allowed her to take his hand. She pulled him closer to the ocean floor until they were sitting beside each other.
"It's okay, I don't mind. I always liked being in the water anyways," he told her. She smiled and looked at him with wide, adoring eyes.
"Do you have a name or do I just call you the ocean lady?" Raleigh asked, playfully.
"I have many names, but the one I have grown the fondest of is Mako," she said to him, folding her hands across her lap.
"Mako," Raleigh repeated, letting the name roll into the waves.
"So, did you ever meet my great-great uncle Florence?"