Zali had always wanted to live by the sea. She’d seen it once, accidentally, when the car ran out of gas on a family vacation after her father tried a shortcut that took them into the middle of dunes and trees and some ferns. Never one to draw attention, Zali’s parents hadn’t noticed when she’d wandered off.
She’d moved over dunes, through trees and upon parting the large, lacy ferns, suddenly it was before her, endless and white tipped and frothing. She’d never known anything so filled with power and beauty at the same time. Her father was power, her mother was beauty, Zali was neither, ordinary, and thus, never deserving of the ocean.
She struggled back to where her parents stood with the car and told them what she’d seen. They laughed, saying there was no ocean there for her. Zali was not a girl that merited such things. Special things such as oceans were reserved for special little girls.
They waited until someone came by who could spare gas. The man had sucked on the hose as Zali’s father was above that. Zali knew then the man was ordinary, like her, so it was only right he gave gas to daddy for free, daddy never even offering, and that he stuck the filthy hose in his mouth.
He’d leaned in Zali’s window and said softly, “Remember the waves. You know what you saw, always keep it with you.”
Zali had never seen the ocean again but every so often her nose itched, she could smell brine and the air felt moist. This secret was enough to make her happy, to satisfy what she had dreamed but had never hoped for. Others could think what they wanted. Zali had ocean to her fill and had become extraordinary for it.
