My Daughter

• Kalina Li, Grade 10, Sydney Girls High School
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The screen door flapped frailly on its hinge, as icy air occupied the house. It was four in the morning when I realised you had run off again.

I grabbed my parka as I left the house, and slipped it on before the sharp air could only bite into my face and hands. The sun had not lit the sky yet- the streets were empty; the passing houses still asleep. In the distance, a fine line parted the sea and the sky. That was where I headed.

The beach looked stark against the bleak nylon sky. It was deserted, only the silence of the roaring sea, sweeping the shore with bits of debris and the muted crashing of waves against craggy rocks. And that is where I see you: a small crouching figure perched on a single rock near the forefront of the shore, where dying tides lapped its sides. I ran until the minute creature in the distance grew bigger and bigger. Until the crouching figure was right before me, trembling yet still. I wrap my parka around you.

‘Honey, let’s go home.’

No response; white knuckles grip the parka closer to your chest. Again there is only the muted sound of distant crashing waves, stifled finally by a restrained sob. What could I do? What would Carol do? I sink down next to you on the small wet rock, met with no rejections, and we watch the sea. Grey frothy waves and heavy sobs.

And then you told me.

You told me you couldn’t sleep and that you needed to see the stars. You told me that you ran here, forgetting your shoes and forgetting the cold night air. But the sky was thick with dark clouds, so you waited. You told me that you sat on this black rock and waited forever, until the night sky engulfed the sea horizon and you couldn’t tell when the sea ended and the night sky began. You told me it was the darkest black you had only seen in yourself. You said space was consuming the sea; everything was floating away from the earth, and the only thing keeping you down was knowing there was the cold wet stone beneath your naked feet. You told me that you were afraid that if you stepped off the stone you would fall into the sky, or if you stood up you would get carried away by the surging depths. You told me everything they said could not possibly be true- that the sea had a floor and that the sky went on and on- no one would ever know.

My baby girl, my little duckling.

You told me you were about to prove them wrong; you were going to leap into the sea and never come back.