Shells and Wings
by Nissa Harlow
When I put my ear against his, I can hear the sea.
He hasn’t been the same since the day the waters tried to steal him from my arms.
When we walk at the shore, he stares at the setting sun with kelp-hued eyes until they start to water. His steps stop. His knees bend. His body twists into the sideways scuttle of a deranged crustacean. I won’t let go of his hand, so I go along for the ride as he dodges tourists and baby strollers, tangling in retractable leashes while I hop a crazy game of canine jumprope and whisper weak apologies. He always ends up in the same place, tucked in the shadow of a massive piece of driftwood, arms and legs folded into a neat package while I stand, stooped, and tug on his hand.
The doctors said he would be fine, given time.
When we order pizza, he insists on extra anchovies and eats with both hands, fingers arranged like pincers as they dart the cheesy slices toward his mouth. He won’t talk to me while he eats. He picks off the offending mushrooms with his claws and adds too much salt to his glass of water. The paper napkins with the pizzeria’s logo lie in shreds under his chair.
Time was given.
When we lie in bed, he’s as still as stone, frozen in slumber. But I can’t sleep. The sound of crashing waves keeps me awake. I take a pair of disposable earplugs from the drawer and insert them in his ears. The night grows quiet once more. But I still can’t sleep. I go to the balcony and clutch at the railing as I wait for more time. The sky tried to steal me once. That was before it changed its mind and sent me back.
The doctors said I would be fine, given time.
Time was given.
I wish for my promised wings as he wishes for his promised shell.
When he puts his ear against mine, I wonder what he hears.
“Shells and Wings” was first published by Kinpaurak on 05 April 2025.