He mustn’t go away. If he goes now, he’ll not return.
Now. The cold coral brain drifted, drifted. Now. Calling across the hot spaces of windless air in the early afternoon. Come down to the water. Now, said the music. Now.
The woman in the black bathing suit twisted the radio dial.
“Attention!” cried the radio. “Now, today, you can buy a new car at—”
“Jesus!” The man reached over and tuned the scream down. “Must you have it so loud!”
“I like it loud,” said the woman in the black bathing suit, looking over her shoulder at the sea.
It was three o’clock. The sky was all sun.
Sweating, he stood up. “I’m going in,” he said.
“Get me a hot dog first?” she said.
“Can’t you wait until I come out?”
“Please.” She pouted.”Now.”
“Everything on it?”
“Yes, and bringthreeof them.”
“Three? God, what an appetite!” He ran off to the small cafe.
She waited until he was gone. Then she turned the radio off. She lay listening a long time. She heard nothing. She looked at the water until the glints and shatters of sun stabbed through her eyes like needles.
The sea had quieted. There was only a faint, far and fine net of ripples giving off sunlight in infinite repetition. She squinted again and again at the water, scowling.
He bounded back. “Damn, but the sand’s hot; burns my feet off!” He flung himself on the blanket. “Eat ’em up!”
She took the three hot dogs and fed quietly on one of them. When she finished it, she handed him the remaining two. “Here, you finish them. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
He swallowed the hot dogs in silence. “Next time,” he said, finishing, “don’t order more than you can use. Helluva waste.”
“Here,” she said, unscrewing a thermos, “you must be thirsty. Finish our lemonade.”
“Thanks.” He drank. Then he slapped his hands together and said, “Well, I’ll go jump in the water now.” He looked anxiously at the bright sea.
“Just one more thing,” she said, just remembering it. “Will you buy me a bottle of suntan oil? I’m all out.”
“Haven’t you some in your purse?”
“I used it all.”
“I wish you’d told me when I was up there buying the hot dogs,” he said. “But, okay.” He ran back, loping steadily.
When he was gone, she took the suntan bottle from her purse, half full, unscrewed the cap, and poured the liquid into the sand, covering it over surreptitiously, looking out at the sea, and smiling. She rose then and went down to the edge of the sea and looked out, searching the innumerable small and insignificant waves.
You can’t have him, she thought. Whoever or whatever you are, he’s mine, and you can’t have him. I don’t know what’s going on; I don’t know anything, really. All I know is we’re going on a train tonight at seven. And we won’t be here tomorrow. So you can just stay here and wait, ocean, sea, or whatever it is that’s wrong here today.
Do your damnedest; you’re no match for me, she thought. She picked up a stone and threw it at the sea.
“There!” she cried. “You.”
He was standing beside her.
“Oh?” She jumped back.
“Hey, what gives? You standing here, muttering?”‘
“Was I?” She was surprised at herself. “Where’s the suntan oil? Will you put it on my back?”
He poured a yellow twine of oil and massaged it onto her golden back. She looked out at the water from time to time, eyes sly, nodding at the water as if to say, “Look! You see? Ah-ha!” She purred like a kitten.
“There.” He gave her the bottle.
He was half into the water before she yelled.
“Where are you going! Come here!”
He turned as if she were someone he didn’t know. “For God’s sake, what’s wrong?”
“Why, you just finished your hot dogs and lemonade—you can’t go in the water now and get cramps!”
He scoffed. “Old wives’ tales.”
“Just the same, you come back up on the sand and wait an hour before you go in, do you hear? I won’t have you getting a cramp and drowning.”
“Ah,” he said, disgusted.
“Come along.” She turned, and he followed, looking back at the sea.
Three o’clock. Four.
The change came at four ten. Lying on the sand, the woman in the black suit saw it coming and relaxed. The clouds had been forming since three. Now, with a sudden rush, the fog came in from off the bay. Where it had been warm, now it was cold. A wind blew up out of nothing. Darker clouds moved in.
“It’s going to rain,” she said.
“You sound absolutely pleased,” he observed, sitting with arms folded. “Maybe our last day, and you sound pleased because it’s clouding up.”
“The weatherman,” she confided, “said there’d be thunder showers all tonight and tomorrow. It might be a good idea to leave tonight.”
“We’ll stay, just in case it clears. I want to get one more day of swimming in, anyway,” lie said. “I haven’t been in the water yet today.”
“We’ve had so much fun talking and eating, time passes.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at his hands.
The fog flailed across the sand in soft strips.
“There,” she said. “That was a raindrop on my nose!” She laughed ridiculously at it. Her eyes were bright and young again. She was almost triumphant. “Good old rain.”
“Why are you so pleased? You’re an odd duck.”
“Come on, rain!” she said. “Well, help me with these blankets. We’d better run!”
He picked up the blankets slowly, preoccupied. “Not even one last swim, dammit. I’ve a mind to take just one dive.” He smiled at her. “Only a minute!”
“No.” Her face paled. “You’ll catch cold, and I’ll have to nurse you!”
“Okay, okay.” He turned away from the sea. Gentle rain began to fall.
Marching ahead of him, she headed for the hotel. She was singing softly to herself.
“Hold on! “he said.
She halted. She did not turn. She only listened to his voice far away.
“There’s someone out in the water!” he cried. “Drowning!”
She couldn’t move. She heard his feet running.
“Wait here!” he shouted. “I’ll be right back! There’s someone there! A woman, I think!”
“Let the lifeguards get her!”
“Aren’t any! Off duty; late!” He ran down to the shore, the sea, the waves.
“Come back!” she screamed. “There’s no one out there! Don’t, oh, don’t!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back!” he called. “She’s drowning out there, see?”
The fog came in, the rain pattered down, a white flashing light raised in the waves. He ran, and the woman in the black suit ran after him, scattering beach implements behind her, crying, tears rushing from her eyes. “Don’t!” She put out her hands.
He leaped into an onrushing dark wave.
The woman in the black bathing suit waited in the rain.
At six o’clock the sun set somewhere behind black clouds. The rain rattled softly on the water, a distant drum snare.
Under the sea, a move of illuminant white.
The soft shape, the foam, the weed, the long strands of strange green hair lay in the shallows. Among the stirring glitter, deep under, was the man.
Fragile. The foam bubbled and broke. The frosted coral brain rang against a pebble with thought, as quickly lost as found. Men. Fragile. Like dolls, they break. Nothing, nothing to them. A minute under water and they’re sick and pay no attention and they vomit out and kick and then, suddenly, just lie there, doing nothing. Doing nothing at all. Strange. Disappointing, after all the days of waiting.
What to do with him now? His head lolls, his mouth opens, his eyelids loosen, his eyes stare, his skin pales. Silly man, wake up! Wake up!
The water surged about him.
The man hung limply, loosely, mouth agape.
The phosphorescence, the green hair weed withdrew.
He was released. A wave carried him back to the silent shore. Back to his wife, who was waiting for him there in the cold rain.
The rain poured over the black waters.
Distantly, under the leaden skies, from the twilight shore, a woman screamed.
Ah—the ancient dusts stirred sluggishly in the water—isn’t that like a woman? Now, she doesn’t want him, either!
At seven o’clock the rain fell thick. It was night and very cold and the hotels all along the sea had to turn on the heat.
The end
