West Pier (Chapter 4: Where the heart is)

Where the heart is

 

It began in his feet and rapidly made its way up his legs. Noah felt his body coming apart, much the way a bean bag would if the bag were suddenly removed from around the beans. The loss of control was sickening; the millions of pixels he had disintegrated into all seemed aware of where they should belong, what part they had occupied for the last fourteen years and how lost they all were as they floated and mixed on what felt like the surface of a tepid soup. The metallic smell that had lingered all morning was suddenly overpowering; it now felt as much a part of him as his mouth, skin or nose.

 

“Stay calm, Noah; I’ve got you; focus on the pressure of my thumbs on your eyes.”

 

He could still hear her. And yes, could still feel her warm thumbs on the scattered atoms that used to be his eyes, but only now, they were everywhere. In the connection, he could feel a heartbeat, hers or his, he wasn’t sure.

 

“We’re going to move now; I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

 

Noah felt a nauseating rising and falling in the substance they floated on, beginning in the parts of him that occupied what would have been his left and shifting under him, lifting him up and swooping him down.  Then another, bigger, more powerful. Then another, higher still. This time, however, instead of dropping off the other side, the apex of the wave curled, for a terrifying moment, lingered, and then crashed over and rolled, rolled and rolled.

 

In the darkness, confusion and commotion, Edie’s thumbs reliably remained in place over his eyes, which now bled through his entire body, along with the steady thump of a heart and a calm, kind voice that resonated though his being.

 

“You’re fine, Noah. I’ve got you. Got you. Got you…”

 

The tumbles seemed to be losing energy, and Noah became slowly aware of his body shifting into a more familiar order.

 

“Almost there. Almost home.”

 

Her hands were on his cheeks, his cheeks on his face, above his neck, over his chest…

 

“Almost home.”

 

He wasn’t rolling now; there was a solidity forming beneath his feet that he felt he was slowly skating over. In a final fizz of energy changing state, the liquid substance he had been a part of, seemed to deposit him on a shore, on dry land. Noah felt the welcome sensations of his own weight and the security of his own skin.

 

“Home.”

 

Edie slid her thumbs off his eyes and the sensation of a shared heartbeat left him. At once, he felt a pang of cold panic shock though his chest.

 

“Keep your eyes closed for a moment, Noah. Listen.”

 

He felt her take his hands and squeeze them comfortingly.

 

“I can answer some of your questions, but not all of them, Noah. We’ll have to work the rest out together. Together, OK?”

 

Tears squeezed through Noah’s sealed eyelids as he nodded.

 

“OK.”

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

Light flooded into Noah’s eyes as though it was the first time he had ever used them. The brightness and heat were overwhelming and forced them closed again.

 

“Oh, how stupid of me,” Edie chided herself. “I’m so sorry, Noah! I’ve forgotten how intense that can be in the beginning. Hold on a second.”

 

She let go of his hands and Noah could hear what sounded like the opening of a drawer and some rummaging about.

 

“Here we go. These should help.”

 

Noah felt sunglasses being slid over his ears.

 

“Try again.”

 

This time, through the sepia tint, it was bearable. Noah looked out at the sea from a huge window that extended from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. Save for a few wisps of white cloud that hovered over the horizon, the sky was clear. The flat sea sparkled sunlight that still stung his eyes somewhat as the ubiquitous chatter of distant seagulls made its way to his ears.

 

He turned back towards Edie, who was sitting on an unmade bed. The room was simply laid out with a white wardrobe beyond the bed and a dressing table and mirror opposite it. To his right, on a wooden table, was a turntable with the sleeve of Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys on top of its plastic lid.

 

“Um, this definitely isn’t my room, Edie; it’s not my house. Where…How..”

 

“It’s mine,” she interrupted calmly. “I can control it here while we work out what to do next.”

 

On the walls, there were posters of surfers, and looking more closely, Noah realised that quite a few of them were of Edie. In one, a wave curled over her as she crouched on her board, making it look as though she was emerging from a tunnel as her hand splashed water from its side; in another, she rocketed of the crest off a giant wall of water, suspended in a cascade of spray and energy.

 

“Under the table there. Go through my records. See if there’s anything you like.”