2. Ebb & Flow

2

EBB & FLOW

TERESA

D oing yoga on a sad patch of grass at a gas station just off the interstate isn't ideal, but when you've been stuck in a car for four hours with two of your closest pals, what can you do? My body needs to move—it always has.

"Fuck off, dude," Zephyr barks behind me.

I lower my head to look through my legs. Some guy with a leery tilt to his gaze stares at my ass.

I get it, dude, there's a lot to stare at. It's beautiful.

At the same time, I'm glad Zephyr's watching my literal back. They may only be five-foot-four, but they've got wide shoulders and a mean stare ‘forged in the fires of livestream chats.' I switch to upward dog to give the guy less incentive to ogle me, and also because I need the reverse stretch. Balance.

"We need, like, one of those changing tents they used to have on the beach in the old days, you know?" Zephyr jokes.

"Ugh, I know. It's simply indecent how hot I am," I answer, turning my head to send a smirk their way.

Their lips quirk back before their eyes drop to their hands, which quickly find something to do. They find a button on their sweater, twisting it idly.

Uh oh, their sad brain's kicking in again. Can't have that.

"Hey you," I say. "Maybe I should start a yoga studio here. Stretching after all that driving feels orgasmic. You wanna join?"

Their eyes widen as they look up. "You want my body to be perceived on the side of a road in truckertopia?"

I snort, falling to my knees for cat-cow as I table my body. "Zeph, that sounds like a crime scene."

"It would be," they muse. "Besides, if I'm not being paid to be perceived, no one gets a show."

"Mmm, such a business-business person you are," I hum, flipping my back between arched and concave. I sigh as the blood flows through me, releasing all the pent up stress of the road vibrations.

The way they talk, it makes Zephyr sound like a sex worker, but they just play games for other people's amusement. It's not my thing, but I love that for them.

It used to throw me off, how they'd essentially go into power save mode when we would all hang out, until I figured out that unlike for me, performance is a drain on their psyche.

We may have started as frenemies, however, because I didn't get how playing video games on the internet deserves a fanbase or monetary compensation—at first. But my guilty pleasure is watching dermatologists pop pimples, so, really, who am I to judge?

Zephyr's eyes fall to the ground as they get lost in thought. When my Lola died, it was honestly awful. It's part of why I'm in Zephyr's car—as someone with the experience of losing a grandmother, and also—

"I'm thinking, for trucker yoga, we could put the studio in one of those semis. Then we can take the show on the road!"

I know how to keep things light. The worst part of grieving for me was everyone being sad and empathetic. So I'm here to keep Zeph peppy. Or at least as peppy as a chronically depressed nonbinary cynic can get.

"You don't even want to open a studio, dork," Zephyr laughs. "You said it was too much responsibility and you're too much of a free spirit."

"Ugh, I know. Owning a business is too close to making my mom actually proud of me. Pass!"

"How quickly your dreams fall to pieces," Zeph laughs .

An extremely loud wolf whistle sends me to my feet. I whip around, ready to catcall back because, in my experience, guys with that kind of audacity are never prepared to be catcalled back. I'm sure some of it has to do with my size too—they don't expect someone like me to have any confidence at all. It terrifies them.

I love it.

"Ey, sweetheart, you're lookin' good. Can I take you home, smack that sweet ass of yours?" I call out.

If she was a stranger, I'd have been even more aggressive, but our resident mom friend, Taara, beams back at me. An assortment of snacks bundled up in her arms wages war with her grip. Two energy drinks and a can of tea threaten to slip through her arms.

"Hell yeah, a hot bitch like you? Let's go," Taara says. "But only if someone is willing to help me take a load off."

Zephyr jumps forward to help, already most of the way there. Our resident perpetually helpful NB catches the cans just before they plummet to the ground.

"So proud of you asking for help for once," Zephyr snarks.

"Hypocrite," Taara lashes back with a wink.

Zephyr blushes, walking the drinks to the car as they turn away .

"I wanna say deep cut," I laugh, "but that's so surface level for either of you."

"The murders I would commit for your audacity," Taara muses.

"I'll keep that in mind for later, but I do try to share how perfect I am with the world. It's the least I can do."

"Truly beneficent," Zephyr nods sagely. "So humble."

I flick my head, tossing my hair in acknowledgement. A long time ago I would joke about being a bad bitch, but then by faking it, I actually made it happen. I really am one now. All it takes is the audacity—cishet white boys shouldn't hoard it all to themselves.

Zephyr looks out across the top of the car, scanning the road. "How did we get this far ahead of them?"

"Because Dawn's driving them and you're driving us."

"I was only going ten miles above the speed limit," they grumble.

"I'm sure Dawn will catch up any second now," Taara nods, a smirk tweaking her lips.

Dawn and Anelisa will not. Dawn can't be convinced to take anything but the rightmost lanes, terrified she'll miss her exits. Zephyr, meanwhile, weaves in and out of traffic, speeding at every opportunity. For them, the slow lane is a passing lane. If Zephyr didn't find driving so soothing, Taara and I would have fought to drive instead. But it's hard to argue with someone processing their grief. Even if it means a little car sickness.

"Ah, speak of the angel," Zephyr says, digging into their pocket.

My phone goes off too, as does Taara's. It's a message from Anelisa. Well, not so much a message as a picture. It's pretty blurry—a zoomed in photo of what I can only assume is the sea.

"It's like one of those magic eye posters, right? The longer I stare at it, I'll finally start to see something? What are we looking at?" they say.

Another photo hits the group chat, this time slightly different. A maroon speck rises from the water, reaching out towards the sky.

"Hey, Anelisa," Taara answers, holding her phone out for all three of us as she turns on speakerphone.

"Did you see it?!" Anelisa's voice is surprisingly high-pitched. Elated.

"The red smudge?" I ask.

"The octopus! Or squid! Something, I dunno, it was huge!"

"If the dot is anything to go by, that's an overstatement," I laugh.

"It was fighting with this weird bird," Anelisa says.

"I missed it, whatever it was," Dawn says, slight annoyance in her voice .

She's probably bitter she didn't see it. Dawn always likes knowing and seeing everything she can.

"I tried to get you to! That's why I took the pictures in the first place!"

"I couldn't make it out," Dawn grumbles. "You guys got the best of the pictures—so as you can see, very illustrative."

"Zeph, are there, like, big octopuses out here?" Anelisa asks.

Zephyr shakes their head. "I've never seen one. But I dunno. Maybe things have changed since I've been back here. It's been a while."

Taara reads off a quick internet search. "There was a Humboldt Squid in Seattle, at around eight feet long."

"No, it was definitely way bigger than that," Anelisa insists. "And Seattle's too far away."

"I really don't think it was bigger. I mean, I would have seen it if it was that big, right?" Dawn contests.

"I don't think it was a squid—squids look way different, don't they? Their tentacles aren't quite the same—"

"Actually, octopuses have arms, not tentacles," Dawn slides in.

"What?" the rest of us interject.

"My whole life is a lie," I moan dramatically, putting the back of my hand to my forehead .

"At least we're both mourning now," Zephyr laughs.

Taara's eyes shoot up to register Zephyr's lighthearted mood before we all burst into laughter.

"What about the…okay, the Giant Pacific Octopus is a thing, right? How big are those?" I ask.

Dawn and I watched a few ocean documentaries once, but I double-fisted the main feature with a few pimple popping videos on my phone, so I don't remember much. I'm not very good at paying attention to videos. Well, other than the pimple popping ones. Seeing the release just makes my brain happy. Usually my brain just filters out stuff if it's on a screen.

"It says you have to go down, like, a hundred feet to see it." Taara reads further.

"Maybe that's what it was then," Anelisa murmurs over the phone.

"So, how far out are you guys?" Zephyr asks, suddenly getting impatient with the conversation.

"Well, I had to pull over," Dawn starts.

"You're acting like you weren't excited to see it!" Anelisa grumbles. "You were so excited!"

Of all of us, Dawn loves animals the most, which is saying a lot considering Zephyr fosters and I have a season pass to the zoo. I mean, Dawn does too. We go together. A lot.

"I dunno, maybe I'm grumpy from driving and also from not getting to see whatever you saw," Dawn sighs.

"I'm sorry, I really tried!" Anelisa soothes.

"So how far?" Zephyr repeats, playing with the door handle on the car to sate their anxiety.

"It says we're still an hour out from the cottage," Dawn says.

Zephyr's jaw sets.

"Cool, see you then," they say before tapping the end button on Taara's phone.

She and I share a look as Zephyr swings around to the driver's side. Without a word, we hop in after them—Taara in the front this time. Zeph was already naturally moody before their grandma died, but ever since, the sudden changes in demeanor come even more unexpectedly. They're not as receptive to my perky ways in this particular state. I'm better at the cheering up from mopey-sad thing, not the frustrated-angry kind of sad. Taara is much better at empathy than I am—much better at figuring out how to break through that kind of darkness. We all have our skills.

Meanwhile, I try to fight the selfish part of me that wishes this could just be a super fun trip where nobody had to feel any big feelings. As if this was a real vacation. One we all need—because fuck if LA doesn't suck the soul out of you sometimes. I'm not that big of a fan of the somber mood. It gets me thinking about work and the last few years and I do NOT want to think about her.

Great, I'm already catching on to Zephyr's dark mood. I pop my earbuds in and blast my 90s playlist. Something about road trips always makes me feel nostalgic. Maybe because I spent so much time in the car while my mom was at work.

I stare out the window, watch the coast pass by as the succulents give way to bona fide foliage and rocky cliffs turn to luscious sand. Twisting, winding roads fill in the remaining twenty minutes to the cottage. Though once I see it, ‘cottage' doesn't seem the right word.

It's huge, for one. At least three stories, it teeters at the top of a cliffside that juts up unexpectedly. I always think of cottages as white or brown, but it's blue—which checks out, as this road trip has proven it a popular color for seaside houses. I pop out an earbud, curious to hear what Zephyr thinks, coming back after all these years.

But there's no noise—except for the sound of our breath, the ebb and flow of waves in the background, seagulls cawing across the open waters. Something fills the pit of my stomach—dread—that this will be the mood for the whole ‘vacation.'

But I can't blame Zephyr, they're grieving. Instead, I'll blame Taara for talking me into coming. Even if I needed desperately to get away from Hollywood people (ignoring that most of us are Hollywood people).

"It's so much smaller than I remember," Zephyr says finally.

I snort. "I'm sorry. Is this petite mansion not big enough for you?"

Taara shoots me a look in the rearview mirror. I roll my eyes. Zephyr lets out something halfway to a laugh as they shake their head.

"I just don't get why me. Why did she leave it to me?"

"Because you're the main character in a horror movie. I don't know, Zeph. Are you really going to be this self-flagellatory the whole time?"

Shoot, that probably came off a little harsh. Ugh, the mood, but honestly, it probably has more to do with Zephyr looking this gift horse in the mouth. My mom worked her ass off after leaving her husband, taking three boys and me with her. It didn't matter that her husband was abusive, where Lola came from, you stand by your man—and it was worse that Mom ‘took' my brothers. The boys . So my Lola disowned her—which seemed pretty hypocritical if family is supposed to mean so much.

All the other nurses had some sort of timeshare thing with babysitting us, where one of them would sacrifice a day off to look after the other kids. Mom always packed us good food, but we could tell the other houses were so much better than ours—like they were actually houses and not apartments. We all went through phases where we didn't even want to be home. Until our Lola finally welcomed us back into the family and her home—when my oldest brother knocked a girl up. At that point, I wanted a grandma I could love so badly, I did everything I could to please her. With all of us living in the same house, I almost had to. Survival. She and I became so close that when she passed, it hurt like hell—even with all the messed up stuff.

But she was never well off. She left most of what she had to my brothers, the two of them that have kids—including her house to the eldest. A couple of silver coins to my mom and I…Which is just to say, I don't know what it's like to even have the chance to inherit such a nice ‘cottage.' I'm just grateful I get to dance for a living, even with people like—

Nope. I am not dealing with it.

"She means you can feel your feelings however you want," Taara says sweetly, still glaring me down.

What did I even say? Oh right, self-flagellation.

I won't have any sad-sack feelings, thank you. I lean forward, put my hands on Zephyr's shoulders and shake them as if all their sorrows and twisty feelings can be beaten out like dirt on a rug.

"You inherited a freakin' cottage! In late stage capitalism, on prime beachfront property, from a woman you mostly have only good memories of!"

"Old memories," they mutter.

"Mostly good ones!" I repeat. "C'mon!"

I jump out of the car, pull their door open, and drag them out. They groan, trying to get away with being so depresso. Taara also clearly sees the benefit of my ways, getting out as well.

"You just need like… A splash of water to the face or something," I say.

Zephyr raises an eyebrow, but before they can protest, I pull them behind me, rushing towards the cliffside.

"Teresa, I'm not sure why this is time to test the old adage, ‘if your friend jumped off a cliff, would you,' but it seems a little insensitive—plus, I do not want to scrape you both off the side of a cliff," Taara calls after us.

"Rude," I laugh back. "We just need to connect with the water. It's healing!"

I grew up inland, but my mom took us to the beach as much as she could during the summer in between work. It was easier when my Lola forgave her. Managing my brothers and me alone had to be a challenge. Getting my toes in the water ASAP for the nostalgia may be a bit selfish, but I really do think it'll help Zephyr too.

Eventually, I find a trail—I knew there had to be a trail—and I step more carefully as it narrows where the ice plants have taken over.

"Teresa, I do not have your stamina," Zephyr whines behind me.

"I'm not even moving that fast anymore," I laugh back.

They aren't even breathing hard—they're just being adversarial because they know this will be good for them. They want to stay in that sad, depressed headspace, but I won't let them. Mental cycling doesn't help anyone.

I lead them down, careful so that none of us trip on the shallow roots of the ice plants. Dawn would take this moment to rant about the invasive nature of the succulents, which she does at every chance. She's the only reason I know their name. To me, before her rants, they were just beach succulents. It's probably for the best that she's like forty minutes behind us.

Finally, we make it to the bottom of the path. Zephyr stops resisting and runs at the water full speed along with me. I glance back—Taara follows us behind. She's laughing, easily keeping up with us. Cardio and I get along pretty well, but she actually enjoys running and could easily outrun us. The way she follows behind is maternal, as if she's looking out for us should we fall. Her little pups.

Sometimes I think she takes that idea too seriously, considering Zeph and I are the youngest in our friend group. At thirty and thirty-two, respectively, we get called ‘the kids' too often for comfort. It probably doesn't help that both Zephyr and I work with people a decade younger than us or more, so we both can act much younger sometimes. Most of my coworkers really do feel like kids… There is a noticeable difference being in my thirties.

Zephyr lets out a yell as their feet hit the wet sand. The tide ebbs. I yell too, my feet already freezing from the frigid water.

It splashes up at us as the tide flows forward again, making all three of us shriek with laughter. A mischievous look passes over Zephyr's face. I don't have nearly enough time to dodge their attack as they pull me forward with them. Their hands slip along my arms, already soaked even though I'm only submerged up to my ankles.

"No! Zeph, please," I cackle. "It's so cold!"

"You started this, Resa!" they cry out maniacally.

I give in to my destiny as Zephyr pulls me further along, deeper into the ocean. I laugh as the salt water goes up my nose, my vision blurring as the wave hits.

"Taara!" I squeal, choking on salt water. "Save me!"

When the wave dies down, I can see her doubled over, laughing at the both of us from her safe place only shin-deep.

"Like they said, you got yourself into this!"