"Shannon Elizabeth!"
Startled, I glance up from my computer, where I had been engrossed in my work. Gulping nervously, I resist the urge to pull at the end of my shirt when I recognize the voice.
"Ah – yes, sorry, Rebe – I mean, Miss Manager, what can I do for you?" I stumble with my words as I glance up at my ex-sister-in-law, who is glaring down at me with crossed arms.
"Where are the notes from the Zwickle project? They were supposed to be on my desk an hour ago!" Rebecca reprimands with a gleam in her eyes, her harsh voice capturing the attention of our surrounding coworkers.
A blush rises up the back of my neck from the unwanted attention. Unfortunately for me, scenes like this have been becoming a regular occurrence.
"But I–I did – I even made copies and gave them to the other managers – "
"Do you think I would be here if I had them? If you had done your job right?" Rebecca cuts me off with a wave of her hand, her eyes narrowing. Around us, whispers and murmurs arise, causing me to blush even more deeply in shame as Rebecca continues. "Those notes better be on my desk in the next fifteen minutes or I'm writing you up again . It's no wonder my brother left you – you can't seem to do anything right," she finishes, leaning in and muttering the last part so that only I can hear her. Tears prick at my eyes and I have to bite my lip to keep it from trembling at her last comment.
A look of accomplishment flashes through Rebecca's eyes at my hurt reaction before she turns and struts away, her heels clicking against the tiled floors. As soon as she disappears, further muttering and whispers permeate the air around me, fresh gossip already spreading regarding the incompetent Shannon Elizabeth Hale.
Sighing, I turn back to my computer to re-print the notes Rebecca wants, knowing full well that I had definitely submitted them already despite her claims. A sudden hand on my shoulder makes me jump, and I turn to find my only solace in the office sliding into the chair across from me.
"I swear, you are too nice for your own good, Shan," Angela grimaces as she glares ofter Rebecca, her deep brown eyes narrowing as she watches our manager shut the door to her office. I smile softly at Angela, feeling a bit better having her with me.
"It's fine. It's to be expected," I mutter grimly as I pull my long dark hair up into a ponytail. Angela purses her lips, displeased with my answer.
"No, you see, that's exactly what I'm talking about! It's not fine and you shouldn't let her walk all over you. What happened between you and her brother is none of her business and she shouldn't be taking any of it out on you, especially in the workplace," Angela gripes, seething slightly. "You can't just take all this lying down!"
I shrink at her words, knowing them to be true but unwilling to do anything about it, especially as it concerned my ex-husband and his family situation.
"Even so, I don't want to cause any problems. . ." I trail off, biting my lip as I work. Angela raises an eyebrow at me.
"You might not, but I do! This whole thing isn't even your fault! For Rebecca to be taking this out on you when it is Peter who –"
"Ange," I stop her with a look of warning, effectively shutting her up. Even if I am a pushover, I can be scary if I need to be. "Please, just drop it."
The last thing I want is any of our nosy coworkers listening in and becoming the center of the latest scandal in the office. Angela purses her lips in understanding, but I can tell she's not done with me.
"Fine, but I'm just saying I'm not above decking either of those two siblings the next time they try to mess with you," she assures me with a sweet smile. A laugh escapes my lips and I grin at my best friend.
"I don't doubt that, but I'd rather not have you fired just yet. Otherwise, I'll be all alone here," I say softly. Angela smiles broadly.
"Oh sweetie, if I get fired, I'm taking you with me," she tells me brightly. "There's no way I would leave you here with these hyenas , even if the pay is good."
"And what would Jack say about that?" I tease her, knowing full well that she would do just that.
"Oh you know him," she brushes me off. "He keeps telling me I don't have to work if I don't want to, but I can't function without having some sort of purpose. I'll go crazy." I smile softly at the look of warmth in her eyes when she talks about her husband of four years. For getting married so young (21), they are an ideal couple, something I had aspired to.
"How is Jack?" I ask, watching her eyes sparkle at the question.
"Fabulous, as usual. He should be picking me up here any minute," she says, checking the time on her phone. "He's taking me to an art showing downtown and I still need to get ready. What about you, what are you doing after this?"
I frown and motion to my computer. "I have some overtime I need to finish and then I'm going to my parents' place." Angela frowns in response but before she can protest, I continue. "Are we still on for tomorrow? Avatar the Last Airbender marathon?"
Angela stands and rolls her eyes at me. "Sweetie, I swear, your obsession with that series is borderline concerning. You've made me watch it so many times I can practically recite it in my sleep. What's so great about it to warrant watching it a million times?"
A smile grows on my lips at the question as I consider my words. "It's hard to explain. . . The whole show just gives me so much peace, you know? Whether it's the storyline, the world, or its characters, I just can't get enough of it. It makes me feel. . . complete," I finish, feeling warm as I stare up at my tall and graceful best friend.
Angela stares down at me with a knowing smile.
"I call bull shit. You just like it because you're in love with Sokka," she accuses me, grinning broadly. "He's your ideal type and he's not even real – how sad," she teases, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
A hot blush rushes to my cheeks as I sputter my half-hearted denial, knowing full well that she's partially correct: I am in love with Sokka – about as much as you be with a fictional character. His character and growth throughout the series has always made me admire him, and as Angela stated, his personality is my ideal: someone kind, thoughtful, and funny. And not to mention, I always found him cute. . . but as a 25-year-old woman, I will never admit this out loud.
Angela smirks. "Yeah, whatever. I'll be there with wine. Tell your parents I say hi," she calls to me as she walks off towards her cubical to gather her things and punch out. I smile softly after her, feeling grateful that she is here with me and a part of my life.
Turning back to my work, I contemplate our friendship. Growing up, I had always felt out of place, out of sync with the world around me. It was difficult for me to form bonds with people, which is why it was so surprising for me when Angela decided that I was going to be her best friend back in elementary school. She was the exact opposite of me: exotically beautiful, outgoing, confident, and fearless, whereas because I felt so out of sync, I became a rather timid introvert and a bit of a pushover – although Angela always said that it is because I am too kind.
Even so, we clicked rather well and I felt as though we balanced each other. She was also the firm support I needed during my divorce and the shoulder I cried on. This is also why I admire her husband Jack so much, for making her so happy and being her strength when I fall short.
Grinning to myself, I shake my head and refocus on the paperwork in front of me, praying that I can get this done in time to meet up with my parents.
"Shannon, how would you like your steak?" My dad calls from the deck where he is BBQing our dinner.
"Medium-rare, please," I call back as I snuggle on the couch with my mom and a glass of wine as my (adult) younger siblings squabble over the remote behind us. It is pleasant and comfortable chaos that I am grateful for. After a long day at work, I had just managed to make it home before my dad started dinner, allowing me to change into a comfy pair of yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt before crashing onto the couch.
My mom frowns at my response. "Honey, you're going to upset your stomach. Are you sure you don't want it medium?"
I smile up at her and shake my head. "I'll be fine, mom," I assure her as I take the last swing of my wine and frown at my empty glass.
For some reason, I had begun feeling restless ever since I got here and my eyes keep being drawn to the ocean outside the window. Something is making me jittery and anxious, as though I'm not where I'm supposed to be.
At that thought, a scene from Frozen II flashes through my head and I smile, the song playing in my mind. Boy did I relate to that feeling.
After another few minutes of battling my jitters, I stand up, unable to resist the draw of the ocean.
"I think I need some air. I'll be back in a little bit. I'm going to take a quick walk down by the beach."
My mom's eyes flash in concern but she refrains from questioning me. She knows I've been having a hard time with the divorce and that I'm not one to talk about my feelings. Sighing, she gives me a small smile.
"Bring a jacket, okay? It's getting cold out and the forecast said it might rain."
I smile gratefully and give her a kiss on her hair. "Thanks, mom, I will. I love you." Standing up straight, I quickly grab a coat and walk out the door. Not looking back.
Once I'm alone, a wave of melancholy overwhelms me, and the smile I wore in front of my family falls from my face. I begin my walk to the shore, inwardly grateful to my parents for the location of their home. After a few moments, I reach the water and settle myself in the sand just beyond the water's reach, staring out into the ocean and allowing my subtle buzz to fade away as my jitters subside.
I have always felt close to the ocean, which I always attributed to growing up on the beaches of California. It was really the only place I didn't feel out of sync with the world, but as my mother was frightened of the ocean and its riptides the time I was allowed to spend in it was sparse.
Sighing, I think back on Peter and our divorce, wondering if Angela is right. Am I being too soft about the whole thing? The doctors had told me repeatedly that I am completely healthy, so the problem couldn't have been with me, yet Peter had been so angry with me about it.
Why am I the one who is blamed for everything?
Pursing my lips, I stare out at the ocean, mesmerized by the way the waves push and pull the water. Smiling softly, I recall Katara teaching Aang to push and pull the water in season one of ATLA and a yearning strikes my heart.
Why is it that whenever I watch or even think about the series my heart races?
Sighing, I think back to my earlier conversation with Angela about my obsession and the comment she made about me being in love with Sokka. Quite frankly, she wasn't wrong, but there was a little more to it.
Yes, Sokka is my type and I admire his character growth, but the thing I admire the most about him is how even though he was a non-bender, he was able to prove himself a true warrior, and even more a true friend. He overcame his insecurities – something I longed for. He had the courage to accept himself and all his faults and weaknesses and build on them to become a better person, something I wish I had the nerve to do.
Frowning, I watch the water, thinking back on my encounter with Rebecca earlier today. Maybe Angela was right. Maybe I do need to stand up for myself. However, something always holds me back and I fall into mediocrity, moving with the flow and never facing adversity the way I feel I should. I have the desire but not the nerve. Fear and a feeling of displacement hold me back from taking risks and standing up for myself.
Tears prick at my eyes from my self-deprecating thoughts. I take a deep breath and bury my head in my knees, my tipsy feelings not subsiding as much as I hoped they would when I hear a voice calling to me from the water.
"Shannon. . ."
Shocked (and briefly wondering if I'm drunk enough to hear voices), my head snaps up, my heart thudding for some reason. For some reason, the world around me feels much darker than when I closed my eyes a few seconds ago. Wondering if I had nodded off because of the alcohol, I glance down at my phone, which still reads 7:32 – which means I still have a half-hour before sunset.
Confused, I rub my eyes and try to fight off the last of my buzz, but when I reopen them it is still dark, save for the light of the full moon reflecting off the water.
Is it supposed to be a full moon?
I blink up at the light in the night sky, wondering if my eyes are failing me – or worse if I'm hallucinating – when I hear a voice call out to me again from the water.
"Shannon. . . Shannon Elizabeth. . ."
Tearing my eyes away from the moon, I stare out at the water in front of me, where a figure has appeared, floating above the waves. My heart flies to my throat and I have to resist the urge to slap myself in the face. There is no way that the figure in front of me is real. I am officially either drunk or hallucinating. Or both.
"Shannon Elizabeth. . . my child. . . it is time to come home. . ."
Hesitantly, I rise to my feet as I consider the semi-transparent figure that is floating in front of me: A giant Koi Fish.
I repeat:
A giant Koi Fish .
I again resist the urge to slap myself.
"Wh-who are you?" I ask tentatively as I step forward into the shallows, feeling drawn to the being. Something about it feels familiar even though I know how impossible that is. As I make contact with the water, my thoughts begin to fog. Fear and confusion leave me as I am filled with warmth and comfort despite the frigid temperature of the water that licks at my calves.
The figure in front of me shines a bit more brightly in the darkness. Without thought, I find myself stepping deeper into the waters until I am before the giant koi and up to my waist in the water, as though being called forth by the transparent being.
"I am La. . . and I have come to bring you home. . ."
The name 'La' pricks at my memory. I know that name. . . Why do I know that name?
"Protect the balance. . . guide the heroes. . . bring peace to our world. . . regain your true essence."
Before I can process La's words, a wave comes crashing over me, submerging me in the watery darkness.