Excited By The Sea
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“I’m going to take you with me on a trip,” I said. “But first, let’s go for a walk.”
We went down the stairs and out of the house into the garden. It was still early in the morning so there were very few people about. We walked along the path that ran alongside the sea until we came to a place where it opened up onto an expanse of sand dunes.
There was nobody else around except for two men who had set up their beach umbrellas next to each other. They looked like they might be brothers or cousins. One wore sunglasses even though it wasn’t sunny at all. He seemed to have been waiting for us as he turned his head towards us when we arrived.
The man with no glasses didn’t look our way but continued looking straight ahead without blinking. His eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking.
“He looks drunk,” my mother remarked.
My father laughed quietly. “You’re right! But what does that matter? What do you think, Mom?”
“Well…” She hesitated before continuing. “It would probably be better if he stayed here.”
“Why is that?” My father asked her. “Is this guy dangerous?”
“No!” she replied quickly. “Not at all. In fact, I don’t know him at all. And besides, it doesn’t really matter whether he stays or goes anyway. I just thought it’d be nice if he did stay because then we could talk to him together.”
She smiled at me and added: “And maybe we’ll learn something from him too.”
“That sounds good,” I agreed. “Let’s ask him some questions.”
So we sat down on the sand next to them and waited for them to notice us. After a while one of the men got up and started walking away, leaving behind only his umbrella. Then the other man stood up and stretched himself. When he noticed us sitting there he stopped stretching and stared at us.
“Hello,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
His voice sounded rough and gravelly.
“Just enjoying ourselves,” my mother answered. “Doing nothing much, actually.”
“Enjoying yourself?” The man frowned and shook his head slowly. “How can anyone enjoy themselves when it’s raining cats and dogs outside? You should come back inside.”
“Oh, we’ve already done that,” my mother told him. “We decided to spend the day by the sea instead.”
“By the sea?” he repeated. “Where exactly is that?”
“Right here,” I said. “On this beach. Do you want to see it?”
“See what?” he asked suspiciously.
“Come over here and stand under your umbrella,” I suggested. “Then you’ll get wet.”
The man sighed loudly. “All right, fine. Just leave me alone.”
He picked up his things and moved off to another part of the beach.
“Now tell me,” my mother said. “Who are you? Where do you live?”
“I’m not sure I understand,” he replied. “Are you asking me these questions or someone else?”
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “You don’t need to answer any of those questions. We’re just curious about you. Why did you choose today to sit here and drink beer?”
“Drink beer?” he echoed. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re drinking beer,” my father explained. “Isn’t that why most people go to the beach? To relax and have fun?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “But that’s not what I mean. No, I meant that I came here specifically to drink beer. That’s how I always spend my days at the seaside. This is my favorite place. I come here every year, rain or shine.”
“Every year?” my mother asked. “For ten years now?”
“Yes, for ten whole years. Every summer since I was twenty-five. I’ve never missed a single day. Not once.”
“Wow,” my mother exclaimed. “Ten summers… How old are you now?”
“Forty-three,” he replied. “As young as ever.”
“When will you stop coming here?” my father asked. “Will you keep coming forever?”
“Forever?” he repeated. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I won’t. I’ll die eventually.”
“You’re forty-two,” my mother pointed out. “That means you’ve spent more than half of your life on this beach.”
“More than half?” He looked surprised. “I suppose so. Yes, that must be true.”
“Have you been sitting in front of that same umbrella for all those years?” my father asked. “Or has it changed position somehow?”
“No, it hasn’t moved at all,” he replied. “In fact, it’s still standing where I left it.”
“Really?” my mother said. “Then why did you move away from it?”
“To make room for others,” he explained. “If everyone sits under their own umbrella, there won’t be enough space for everybody. So I had to find somewhere else to sit. It wasn’t easy, but I managed it.”
“Didn’t you feel lonely without an umbrella?” my father wondered.
“Lonely?” he repeated. “Why would I feel lonely? I’m used to being by myself. I like having time to think.”
“About what?” my mother asked. “Your life? Your work? Or is it something else entirely?”
“Everything,” he replied. “Life itself. And everything that happens around me. All the little things that happen every day. They fascinate me. I love watching people and listening to what they say. I even listen to the raindrops falling on the roof. I pay attention to anything and everything.”
“You really are strange,” my mother said.
“Not at all,” he disagreed. “People who aren’t interested in what’s going on around them usually miss out on a lot. But that doesn’t bother me. I prefer to watch and observe. I’d rather stay home and read books than go to parties and bars. I know what I like and I stick with it. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” my father said. “But I don’t understand why you chose to sit down right next to us. Did you intend to talk to us?”
“Talk to you?” he repeated. “Why would I want to do that? I didn’t come here to meet new people.”
“So then why did you bring your things along?” my mother asked. “And why did you decide to take a seat right beside our umbrella?”
“My things?” he repeated. “What does that have to do with anything? My belongings are none of your business.”
“They’re not?” my father asked. “How can you possibly say that when you brought all your stuff with you? You could have easily sat anywhere else, but instead, you chose to sit here. Right beside us. In full view of anyone passing by.”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I wanted to see if you were interested. If you were worth talking to.”
“We’re very nice people,” my mother told him. “You should get to know us better. Maybe we’ll become friends.”
“Friends?” he repeated. “Oh, no. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. I wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”
“Your reputation?” my mother asked. “What reputation? Who cares about your reputation? We’re just two ordinary people enjoying ourselves at the seaside. Nothing special about us.”
“Maybe nothing special,” he agreed. “But I care. I always try to behave properly. I don’t want to embarrass myself. I’m afraid of making mistakes. I worry too much.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself,” my father said. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Nobody’s perfect.”
“Nobody except you, apparently,” he replied. “I’ve seen you before. On television, for instance. You’re famous. Everybody knows you. Why is that?”
“Because we’re good at what we do,” my mother replied. “We’re successful. That’s why people admire us.”
“Successful…” he repeated. “Is that how you define success? By doing well in the eyes of others?”
“Of course,” she replied. “It’s only natural. Everyone wants to be admired. To succeed in life. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Yes,” he answered. “But not at any price. Success isn’t everything. There are other important things as well. Like family and friendship. The ability to laugh. A sense of humor. These are qualities that matter most of all.”
“Perhaps,” my mother said. “But everyone says you’re rich. Rich enough to buy whatever you need or desire. Money buys happiness, after all. Don’t you agree?”
“Money certainly helps,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t guarantee success. Not if you spend it all on material goods. Then you end up feeling empty inside. Empty and alone. No one will ever love you. You’ll never be happy.”
“That’s nonsense!” my mother exclaimed. “You’re wrong! People are different. Some are lucky. Others aren’t. That’s how it works. You can’t change that. Just accept reality. Stop complaining. Life is hard. Deal with it.”
“Deal with it…?” he repeated. “No, thank you! I refuse to deal with it. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to be part of this world. It’s too cruel. Too harsh. I want to escape from it. From everything and everybody. I want to run away. Far, far away. Where nobody can find me. I want to disappear completely. Forever.”
“Where would you go?” my mother asked. “If you had the chance to leave everything behind? Where would you hide?”
“Anywhere,” he answered. “As long as there was no one around to stop me. And especially not you. Or your husband. Because you’re both so boring. So unpleasant. I hate you both.”
“Hate us?” my mother asked. “Why would you say something like that? Are you crazy?”
“I’m not crazy,” he insisted. “Just plain old normal. As ordinary as they come. Nothing special about me at all. Only someone who’s truly extraordinary could hate you. Someone like you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” my mother said. “You’re being silly. What kind of person do you think I am? Do you really believe I’d want to hurt you? After all these years together?”
“You might not mean to,” he argued. “But you do. Every day. All the time. You’ve been hurting me for a very long time now. Ever since I met you. Since I married into your family. But that’s okay. I deserve it. For marrying beneath me.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” my mother said. “You didn’t marry beneath me. You married above me. Above everyone else. I’m proud of you. Of our marriage. Proud to be your wife. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.”
“Love…?” he repeated. “What does love have to do with it? Love is an illusion. An invention of the mind. A myth created by poets and writers to make us feel better about ourselves. It’s nothing but a fairy tale. Something that exists only in books and movies.
In songs and poems. It has nothing to do with real life. At least not mine. Real life is cold and dark. Full of suffering and pain. Painful and lonely. I can’t stand it anymore. This is the last straw. I’m leaving. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”
He turned his back on them and walked off toward the sea. He stopped when he reached the water’s edge, looked out over the ocean, then began to walk again.
The End