It’s tranquil here, isn’t it?”
The waves lap at the shoreline, shifting smaller shingle particles into hollows.
A clear blue sky with a slight haze hovering just above the surface of the undulating water. A beautiful sunny day is approaching.
I take off my socks, turn up my jeans and bury my toes into the damp sand, pebbles digging into my denimed bottom. And exhale.
I look along the beach. Robert has sauntered off alone, hands buried deep in pockets, face down scanning for shells and seaweed. Lost in his thoughts as usual.
Good. Let him.
Oh yes, it’s tranquil here, alright. And this is the weekend away that’s needed. A reset.
A small boat pootles and tracks across the scene, right to left. I wish I could board that boat. Or a plane. Perhaps a sea eagle will swoop down, gather me up in its talons and carry me away. Not violently, of course – I’m not a salmon. More Gandalf with a just cause. Maybe I’ll return wearing an aura of white after such a long, grey fellowship of the ring.
Tranquil, yes.
Bugger that. My mind is a waltzer with no option to get off. There’s loud screaming, and the ride is getting faster. Loud music, flashing lights and men casually spin me round with fags hanging out of their traps.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
He’s boring. He wears crap knitwear and looks like a Damart catalogue man. Like his mother has dressed him.
God, he’s bland.
Missionary position, roast dinners, Only Connect.
I’m leaving him. Wanted to do it for years. I want to travel, eat unidentifiable foods, laugh till a little wee is released, and have intercourse where I actually…you know.
The kids. They’re boring too. Settled adults. Cardboard cut-outs of their dad. They’ll be alright.
I wish I could be calm, content and fulfilled. I need a semipermeable membrane, an osmosis process to absorb the tranquil outside space and level out the brain carnage. But, a shift has most definitely arrived, the universe shenanigans and alignment blah.
How can I make this his fault? He’ll not have strayed, he’s way too predictable – although it’s always the quiet ones you want to watch.
I get up abruptly, sand and stones scattering from my ankles and feet. I begin marching in the completely opposite direction to him.
And I don’t want to stop.
