Suit & Sand

CW: Abusive relationship

It was tantalizing and cruel the way the cool breeze from outside the Solstice Shores Resort would hit William’s face every time those grand, double doors would open; a reminder of how relief was always just out of reach. Work was particularly monotonous for William today, which was funny considering his job consists of only four simple steps: 1) Stand there, 2) Smile, 3) Press buttons, 4) Repeat. How could any other day feel more tedious than the other? Well, after 12 years of working as an elevator operator, you’d be surprised. This wasn’t the life William had intended to live either. Back when William was in high school (God knows how many years ago) he would’ve pictured himself playing the saxophone in a high-brow jazz club, basking in endless applause after every number, and meeting the eyes of his beloved Anabelle in the audience each night. The closest William ever got to any sort of sophistication, though, was the suit and tie his dress code enforced by the resort. Now, William’s days of jazz are long over and Anabelle is reduced to just an ex-high school sweetheart that is a highly sensitive topic to his now wife, Helena. Some may call it a douchebag move to date your ex’s nemesis to make them jealous; William would just call that strategy (although be it a poor one since it did not work in the slightest, resulting in his now ball-and-chain commitment to Helena).

William had both a lot and very little to worry about since his days at work consisted of merely button-pressing and nights at home were spent reassuring Helena that he thought of her every second she was a way (that’s a lie; William mostly thought of sandwiches and countries he wished he traveled to in his college years). Every day resembled the one before, and the one before that, and even the one before tha- “And so I told Todd that microwaving beer was a bad idea but he didn’t listen to me so then the microw-OH SHIT! oh shit, my bad dude, you good? Yeah you’re good”. A pot-bellied man in nothing but swim trunks stumbled over his words as he apologized to William. As the sandy stranger had entered the elevator with his presumed family of four (wife and two sticky kids), he had unknowingly stumbled into an unsuspecting William, who could smell the mix of salt and sweat ruminating off of the stranger as he unpeeled his body from William’s. “It’s uh, it’s fine sir. Which, uh, floor was it?” William stuttered, wiping his hands over his suit and combing his hair with his hands as an attempt to restore his composure. The particles of sand stuck to the fibers of his light blue suit and sweaty palms, dispersing over messy hair and basically every crevice imaginable. The resort guest’s voice was uncomfortably loud and booming and he replied, “Floor 3, my lucky number actually. Did you know that Obama’s lucky number is 3 as well? That’s gotta be a good sign, right? I’m actually born on the third of May too, and so was my mother, and her mother’s mother, and so was-”...

The drive home was typically the only time of day William could find a sliver of serenity to enjoy on his lonesome. The route paralleled the ocean, the receding and ascending waves glittering in the near-setting sun. William would roll down the windows so he could smell the salty air and blast whatever was on the radio. He used to take drives like these with Anabelle a lot, though the destination would be to go to the beach. Almost all of their dates ended in a night at the beach, either filled with endless chatter or just the pleasure of sitting in silence, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. William hadn’t stepped foot on the beach since he and Anabelle had broken up; Helena had forbidden it. She knew what the beach meant to William and was paranoid at even the mention of it slipping through his lips.

The soft sound of keys shuffling elicited a “Welcome home, Will!” from Helena as William stepped through the front door. Upon entering the kitchen, he found her sitting at the counter with a mug of tea held up close to her. Setting the mug down, Helena skipped over to him to enthusiastically embrace him and plant a firm kiss on both sides of his face. She then kissed him on the mouth, so hard and so long that just as William thought he would need to inhale for air, she released him. He tried his best not to noticeably gasp as he recovered from the lack of oxygen. The way she held him often felt less loving and more possessive, the kind of grip that made someone look forward to when they would be liberated rather than lean into it. “How was work today?” She prompted their routine conversation, one she apparently never got bored of despite how predictable it was. “Well, you know, much of the same.” William responded, trying his best to plaster a content smile on his face. He often felt guilty for not loving her the way she wanted him to. Helen held herself close to William, her arms wrapped around his neck as one hand gently tussled the hair on the back of his head. She looked up at him with such emotion, William worried she could see how empty his returning stare was sometimes. He blinked a lot when he looked at her, hoping she wouldn’t think to analyze the dilation of his pupils too, in addition to every other action of his she obsessed over. Suddenly, her smile dropped as now both of her hands were now pressed up against his suit and traveling down the front and back up again to his face and oh God now her hands were in his hair and- “OUCH??!! Ah, Helena, STOP-” William pushed himself away from her to stop her prying hands from tugging, poking, and prodding him.

“WILLIAM.”

“WHAT??”

“There’s SAND all over you!”

“Uh, yeah. I know. This guy in the resort today-”

“William Bartholomew Jones I don’t care about some guy in the resort, I’m talking about the SAND!-”

“I know you’re talking about the sand, I’m trying to tell you-”

“Did you go to the beach?”

“What? Helena, how would I-”

“I SAID, DID YOU GO TO THE BEACH??”

“I’m trying to tell you I didn’t go to-”

“Oh my god, don’t you even try to lie to me William because I WILL know if you are-”

“Helena, I'm not lying to you! If you would let me just-”

“OH MY GOD, I can’t believe this! You went to the fucking beach and you KNOW what that means to me-”

“HELENA I’M TELLING YOU I DIDN’T GO TO THE-”

William couldn’t get out the last word of his sentence before Helena’s mug was hurled at his head. William’s reflexes had never been better as he ducked abruptly, the mug shattering on the wall behind his head, leaving a large dent and murky stain as the remnants of the tea trickled down and onto the floor. The fragments of the mug were scattered across the kitchen floor around William’s feet, frozen in place. Everything in the room was still, all except for the tea that continued to seep down the wall like spilled ink. William eventually stood up slowly, wide eyed and in shock as his eyes met the crazed ones of Helena, breathing heavily and staring straight back at him. The two just stood in silence, unmoving and panting as the air felt thick in their lungs. Suddenly, hot tears started streaming down Helena’s face, her expression softening, and her arms outstretched as she started to walk towards William. Backing away quickly with one arm outstretched defensively in front of him, William shook his head and let out a breathless “Don’t”.

“I just love you so much, William, I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Stop, just stop it, okay-”

“I don’t know what came over me I just-”

“Helena, that’s enough-”

“No, Will, just listen to me-”

“I want a divorce.”

William’s voice was quiet and hushed as he refused to meet her eyes. Helena finally stopped approaching him.

“... What?”

“I said”, breathed William, “I want a divorce”.

Before a defeated Helena could object any further, William walked briskly past her, shoving away her failed attempts at pulling him back. The car keys were shortly back in his hands and then he was simply gone. He didn’t know where to go or for how long, he just had to go. The answer came into focus sooner than he would’ve thought as the ocean came into view yet again. Something about it was different this time; William couldn’t peel his eyes away from the melting sun over the water and all that goddamn sand that still stuck to his skin. The shrill and sudden honking of a car horn yanked William out of his trance as he had unknowingly drifted into the lane of incoming traffic on his left. In a split second of decisiveness, William veered off sharply to the right into a parking lot adjacent to the beach.

William exited the car with the sharp slam of the driver’s side door. With motivation, he began to trudge along the sandy shore. Suit and tie, boots and all, William began to walk for who knows how long. All he knew was that there was more in front of him, so more he must see. The essence of the beach brought back a flood of memories, including ones that had been long forgotten. Waves of nostalgia, regret, contentment, and longing hit him in time with the lapping ocean at his feet. His shoes and suit would likely be ruined after this night, but that was the last thing on his mind. William had walked so far that he reached the section of beach that was lined by a boardwalk, crowded with tourists, struggling artists, and overpriced food venders. In the near distance, the rich tone of a saxophone met William’s ears, drawing his gaze away from the horizon. The tune was slow and smooth, but full of energy. The man playing it slowly came into focus as William drifted closer. He was dressed simply in just a t-shirt and jeans with the carrying case open at his feet for any cash tips a generous stranger would be willing to offer. His talent was considerable, leaving William to wonder why this musician was seeking an audience rather than having one flock to him.

Regardless, William could not waste any more time worrying. He had spent an entire marriage worrying about every little thing and his time spent away from said marriage was empty, waiting to be filled with something meaningful. This was the closest William had been to just having something again, and he was not going to take it for granted. The life of the saxophone infected William’s limbs, the tempo coursing through his bloodstream and the resonance creeping into his bones. William hadn’t danced in years. Actually, William hadn’t danced since he had been with Anabelle, probably at some high school dance or prom. But in this moment, he found himself starting to sway, dragging his feet out and around him with his arms embellishing the movement from above. The saxophone was both his partner and his muse as William continued to frolic across the sand, kicking it up and around him, before eventually stumbling and rolling across the seaside. He laid there on his back for a beat, limbs outstretched and breathing heavily, staring up into the sky of orange and pink hues. The gentle waves lapped at his hair, cool and calming against the sweat that had broken out on the back of his neck. As his breathing slowed and fell into rhythm with the still resounding saxophone, he savored the textures that surrounded him. It felt good to feel again.