Riptide

The lighthouse plunges into darkness. Nell’s hands shake as she lights up a match, the better to see the gun with.

A clap of thunder. She watches as the flame falls to the ground before that, too, goes out.

A bolt of lightning ignites the night sky, and she uses that, along with her hands and her minds’ eye to light another match.

She lights the emergency candles that are available for this very occasion. It is not unusual for a particularly bad storm to cause blackouts out here by the South China Sea. The wind makes a terrible howling wail as it rattles the windows and moves through this old house.

By the candlelight, Nell loads her handgun, the barrel clicking into place with a guttural satisfaction. She turns to view the door leading up to this loft room, the bedroom. She waits.

‘Woah, isn’t this place beautiful?’ Nell breathes as they get closer and closer in their longboat. The light house is surrounded by various ancient Vietnamese rocks, on its own little island. It’s peak is high in the sky, and Nell feels a thrill of excitement as she thinks about how the lighthouse was used many years before when passenger and cargo ships would travel in and out of these parts.

‘I can’t believe this is our home for the weekend.’

‘Yeah, it’s magnificent,’ Ryan says, as he puts a possessive arm around his wife and pulls her closer into his chest. Nell feels the cotton of his shirt against her cheek, and smells the Downy fabric softener she used to wash it with. Their cases lie at their feet, their guide slowly navigating the boat through the rocks to get to the lighthouse. ‘Well done for finding this place, babe. And all on your own too. Usually, it’s me who books the trips.’

Nell smiles up at him, the most serene one she can muster. It is just like her husband to be oh so incredibly condescending. As the boat hits the shore she gazes at her wedding and engagement bands and wonders at exactly what moment she will be taking them off for good.

‘Seven years,’ Ryan says, taking her hand in his. So he saw her gazing at her rings. He holds her palm with such genuine warmth that if Nell hadn’t have seen him with Freya with her own eyes, she might doubt what she knows.

Nell watches from the window as their guide paddles away back to the mainland. She can see the distance is swimmable for most people, as long as the conditions are calm and peaceful as they are now. Unfortunately, it isn’t going to be for them.

‘And that’s him gone for the night then?’ Ryan asks, joining Nell by the window. ‘And not back until the morning?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Nell says. ‘Our dinner is in the fridge and we just have to heat it. They’ll restock everything tomorrow.’ 

‘Fantastic,’ Ryan says, as he opens up the fridge and peruses tonight’s meal. It is beef pho as the main, spring rolls as a starter and Thai mango sticky rice for dessert. ‘Oh wow. All my favourites. Did you arrange this especially?’

Nell smiles. Of course she has. It’s his last supper after all. She wants to make sure he at least has a good meal. She isn’t a monster.

Nell dumps their empty bowls and plates in the sink, to be left for the cleaning staff who will come in the morning. The radio is on. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she hears the entrance bars to their wedding song. ‘Riptide.’ She almost laughs. She has almost never heard this song out in the wild since they had it for their first dance, and now here it is being played, during what will surely be the conversation that will serve as the final demise of her role as a wife.

She turns to her husband.

I was scared of dentists and the dark.

‘Our song,’ he says. His gaze ignites something in her, something she thought was dead. Why does the ending have to be so painful?

‘Do you want to tell me who Freya is?’ She asks, gazing at him. She tries her best to make her face impartial, even though she feels a familiar stirring of rage rising inside of her. Good. She needs her anger.

‘Freya? She’s a work colleague. You know that,’ Ryan says, returning her gaze. He takes a drink of his wine glass, and it is clear from the way he then turns away that he is dismissing this conversation.

And they come unstuck.

Lady, running down to the riptide.

‘What else is she?’ Nell asks.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What else is she?’

I love you,

When you’re singing that song.

‘Nell, seriously. It’s our seventh wedding anniversary. I am married to you. I am thinking of starting a family with you. Just what exactly are you suggesting here?’

‘I know you’ve been seeing her behind my back. I saw your text messages. I followed you to the MRT. I saw you meet her for dinner.’

‘What? You’re crazy! I never met up with Freya. What messages? I never sent her any messages. You’re off your head.’

‘I read the messages, Ryan. I know you’ve been seeing her for months.’

Ryan looks at her, expressionless.

Lady, running down to the riptide

Taking away to the dark side

‘The messages were on your Facebook account. I saw them. What do you have to say? Are you going to deny it?’

I just wanna, I just wanna know

If you’re going to stay

Ryan takes a deep breath.

‘Okay, Nell. It’s time for the truth. You’re right. I lied to you. I have been seeing Freya. But really, she’s just a friend. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything at all. It’s just a distraction. Some escapism. That’s all.’

‘A distraction? You call destroying our marriage a distraction? You call meeting up with her two days after I miscarried our son a fucking distraction?’

Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you’ve ever seen!

‘If you want me to be honest, then yes. I was as upset as you were. And this doesn’t have to be the end of our marriage if you don’t let it be.’

I love you, when you’re singing that song.

‘What?’

‘I don’t think monogamy works for me. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you. It doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be married to you.’

Nell’s head was reeling. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Do you listen to yourself? On what planet is what you’re saying reasonable?’

You’re going to sing the words wrong.

The song peters out and is replaced by an advertisement in Vietnamese.

‘I’m suggesting we have an open marriage. Lots of people do it. It could work. You can go see whoever you want.’

‘But this is the thing, Ryan. I don’t want to see anyone else. I just wanted you! How could you wait until seven years into our marriage and fifteen years into our relationship before telling me you want an open one? And don’t you think you should have discussed this with me before you went ahead and did it?’

‘I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know until I met Freya that I didn’t want a monogamous relationship. I don’t want monogamy, but I do want you.’

Nell puts her head in her hands, as the storm picks up pace around them, matching her mood. This isn’t what she was expecting at all. She thought Ryan would deny, deny, deny it before having no choice but to confess when presented with unarguable evidence. She never imagined he suddenly ascribed to the free love movement. How has her husband changed so much right under her nose without her realising it? 

‘Nell? This really isn’t the way I wanted to tell you.’

‘I slept with someone else too. Your boss. Matty.’

‘What?’ Ryan says. He looks so shocked. ‘With … with Matty?’

‘Yeah. But I feel safe telling you now, since you’re fine with both of us sleeping with whoever we want.’

‘But - but, Matty? Nell that guy is an arsehole. You know how he is. This is - this is humiliating! How could you do this to me!’

Nell has her answer. ‘How do you think I feel with how things are with you and Freya? You don’t like it, do you? You are full of shit, Ryan. You just want your cake and eat it. You really think you can manipulate me so easily? You think you can convince me what you want to do is somehow normal?’

‘Okay. Okay,’ Ryan says, as though gathering his thoughts. ‘Okay.’

‘It’s not okay. It’s really fucking not. I cannot be married to someone like you. You see, I don’t want you, but I don’t want Freya having you either.’

Ryan puts his hands up. ‘Whatever you want Nell. You want me to break up with her, I will. I will do whatever it is you want.’

‘We’re not getting off this island, Ryan. We’re not. We’re not going anywhere.’

‘No,’ Ryan says. ‘No. We’ll stay here as planned and figure all this out.’

Nell laughs. ‘That isn’t what I mean. What I mean is, we’re never leaving here. We are never getting off this island. Not alive, anyway.’

‘What do you mean?’ Ryan replies.

‘I mean, we’re going to die tonight.’

The power goes out.

‘Nell, you’re scaring me.’

‘Good. That’s the idea.’

‘I know you’re angry, but don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far?’

‘No, I don’t. You promised me for better or worse, Ryan. You promised me you would forsake all others. Don’t you remember? It’s till death do us part.’

‘Don’t make me hurt you, Nell.’

‘You already did.’

She knows before he does it that he is about to lunge at her. She dives out of the way before she hears him move, and knows, with satisfaction, that Ryan has fallen from the sound of him going down on the floor. She hears a crack in the dark and his shriek as she runs up the stairs to the loft bedroom.

Her case is on the floor by the bed, but she can only see a faint outline of it through the blackness. The moon outside and the lights of passing boats provides a weak light in the otherwise darkness.

Nell takes her gun from her pocket.

Ryan stands up from his position on the cold kitchen floor. He is pretty sure he has sprained his ankle, and badly. It is dark, but he can see well enough from the boats out the window and the moonlight that Nell has fled to go to another room.

He shakes his ankle out, and it throbs in protest. A feeling of horrible sickness comes over him. Is he going to lose Nell? He knows she can be vindictive when she wants to be. She is also incredibly dramatic. But she is a tiny little woman and he is at least a foot taller and about twice as wide. He isn’t physically worried.

‘Nell?’ He calls. ‘Come on. Let’s talk about this.’

He approaches the steps, and drags himself painfully up them. ‘Nell?’

He opens the door.

Nell takes aim at the bedroom door. Her husband comes through it, and she shoots her gun.

‘What the -!’ Ryan screeches, holding his hands up to his face. There is a noise of metal against metal as the bullet grazes Ryan’s wedding ring and is deflected onto the floor.

Nell watches in disbelief as Ryan lowers his hands, unharmed. A loud guffaw escapes him as he realises Nell tried to shoot him, but that he somehow survived it.

‘Do you know what?’ Nell asks him, as she approaches him. ‘It’s better this way.’

She places the gun in his hand and holds it up to her chin. She pulls the trigger so fast, Ryan has no time to respond.

‘No!’ He screams.

Ryan raids the kitchen. The emergency phone isn’t working - it’s dead, as dead as Nell upstairs - but there has to be something here he can use. Surely there has to be some way to communicate with the mainland about what’s happened.

Bingo. He’s found it. A flare to be used for emergencies. Well, this was an emergency if he ever knew one.

He needs matches. He remembers the candles burning upstairs. He doesn’t want to step over Nell’s body to get them, but he has to.

Trying not to look at his dead wife, Ryan extracts the matches he needs and hobbles back downstairs.

He steps outside the lighthouse. The storm is raging all around him. The boats he thought were so close have retreated far into the distance. The spray from a frighteningly large wave that just hit the farthest point of the tiny island hits him like an icy finger down his back.

He places the flare down in between the rocks, strikes a match and watches as it rises into the sky, exploding in a red burst far above him. He hopes against hope that someone from the mainland sees it and comes out to rescue him, even though he knows the waters are treacherous. The beach is almost completely concealed behind the mist and rain that covers it.

It is freezing out here on the island, and Ryan begins to shiver uncontrollably. The sight of the rolling waves makes his stomach churn. He goes back inside and waits, and tries not to think about the body upstairs.

Knock knock. Knock knock. There is someone pounding on the door. 

Ryan stirs awake. Someone is here. Someone is here to save him!

Two men burst into the lighthouse, followed swiftly by another. Ryan can see at once that they are police officers.

The storm outside has abated, but it is still somewhat dark. Daybreak is on the horizon.

As one of the men ask him where his wife is, it occurs to Ryan for the first time that his situation doesn’t look good. After all, it was his hand on the gun.

He explains as best he can, but he can see the police don’t believe him.

‘We’re going to have to take you to the station,’ the biggest one says, as he claps a hand on his shoulder.

Ryan can almost hear his wife’s laughter.