for peter_weps_ince

[mute_clay]

It’s the ocean. The Sea.

He’s never seen it before.
Has always imagined it to be like the lake.
Just bigger.

He hadn’t thought it would be like this.

There are people about, noises, smells, but all he can hear is the sound of the waves, the heart of the great water beating against the shore. The pier. It is all he can smell – no – all he can taste.

The lake was like a looking glass hidden in the heart of the forest, but this –
This is like the woods themselves. Beautiful, and dark, and terrifying. Calling, just like the forest could, but with rhythmic sounds instead of whispering trees.
A drum instead of a flute.
And yet, so alike.

He’d been elated when Orlando had taken him to the state park, but there had been paths, and people. And picnic tables. This is more like it.
This is wildness.
Ancient and untameable.

Clay’s aware that he probably looks like a moron standing there. But it doesn’t matter. How can anything matter when the world is wild and beautiful?

He walks closer.

Comments

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

"You done any fishing?" Weps stands on one of the few flat rocks available and casts his line.

"I love it - it's peaceful, but on rocks you need to be safe. You need to understand how ebb and flood tides affect certain marks. See that rock mark there?" Weps points to a clear demarcation of colour on the rocks above them.

"That’s a high water mark. But look just above - that ledge - you'd think you'd be safe there - wrong. On the flood tide the weight of water pushing forward straight at the rocks can produce high swells that rush up the rock face and could wash you off."

Weps smiles. "And that happened to me a few times when I was a kid. My dad always gave me hell..."

Weps looks over at Clay. "You ok there? Theres some coffee in my sack if you want some. Help yourself."

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay gives him a thumbs-up and a blinding smile.

He locates the coffee, pours a small amount into the lid, and sips it slowly. Then he spends some time examining the rocks, looking for weak spots and examining the water marks Weps talked about. And just feeling the texture.

He enjoys being outside, he feels relaxed in Weps' company, and he could look at the waves forever. Even though it's a bit chilli.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps watches Clay out the corner of his eye as he clambers about the rocks, as sure footed as anyone he's known. Reminds him of himself.

Weps recasts his line looking for a deeper pool, remembering telling his son on one of their camping trips about why fish go where they go, do what they do. He sighs and thinks about his son, the lost time, the lost treasured weekends teaching him about life.

Anchoring the rod, he sits down and puts his head in his hands. He's almost forgotten that Clay is there.

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay has satisfied his curiosity in regards to the rocks and turns to look at Weps who is sitting with his head in his hands, the image of sorrow.

Clay carefully makes his way to him and crouches down, putting a hand on his arm, his face filled with concern.

Is something wrong?

There was a time where he would have considered another man's burdens none of his business but that had changed with Callie. A change that had been complete once he had gotten here, somehow finding himself acting like Callie more and more now that he was alone.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps looks up at Clay's concerned faceand manages a smile.

"Sorry, Clay... just thinking about things back home. I have a young son. I miss him. I was teaching him to fish."

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay looks shocked. He cannot imagine how much it must hurt to be in this place when you have a child at home.

He touches his heart and bows his head slightly, hair falling in his face.

I'm sorry

Then he spreads his hands a little and looks pained. He knows he cannot do anything to make it easier.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps puts a hand on Clay's arm, squeezes it gently.

"Thanks ... it's just difficult at times. I can be fine for a while and then something reminds me."

Weps pauses. "This is going to sound crazy... but you make me think of him. He always would sit quiet while I fished; and his hair falls over his face like yours...fuck.. I'm sorry..."

Weps rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and stands quickly, walking to where his fishing rod is anchored and looking out to sea.

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay stays put, giving Weps some space. He knows what it feels like.
Being reminded.

Sometimes, Orlando reminds him of Callie. They both want to invite the whole world into their house and put a band aid on its scraped knee.

He takes out the photo of Callie from his back pocket. David had taken him to have copies made and they'd gotten the man at the copy shop to laminate a color copy of the photo. He takes it with him everywhere but he doesn't look at it often.

She's smiling at him from the photo.

He sighs.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps brings in his line and bends to pack his gear away. He turns and looks at Clay who is studying a picture in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Clay - turns out I wasn't much company for you. And the stripers don't want to bite today. Think I'll head back."

He walks over to Clay and looks down at the photograph over his shoulder.

"She's pretty - she your girl, Clay?"

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay nods, brushing the pad of his thumb lightly over her face, looking wistful. Then he shrugs and stuffs the photo in his pocket but the sadness clings to the corner of his mouth.

He considers, then signs drinking something, points to Weps, himself, and back the way they came.

Wanna get a cup of coffee or a beer?

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps grins and roots in his sack for his jacket, suddenly aware of the drop in temperature. He also pulls out a sweater.

"Yeah. A beer'd be great," he says. He holds the sweater out to Clay. "And you look cold - wanna borrow this?"

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay smiles his thanks and pulls the sweater over his head. It fits.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts walking back the way they came.

He hates the thought of leaving the beach and decides to go back soon.

He taps Weps' arm to get his attention and holds up the palm of his left hand so it is visible. Then he writes W O R K ? on it and raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps stops and looks at Clay, head on one side. He's not sure what Clay means.

"You mean do I work? Or do I know of work?" He smiles and touches Clay's arm. "Or neither of those?"

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay grins and signs hammering nails and sawing, then points to himself. Then he holds out his hand to Weps, making a small "go on" motion with the other.

I'm a carpenter. What do you do?

He would have guessed military on account of the hair, but Weps seems less - starched - than the other service people he's met.

Re:

[peter-weps-ince.livejournal.com]

Weps laughs and colours slightly.

"Sorry - still new to this. I'm a lieutenant in the navy, Clay - on a submarine. I'm the Weapons Officer - that's why I get called Weps - in an emergency its easier to shout than lieutenant - or Peter..."

Re:

[mute-clay.livejournal.com]

Clay looks impressed. He'd never be able to stand being on a submarine. At least not if they really are like the one he once saw in a movie. Back before Callie, when they still got into town. Before the local cinema burned.

The movie had been dull but he'd been able to feel the pressure of the water and steel.

He tries to sign that, getting squished, narrow space, before touching his own chest and shaking his head, clicking his tongue for emphasis and shaking his head.

He really needs to get hold of a pad.