Maya - a Naruto Fanfic

8. The Eye Of The Storm

It's not ideal beach weather, with freezing winds and cloudy skies, but I'd insisted, and my parents had eventually relented.

Now, up to my ankles in the surf, I glance back at them. It used to be that they'd hold hands while they strolled along the beach, digging up shells and interesting rocks with their toes as they went. Now they stand apart, stationary, my mother staring up at the sky and my father watching me.

Her arms are crossed.

His hands are in his pockets.

I know that something's wrong, but I pretend I don't. One of us has to act like everything's normal, so I kick at the waves and let water splash all up my front, soaking the bottom of my shorts.

"Maya, try not to get wet." My father calls, but he's distracted. I can tell, because usually he'd run up and scoop me out of the water and spin me around and around. My mother says nothing.

As we walk back up to the beach, I take my father's hand, pulling it from his pocket and grasping it tight. I already hold my mother's. I want us to form a chain like we used to. My father has always been a fast walker, and holding his hand is the only way for him to keep pace with us.

"Don't cling, Maya." He snaps, and pulls his hand away. My mother grips my hand tighter. We walk on in silence, my father pulling ahead, charging off towards the house.

Leaving us behind.

When we get back, they'll sit me down, look me in the eye, and tell me they're getting a divorce. I'll scream, and I'll cry, and I'll slam my door, but it will still happen, finalised the day we get back from our last holiday together. My father will go back to Japan with the woman he loves, and his ex-wife will stay with his child in their small house in Oxford.

But right now, on that winding beach path, my shorts rub my skin raw and I'm cold and I'm wet, but for the briefest of moments, both of my hands are warm.

I'm 6 years old.