BACK IN JERSEY, there was always work to be done.

With a red ink to-do list screaming at Sophie from the fridge, each day was a reminder of the chaos that existed even within the walls of her little apartment. Dirty dishes rotted away in the sink, her laptop was overheating with unfinished lesson plans, towers of Judah's unread novels cluttered up the living room. She couldn't even navigate her own mind without tripping over something.

Yet somehow, there was something comforting about the chaos. Sophie could at least find safety in the routine of it all, the consistency of it all. She liked waking up knowing that the to-do list would be there on the fridge, instructing her every move so that she wouldn't have the time or energy to formulate a single original thought.

But the aunties' house was different. Much different.

At the aunties' house, where the air was clear, Sophie's mind was too. There, where she spent her afternoons lounging with Terry Emo's gardenias, it seemed, all there was to do in her spare time was to think. Even if she tried to offer a helping hand with household chores, Terry and Jia sent her away saying something about her "needing rest."

Sometimes, she appreciated it. But other times—like when she caught Dawn or Judah setting the table or picking weeds or doing the laundry—resting made her throat itch.

The family thought she was made of glass.

Still, despite her feelings of uselessness, Sophie was in no mood to stand up to either of the household women. It was a two-against-one game that she was destined to lose.

So instead, she found solitude in exploration within the walls. She liked to play with Jia Emo's strange collectible items and ask questions about them, or stare deeply at the dusty photos and faces hanging from the colorful walls. She liked watching the world from the bay window, seeing cats cross the street, and the late afternoon bike riders. While the sun was up, it was all so peaceful. It was a picturesque life in a picturesque house in a picturesque town—maybe she was wrong for feeling purposeless.

But when the evening came, the peace that she had so carefully crafted during the day melted away. There was a restlessness in her body that could only be unleashed through dreams.

The night brought sweet, delicate dreams to Sophie, dreams of soft paper memory and the sugar-coated faces of her parents. They would squeeze her in powdered stardust and grab her hands, taking her on a hazy adventure that never seemed to last longer than a late night commercial break. Because each time, before she could realize that everything was a little too perfect, the claws of consciousness would pull her out of dreamland, and the heaviness of reality would force her eyes back open. And all Sophie could do was sit up in the darkness of her bedroom and face that reality.

—

Sophie's heart was racing as she woke.

She sat slowly, rubbing the sleep from her lashes, and glanced at the clock. It was well past noon. The soft scent of leftover pasta crawled into the room, and music from the radio downstairs drifted through the crack beneath her door. It seemed the house had started its day long before she had.

Her bedroom was covered in blue. She usually liked leaving the dark curtains closed in the evening, because it allowed for soft, baby blue hues to whisper across the walls when the sun came back out. It made her warm inside.

But today, it was a little too warm. Her body was hot beneath the blankets and her arms were dented in strange shapes from sleep.

Bad dream.

Sophie closed her eyes and pulled her hair up, hoping the air would soothe her burning skin, and dry the thin layer of perspiration on her neck. Breathe, she told herself. Her heart thumped quietly in her chest. Just breathe. She rubbed her eyes again, turning to the dark wooden nightstand. She had left a glass of water the previous night. She could've sworn her thudding heart caused the water to ripple. After a moment, she cupped the glass with two hands and downed it completely, inhaling sharply through her nose as the water splashed through her aching, burning body.

Sophie was tempted to shut her eyes again and lay in bed until the sun went down, but when she heard the loud laughter coming from downstairs, she sat up again. Breathe.

Breathe.

When her feet hit the bottom step, Jia Emo was already there to greet her. Little droplets of water were splattered against her gold watch and cold hands. She was probably watering the plants.

"She's finally awake," Jia Emo drawled, a light laugh escaping her crimson lips.

Terry Emo's bright humming sounded from the kitchen. "Oh, 'morning Soph!"

Jia Emo exhaled through her nostrils, lightly tapping Sophie's shoulder. "You could sleep through the apocalypse if you wanted to." Her aunt, despite the many years Sophie had gone without seeing her, looked exactly the same—it was probably the dye she put in her hair, or the botox she made sure to get. Her attitude didn't change either. Sophie wanted to feel happy about seeing her aunt, she wanted to hug her and greet her with a kiss on the cheek, but the sarcastic comment right after waking up from a poor night's sleep drained any remaining life in her spirit.

So she flashed a pathetic smile and hurried past Jia Emo into the kitchen where the sweet humming was coming from. To her surprise, the two siblings were already up. Well, Judah usually woke up early—productivity excited him. But Dawn slept until dinnertime on weekends, it was strange to see her with a cup of coffee nestled in her hands.

"Beach day!" Dawn said in a simple explanation. The youngest sibling stood up from the kitchen table, flouncing over to her sister like a little sunshine fairy.

Truth be told, Sophie wanted to do anything but sit on the beach for a few hours.

"We only got here yesterday," Sophie tried, meeting the gaze of her brother. When he didn't respond, she turned to Terry Emo, who was rummaging through a cupboard in the kitchen. "Can I help with something, Terry Emo?" she tried.

Jia Emo leaned against the pastel-colored countertop, blowing a permed hair out of her face.

"That's what I'm here for, Sophs." Jia reached out a finger, pointing at various hanging objects in the brightly-colored kitchen. "Do you think your aunt could've done any of this on her own?"

Terry Emo scoffed, finally pulling a large watering can out from beneath the sink. "Oh, please."

"Really, I'd love to help with something," Sophie tried once more. "Maybe I can, I don't know, weed the garden? Or I can water... if that's what you need."

"I thought you had a black thumb!" Terry laughed, fixing a straw hat over her head. "Look, Judah and Dawn are already going. What's the harm in a beach day?"

Sophie frowned.

The late spring afternoon was breezy. This meant the waters would be far too cold to swim in. Instead, the siblings brought their beach chairs, blankets, and umbrella.

The trio laid their belongings in the sand. Sophie glanced up, towards the afternoon sun, towards the quiet waves lapping at the shore. The tide was low today. If it were a little warmer, it'd be a good swim day. She watched as her sister ran out towards the waves, boy shorts and t-shirt flapping behind her in the wind. Dawn reached down and plucked a shell from the sand, the water crashing up against her legs. 

Sophie remembered this beach. She remembered when the whole family used to visit the aunties during summer break. She remembered the sand fleas Eomma and Dawn always went searching for. She remembered the homemade lunches Appa would prepare.

She was starting to feel nauseous again.

Judah squeezed a bottle of sunscreen as he sat beside his sister on the blanket. He glanced up for a moment, meeting Sophie's gaze. He always seemed to notice what she was feeling. "You okay?" he asked, immediately searching through his bag for something to aid her current state. "Lunch isn't settling well, huh?"

"Yeah." No. It wasn't that.

"I told Terry Emo pasta first thing in the morning wasn't a good idea," he sighed. "You've always had a weak stomach." 

"No," Sophie started, trailing off as her stomach lurched. She gripped the edges of the towel and clenched her core, forcing the sickness to ebb for a moment. She breathed.

"Guys!" Dawn called, running back to their little camp with a smile on her face. The wind tossed her hair into all sorts of funny shapes. "Look what I've got!" Before either of the siblings could reply, she reached a palm out revealing two sand fleas she had somehow plucked from the ocean.

Nausea returned immediately. But it wasn't the creatures themselves that triggered it. Sophie glanced down at the sand, clenching her body again.

"Very nice, Dawn," Judah said, once again noticing Sophie's expression. "Could you... um... put those back where you found them?"

Dawn caught on. "Soph," she started, immediately retracting her hand. "Are you okay?"

Sophie stared back at her sister, the pale constellations that dotted her cheeks, the warm amber in her eyes, her skinny limbs and plump cheeks. Dawn was her younger sister. Dawn wasn't supposed to be worrying. 

"I'm fine." Sophie frowned. She caught her siblings exchanging a look.

"We can head back to the house, if you want," Dawn tried, dropping the creature onto the sand. For a moment, the three watched as the tiny crab creature scuttled about, before it buried itself within the grains.

"No," Sophie snapped back, as if she was proving a point. "I'm alright, don't worry about me." Don't worry about me. Don't worry about me. She felt as though she had spoken these words to Dawn a hundred times in her head.

Dawn blinked. "Suit yourself." She dusted her sandy hands and turned back to face the water. "I don't care if it's cold, I'm going to swim."

"That's a horrible idea," Judah responded. "You don't even have a towel."

But she was already peeling her t-shirt off. Leaving her shorts on, Dawn took off running towards the water in her bikini top, while the older two remained safely under the umbrella. They watched as the white waves crashed against her pale body, as the ocean leaped over her, swallowing her for a moment before she emerged, hair sticking to her back and face.

"Stupid," Judah said, but he was smiling.

Sophie wanted to smile too. But the nausea returned.

"Jude," Sophie started, placing a hand over her stomach. "I don't feel good." The sun was too hot, too bright. She felt as if someone had wrapped a plastic bag over her head. The aching was everywhere, but the strongest behind her eyes. She closed them for a moment, but the world swirled and swirled, splotches of green and blue dotting the darkness of her eyelids.

She felt Jude's arm on her shoulder. "Sophie," he said, but his voice sounded echoey and distant. The sound of the waves swallowed his voice and drowned her in silence. She tried to open her eyes, but was only met with blinding white, blinding, scorching heat, and then suddenly...

Darkness.

—

For a moment, Sophie thought she was back in New Jersey. Back home. She thought she could hear the gentle hum of the TV, the whir of the air conditioning from the living room. She thought she heard the wind chime outside her apartment balcony, the cars racing from the city below. But then she opened her eyes, hearing nothing but silence. She couldn't be home—the apartment was never this quiet.

A ceiling fan sat idly above her, the multi-colored blades stretching from the center like flower petals. She felt the scratchy texture of the couch cushions below her, finally recognizing her environment.

Sophie sat up slowly, the splitting headache returning behind her eyes. It was a little duller now, but enough to make her lay back down immediately. She was laying on the couch in the living room. Neither aunt was in sight, but she could smell something baking from the kitchen. If she stood up, she could peer into the kitchen from the living room, but—

Her ears rang.

An almost-empty glass of water sat on the table beside the couch, and a damp towel sat on the floor next to her. There was also a bowl of fruit, an uneaten sandwich, and a bottle of Advil sitting on a wooden stool next to one of Aunt Jia's prized, red loveseats. Sophie sighed lightly, opening and closing her eyes—maybe she had been dehydrated. Maybe that was why she had fainted in the middle of their beach day. 

She hoped that was why.

A slight thumping from the hallway caught her attention—someone was coming down the staircase. Sophie opened her eyes and Dawn appeared at the edge of the hallway. She was wearing one of Sophie's old high school t-shirts, Judah's basketball shorts, and her hair was damp.

"Are you okay, Soph?" Dawn went straight to the point.

"I'm great," Sophie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Where are the aunties? Jude?"

"Somewhere," Dawn waved the conversation away with her hand. She trod into the living room, hopped down the singular step, and planted herself onto the carpet, right in front of her sister. "It wasn't the sand fleas that made you nauseous, was it?"

No matter how deep she hid, Sophie realized she could never truly hide from her little sister. Dawn was much more perceptive than she was given credit for. And at that moment, it was slightly annoying. She sighed lightly, watching the girl as she ran her fingers through her wet locks.

Dawn was half-right. It wasn't the sand fleas, but a memory of them.

Eomma loved finding ocean creatures. She was always excited when a ghost crab appeared in the night, its little white eyes poking above the sand. She loved pointing at the baby jellyfish that washed up onshore as she held the children safely behind her legs. She loved finding dried, empty shark egg cases. Most of all, she loved the creepy crawly sand fleas.

Sophie's heart swelled and ached at the memory. But she shook her head. "It was," she responded quickly. "They're really gross looking."

Dawn blinked. "I guess." She paused. "Are you sure that's the reason why?"

"And I was severely dehydrated," Sophie said, slowly sitting up completely. She glanced over into the kitchen, half expecting one of her aunts to jump out of nowhere. But no one did. "I'm fine, Dawn. Really. You don't have to worry about me."

Dawn stood up from the carpet. "You keep saying that," she muttered.

"I know."

It seemed Dawn could sense Sophie's desire for solitude, so the younger stood up, tilting her head in a sympathetic manner. "Well," she sighed, straightening the wrinkly t-shirt with her fingers. "Everyone's going to be home soon. We're doing burgers for Jude tonight."

The house would soon be full of life and noise again. "I think I'm going to take a quick nap," Sophie said and sat up completely, and there was a sharp pinching behind her eyes once more.

"Another?" Dawn asked in Korean—as their father would—but she was laughing slightly.

"I'm still tired," Sophie waved her sister away. "I can take as many naps as I want." Without waiting for a response, Sophie braced herself and stood up from the couch, making a beeline towards the staircase. She didn't have to look to know that Dawn was watching her with that dewy, oh-you-poor-thing expression.

The feelings were starting to return. The swirling feelings that chained her to the icky-sticky walls of her memory box. Sophie thought the Delaware winds would blow them away, at least for a little bit. She didn't think it would take such a short amount of time for the tsunami of grief to come roaring back.

After the accident, all Sophie thought she needed was a quick change of scenery. She had been living in that same stale apartment, teaching at that same creaky school for an entire year. She thought the hurt would stop, the noise would stop.

She thought the sadness would stop. 

She thought that maybe the crystal beaches would distract her, hypnotize her into feeling really, truly happy again.

But as she closed the door behind her and flopped onto the baby-blue bedsheets, the horrible, thundering stormcloud of dread appeared on the horizon. She couldn't escape the feelings, the dreams. Not even here, in the little castle of white and yellow, the enchanted cottage by the sea.