Seeker’s Rock

On the far edge of East Beach, there’s a funny-looking boulder. It’s bumpy on the sides but smooth and flattened in the middle—a perfect place to sit and think. Legend has it that anyone who visits Seeker’s Rock looking for answers will receive a reply.  

* 

It was much harder for Julia to see in the dark. She used to love rising before dawn and running down to East Beach to watch the sunrise. These days, she waited for mid-day. That was the safe thing, the sensible thing to do. Especially for someone of her age. But she was tired of safety. She wanted to feel a bit reckless, a bit rebellious again. And if there was ever a time to act, it was today. After all, if Walter and Richard had their way, it could very well be Julia’s last chance to see the sunrise in her own hometown.  

So that morning, she’d snuck out her back door, being careful not to let the screen door slam behind her. Mushroom, her brown, long-haired hat, peeked up at Julia from her bed, which was perched atop the radiator.  

“I’ll be back soon, Mushy,” said Julia, in a low whisper.  

Mushroom blinked a few times, yawned, then curled back into a slumber.  

“Good girl,” said Julia, as she’d skirted out the door.   

The darkest section of the walk was at the far edge of Caper Road. There, the entrance to the beach was obscured by series of hedges and trees, planted in a maze-like fashion to keep it secluded from the throngs of summer tourists.  

The locals liked to complain about the crowds; it was the unofficial pastime of the town. Julia, though, found them fascinating. They came from every corner of the world; somehow, they’d all managed to find their way to her sleepy coastal hometown.  

Julia had spent seventy-five years of her eighty-year life in Waketown. During the other five years, she’d made a run at a publishing career at one of the big firms down in Boston. She could still remember window shopping on Newbury Street during lunch breaks, feeding the ducks at the Common on weekends, running to catch the Green Line to the office.  

For the first few years, she’d loved city life—the excitement, the spontaneity, the freedom of a fresh start in a new place. But after a while, it started to grate on her. She missed her mother’s Sunday stews and biking over to the market for fresh bread and falling asleep to the sounds of calling gulls—the gentle sea breeze drifting in through her open window. So, when she’d bumped into Franklin West, the best-looking boy in her high school class, one afternoon in the city, it felt like fate was pulling her back home. A year later, and newly married, they left Boston and bought their own house in Waketown. And there she’d stayed for the next fifty-four years.    

Before Julia descended into the hedges, she reached into her cross-body bag and pulled out a battery-operated lantern. Its plastic lamp had yellowed with age. But it still worked. Julia flicked the switch to the left, which illuminated the path in front of her. Step-by-step, she navigated her way to the shore.  

She trudged over the firm, ribbed sand. It was low tide, and a vaguely eggy smell filled the air. Julia made her way over to Seeker’s Rock, lowering herself carefully onto the flat surface. She removed her shoes, feeling the sand squish around her toes. 

As she looked toward the horizon, Julia could see faint streaks of pink peeking out over the water. In a few moments, the whole sky would turn a bright, orange sherbet color, casting the whole beach in a fiery glow.  

Julia sighed. She didn’t want to leave this place. Waketown was home. Its rhythms, its patterns, were imprinted on her soul.  

Or perhaps she was just being overdramatic. Silver Birch, the assisted living facility Richard and Walter had found for her, was just fifteen minutes away in Bunkerville. Just fifteen minutes from home. Still, it wouldn’t be home.  

Just then, Julia heard a rustling noise in the bushes behind her. Flashlight beams followed. Two men stepped out of the hedges.  

“What the hell, Mom?” said Richard, scrambling down the dunes towards her.  

Julia shot him an annoyed look.  

“What he means is,” said Walter, making his way to the beach, “we didn’t know where you went. We were worried.”  

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” said Julia, arms folded across her chest. “But I was starting to feel smothered.” 

“We wouldn’t have to smother you if you’d just keep us in the loop,” said Richard. “It’s slippery out here. You could have had a fall.” 

“Well, I didn’t,” said Julia. “Now, would you two settle down? I came here to watch the sunrise…in peace.” 

Tentatively, the boys lowered themselves onto the rock—Richard on her left, Walter on her right. By then, the sun’s rays were shimmering over the waves.  

“Remember when you and Dad used to cart us down here in the wagon on Saturdays?” said Walter. “And then we’d race over to Wendell’s for pancakes?” 

Julia smiled. She could even remember their orders. Two plain pancakes with blueberry syrup for Walter. Two chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream for Richard. And three banana pancakes with maple syrup for her and Franklin to share. 

“I’m afraid,” said Julia, feeling her two sons staring intently at her. “I’m afraid that if I go, I’ll leave me behind.” 

“Mom—” said Walter.  

“People always say that getting old is hard,” said Julia. “But it’s not. It’s terrifying. You start losing the people you love. And then you can’t do the things that you used to love, that used to make you, you. So, then what are you left with? Memories. That’s all you have. That’s all…I have.” 

It was so quiet that Julia could hear the dragonflies flitting over the reeds. She suddenly noticed her own breath, deep and heavy. Richard’s vinyl jacket rustled in the wind, and the heels of Walter’s shoes scraped against the sand. The breeze changed direction, and a buttery, syrupy smell wafted through the air. Her stomach grumbled. Seemingly on cue, so did Walter’s and Richard’s.   

“How about a family trip to Wendell’s?” said Richard.  

“I’d like that,” said Julia. 

Walter and Richard helped her up, and together, they made their way back toward the hedges. Julia took one last look over her shoulder, looking up at the sky, which had faded into a grayish-blue.   

* 

At noon, Carmen pulled into the East Beach parking lot. She scanned around her, left to right, before she spotted a tiny, baby blue WV beetle in the corner. A wall of bumper stickers—procured from everywhere from Vermont to Peru—covered the trunk.  

She switched off the engine and stepped outside. Carmen hadn’t been planning a trip to the beach. She was still dressed in her office clothes: a magenta skirt suit and suede heels. Carmen pulled off her shoes and tossed them onto the floor of the passenger’s seat. The soles of her feet burned as she made her way over the hot asphalt and sand towards the water.   

As Carmen rounded the corner, she saw a woman sitting cross-legged on the flat part of Seeker’s Rock. Her thick, brown curls twirled wildly in the breeze. A cooler with paint brushes sticking out the sides was placed to her left. Over her shoulders, she wore a gauzy sweater, which fell softly around her rounded shoulders. It had been five years since she’d last seen her, but there could be no mistake. It was Diana.  

With a deep inhale, Carmen stepped down towards the rock, stopping a few feet away from her sister. She was close enough to touch her. Still, for a moment, she thought about retreating to the car. Besides the footprints she’d left in the sand, there was no evidence she’d ever been there. But she couldn’t. Not again.  

“You were right, Di,” said Carmen. “About everything.” 

The woman sat up without turning around. Carmen crept quietly over to her side. On Diana’s lap was a small, flat canvas. Painted across it were abstract shapes, in various earthy colors.  

“How did you find me?” said Diana.  

“Cousin Bess,” said Carmen.  

“Damn it, Bess,” said Diana.  

“Di, I know I should have listened to you,” said Carmen. “I just…I wanted it to work. I wanted it to work so badly I ignored some pretty big red flags. I guess I just convinced myself that my life with him would be better than anything I had…could have on my own.”  

“Including me,” said Diana, roughly shading a square with a brown pencil. “You cut me out. No notice. Just stopped answering my calls. I had to find out through Bess that you moved to Connecticut. You know how crappy that feels?” 

“I was in denial, Di,” said Carmen.  

“No shit,” said Diana, looking up from the canvas. “What snapped you out of it?” 

“Maggie,” said Carmen, “stopped by the house this morning to drop off some papers. She saw Jim with his assistant. She sent me the pictures. And then…she keyed his car.” 

“I always knew I liked her,” said Diana. “Listen, I’m sorry to hear he turned out to be as scummy as I thought he was.” 

“Di—” said Carmen.  

“Hey, I’m not done,” said Diana. “But this is a lot for me to take in. I mean you and me, we were always so close. And then this guy shows up, and you just toss me out of your life? I don’t know how I move past that.” 

All of a sudden, a wave surged out of nowhere. In one sweep, it tipped the canvas into the sea, sending the cooler, along with Diana’s shoes, toppling after it. The two sisters, now drenched in salt water, scrambled into the waves, gathering everything that they saw bobbing along the shore. Five minutes later, they returned to the rock. For the first time that afternoon, they looked directly at one another. And then they laughed. And laughed some more. Eventually, Diana reached for the canvas, balancing it across her knees.  

“Your poor painting,” said Carmen.  

“It’s okay,” said Diana. “I always tell my students that mastering watercolor is about letting go of control. So, I guess this one’s really a masterpiece.” 

    “I’d better get going,” said Carmen.  

“At least dry off first,” said Diana. “Come on. I’ve got some towels and peach tea at home.”  

“Really?” said Carmen. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh, just come on,” said Di. “Before I change my mind.” 

* 

Lisa’s summer lifeguarding shift ended at 3pm each weekday. Most days were relatively uneventful—more chasing down flying umbrellas and warning teenagers not to fish off the pier than any true life-or-death situations.  

Today, though, she’d saved a little kid from drowning. Ben had been playing soccer with his younger brother. He’d gone into the water to grab the ball, but the rip pulled him out. His mom, thankfully, had taught him not to fight the current, but he was still exhausted by the time Lisa reached him. When she hoisted him onto the rescue board, he was shaking, eyes wide with fear. Lisa worried the experience had scarred him for life. But after a few hugs from his mom, and a firm-yet-understanding talk with Teddy, the head lifeguard, Ben was back playing in the tidal pools by the time Lisa clocked out for the day.  

“Good work, Bates,” said Teddy, as she’d hopped on her bike home.  

When Lisa reached her house, she saw her dad in the garden pulling weeds.  

“How was your day?” he said, looking up from the ground, a pile of freshly plucked dandelions stacked beside him.  

“I saved a kid today,” said Lisa. “A little boy who lost his soccer ball. Got sucked out by a rip.” 

“He’s lucky,” said her dad. “Parents need to do a better job keeping an eye on him...We’re having chili tonight. Probably eat about six when your mom gets home.” 

And then he went back to weeding. Lisa could feel her pulse racing. She clenched, then unclenched her fists. She didn’t know why she’d expected any other reaction. Even when she graduated as co-valedictorian, all she’d gotten from her parents was a couple of approving nods. Paul’s parents had thrown him a huge barbecue and invited all his extended family. On graduation day, they cheered and threw roses at him from their seats and held up oversized cutouts of his senior photos.  

“So embarrassing,” he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling right before they stepped on stage. 

Lisa wished she had an embarrassing family. The kind of people who were loud and outrageous with their love. Instead, she had parents whose love was so quiet, she sometimes doubted whether it existed at all. 

“You know,” said Lisa, “it’s such a nice day. I think I’ll ride down to East Beach for a bit.” 

“Okay,” said her dad. “See you later.” 

She hopped back on her bike. As she pedaled down Main Street, Lisa wove through the crowds until she reached Caper Road. She leaned her bike against the hedges and scampered down the path to the beach. Spreading a towel over the surface, she plopped herself on Seeker’s Rock and dangled her feet into the water below. She looked down at her reflection, which ebbed and flowed with the rolling waves.  

This summer, she wasn’t supposed to be lifeguarding. She was supposed to be in an air-conditioned skyscraper in New York, analyzing data for at one of the country’s top financial firms. When she first told her parents about the internship offer, they’d basically shrugged—that was until she mentioned the salary. Hour-for-hour, it was more than either of them had ever earned in their careers. 

Lisa felt crazy turning it down, but after attending the pre-orientation, she just couldn’t imagine spending every day trapped in that cold, windowless gray box. She wasn’t naïve. Realistically, she knew it was a losing game to plan to live the rest of her life in Waketown, where the already small pool of jobs in hospitality and tourism was constantly shrinking. But even so, being in Waketown made her feel like she mattered, like she wasn’t just some anonymous cog. She wanted one more summer in the place she called home, even if no one around her could understand why. 

From the corner of her eye, Lisa noticed a lone cormorant wandering along the shoreline. It gazed at her, then dipped its brilliant yellow beak into the water and plunged into the sea. Lisa followed, slipping slowly into the cool, salty water. She flipped over onto her back, feeling the sun against her face and trusting herself to glide with the currents. 

Ren Padilla is a writer, artist, and communications and marketing professional. She was raised in Southern New England and spent many seasons wandering and wondering in Northern New England.