Snow on the Beach
Tom Freed
The dark, empty Amish road winds ahead. A mission of forgetting. A frozen heart. A frozen night, a frozen weekend to become a frozen extended weekend. My window is down regardless of the cold outside — chain smoking is a mission requirement.
❄ ❄ ❄
This road has taken me to my second home many times. I’ve travelled it by myself before, but never with such a solitary destination. For the first time, I’ll visit South Bethany not to enjoy my family’s company or to try and drink my friends under the table.
❄ ❄ ❄
I have to be alone (mission protocol), and this is the only place where no one can find me.
❄ ❄ ❄
I feel her ghost, and reach to the passenger seat. My hand grabs for her thigh but receives emptiness.
❄ ❄ ❄
She made long drives so tolerable. Forget tolerable, she made them fun. Four hours would flash by so fast that we’d become disoriented. Her hate for cigarettes was fine — her presence provided an immunity to my tobacco dependency.
❄ ❄ ❄
She’d put her gentle bare feet upon the dash. It was beautiful. Would I never see something so beautiful again?
❄ ❄ ❄
These four hours will feel like four hours.
❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄
The umpteenth cigarette lets out a satisfying hiss as I drop it into my Deer Park ashtray. Arrive. Adjust the thermostat. Take a shot. Walk to the beach and say hello to the sea. Our old routine remains — the shame of drinking alone is put on hold.
❄ ❄ ❄
The stones of road beneath my feet turn to grains of sand, which might as well be grains of ice. I wonder if my cold blood would notice if I removed my shoes?
❄ ❄ ❄
The ocean welcomes me with the same song as always. There’s no remorse in its voice. No patronage. It comforts me by offering no comfort. This is my counselor. The friend that I drove miles to see.
❄ ❄ ❄
The apparition returns and takes me to a cloudless, moonless, warm August night. A perfect stage for the fireballs of the Perseids burning across the heavens. Hours of laughing, of “oh”-ing and “ah”-ing. Wine and kisses on a blanket of love.
❄ ❄ ❄
It was beautiful. Would I never see something so beautiful again?
❄ ❄ ❄
Frostbite creeps from the icy sand and into my back. Overcast clouds hide in darkness above. An imperfect, moonless, cold January night.
❄ ❄ ❄
The only kisses come from Marlboro Lights.
❄ ❄ ❄
It’s too cold to lay here anymore.
❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄
The morning sun sneaks between the panels of the living room’s vertical blinds. My tequila-induced haze is rendered tolerable with coffee and a blunt. “I don’t know why I drank so much,” but, of course, I knew.
❄ ❄ ❄
Get outside; go somewhere.
❄ ❄ ❄
Cowering behind the steering wheel from an incoming flood, a flood not of cloud-born precipitation, I drive the coastal highway. Along the straight tract of road, a slideshow of memories and landmarks stare back at me with the looks of inconsolable guests at a funeral.
❄ ❄ ❄
Carousel Resort. Our first vacation. The “L” word was first uttered here. Another perfect night, her wearing my sweatshirt and tucked under my shoulder while we sat on a vacant lifeguard stand. There was a wedding on the beach the next day — we watched it together and both made broken promises.
❄ ❄ ❄
It was beautiful. Would I never see something so beautiful again?
❄ ❄ ❄
A sign reads “Assawoman Bay.” It’s low-hanging fruit — countless puns were made at the expense of that name and the patch of thickness on the rear of her otherwise petite body.
❄ ❄ ❄
Far removed from the classiness of the Carousel, the Spindrift Motel was just the right place to introduce her to the wonders of smokin’ the sweet leaf. She spun a single braid down her long, dirty-blonde hair and added three beads of red, yellow and green. I loved that.
❄ ❄ ❄
It was beautiful. Would I never see something so beautiful again?
❄ ❄ ❄
The levees of my eyelids crumble. They weren’t built to withstand the cat-5 storm that I’ve driven into.
❄ ❄ ❄
The pier where we parked our rented moped and had a photo shoot. Hot babe on a not-so-hot bike.
❄ ❄ ❄
Could I even survive the sight of the Sun Tan? Low rates and prime location made it our go-to OC motel. Perfect for people-watching while standing on the cheap Astroturf of its party balcony, or for watching movies on a laptop, or for one special instance of criminal activity.
❄ ❄ ❄
On foot, we spotted a street sign at 2nd and Dolphin, sitting on the ground next to its post. It was one of many moments of telepathy: “Let’s take it!” Without wasting a second, we hustled a block and a half to the Sun Tan and got in my speedy Volkswagen (handy if a police chase ensued from our heist). She hopped out and grabbed it as I put the seat up. With the sign in the back seat, I pushed the seat back down for her, and we made a hasty getaway. It was pinpoint, flawless execution. Bonnie and Clyde. That sign still hangs with pride in my bedroom, one of the few mementos that wasn’t trashed or burned in effigy after I got her letter.
❄ ❄ ❄
Nope. Time to turn around and seek shelter from the downpour. I just about can’t see the road.
❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
❄ ❄ ❄
Time stands still when you’re not having fun. The storm within waits for me to emerge from my haven of Orwell and doubleplusungood vices. I won’t risk leaving, except to find sustenance.
❄ ❄ ❄
The takeout counter of Grotto’s Pizza is abuzz with talk of snow showers in the coming days. For the first time this trip — for the first time in a long time — a faint glow of excitement flows through my veins. I never considered that snow could fall through this salt air.
❄ ❄ ❄
The new semester starts in two days. I need to buy books and get on a normal sleep schedule. I should probably go home. Mission failed. It was folly to begin with. There was no mission, except to get blasted by myself without the interference of disapproving family members or enthusiastic friends. An excuse to hide my weeping from any curious good intentions.
❄ ❄ ❄
The enticement of snow on the beach keeps me in place. School can wait. This could be something beautiful, something once-in-a-lifetime, and I’ll wait patiently.
❄ ❄ ❄
And it was beautiful. Would I never see something so beautiful again? I didn’t know, but I knew it was possible.
