Washed Up

Washed Up

Her legs felt like jelly as they carried her down to the shore. She felt so numb inside, like someone had scooped out her soul leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Why did the sun have to feel so warm on her skin? Why did the sky have to be so pure and clear like a bright blue quilt? She could hear the people around her, the joyful squeals of children mingling with the cries of the gulls, a dog barking, a car boot slammed shut as a family prepared for a picnic under the bright warm sun. She could see a couple holding hands, a boy threw a bright yellow tennis ball to his dog, gulls circled like sharks as the tiny, winged pirates besieged a family struggling to finish their fish and chips.

Why did her body carry her here of all places? Why did she have to listen to the joyful cries of the people around her? Why couldn’t her ears be as numb as her heart? It seemed so cruel, for the rest of the world to be so full of joy as her own private world was falling apart. She felt the cool cardboard under her arm, and she realised she was still carrying the family photo album. Why did she still have the stupid thing? That question was easy to answer, she was holding it when she got the phone call and she had forgotten to put it down.

Listen, this isn’t easy for me…I’m not coming home Elaine, there’s someone else…

“Not easy,” she mumbled under her breathe. “Living with you for twenty-five years wasn’t easy,”

She wiggled her toes, feeling the rough, hot sand under her feet. James always hated the sea, the cry of the gulls, the burning sand and the blazing sun, he always behaved like God had created all of these things just to upset him personally, James preferred to spend his time in art museums and coffee shops. But that was James for you, he always seemed to hate everything that brought her any kind of joy.

“Go to the beach if you want,” he sneered more than once. “I’m not going to stop you,”

She had read the unspoken threat in his voice, she knew James all too well. He told her she could come to the beach any time she wanted – but she would be coming alone. But even if she came alone he would always make her pay for it later, even if it was just a snide remark.

“Did you have fun?” followed with a frustrated mumble. “I thought you outgrew the beach years ago.” Her cheeks were hot with humiliation.

Was he right all along? Was the beach really for kids? How many other loners could she see here? She was the only one, most of the adults here were with their children. She used to come here to write, the sea had always been a source of inspiration for her. The powerful waves crashing on the rock-pools, the mischievous gulls, the foam of the waves like the rabid mouth of some kind of deep-sea monster…

James never wanted to talk about her writing, when he did he called it her “little hobby,”

What would he know? She thought bitterly. He never felt the rush, the high of inspiration, the kind of passion that could lead her on a wild adventure that left you bashing on your keyboard well into the night.

But I miss him so much, she felt her heart tear in two. It was easy to focus on his flaws when she was so angry at him, but she couldn’t ignore one little thought that buzzed around her mind like a fly.

What did I do wrong? Why did he have to leave? Didn’t I try hard enough? She tried so hard to make their marriage work. The house was always immaculately tidy, every piece of furniture met his approval before they came into the house. She rebelled once and took in a lamp of her mother’s that had needed a good home, an old thing he had called a hideous eyesore more than once, it lasted a week before she caved into and gave it to a charity shop, sending it out into the world, hopefully to find a better home. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she tried to stop them but they kept coming. James always hated it when she cried in public.

I’m so stupid, James is right, I shouldn’t cry like this in public, not in front of all these people. I’m not eight years old anymore. She swallowed back tears, if she was going to bawl like this she should duck into the toilets or something where no one could see her. She always did her crying in the bathroom at home where James couldn’t see her and tell her how stupid she was being.

She turned to walk back up to the grass where she could look for the toilets, when she felt something cool and metallic under her feet. She bent down to pick it up and realised what it was the moment it was in her hands. It was a tarnished silver photo frame, the glass was missing and there were pocket marks along the edge of the frame, little dents that might have once held glass beads or stones. She didn’t have many photo frames at home, most of her precious memories were in the big thick photo album in her arms, the album that she flipped through every night, wondering where her life had gone.

.

“Smile for the camera!” James would say brightly before they plastered on their happy smiles. But the photos were always staged and the occupants were posed, photos were supposed to represent the most important moments in your life, but they never really showed life the way those moment were really lived. She wondered what would her photos would show if the pictures showed what really happened, if they exposed those moments for what they really were

.

She sat down and turned the cover. The first photo showed them side by side, the happily married couple. She wanted to travel first, to see more of the world, but James has insisted on getting married as quickly as possible. It had seemed so romantic at the time, but now all she could feel was disappointed.

The next photo showed her laying in a hospital bed, James by her side and her arms around little baby Ethan. Her smile was genuine but his wasn’t, he had hoped for a girl. The photo showed the joy of new life, but what the photo didn’t show was the look of disappointment on James’s face at every birthday as he imagined the daughter he wanted. The photo didn’t show the arguments they had as James tries to pressure her into having more children.

“My body isn’t just some storage locker you can rent and use whenever you want!” She screamed at him more than once. She caught him trying to hide her birth control pills more times than she could count, not that they saw much action in the bedroom any more.

“So when are you going to lose the baby weight?” he said it with a laugh like it was supposed to be a joke, but his comments had hurt. She blinked back tears as he turned back to his magazine, there was an advertisement for ice-cream and his eyes lingered on the bikini model a little longer than she was comfortable with. She slept in the spare bedroom after that, she couldn’t stand his roaming hands and the way he pushed her for sex.

“Come on Elaine, just this one time,”

She wanted to make him happy, but she couldn’t stand his sweaty body on top of her, his mind clearly on the bikini model instead of the lumpy woman beneath him. She blinked back tears, why couldn’t she just get off her arse? Lose the baby weight and fuck him like the porn star he wanted, ignoring the glazed expression on his face as he was clearly imagining someone else. If only she had tried harder, maybe he would still be with her if she did.

‘Look at me,” she mumbled as the tears began to flow again. “I’m a fucking mess, no wonder he left me,”

She wished she could have kept working, too. It had been one long argument with James until she eventually surrendered just to shut him up.

“Just a secretary? It’s not like you’re doing anything important? Who fucking cares, I know it’s not open heart surgery but I fucking loved it!’ she screamed her rage into the sea.

The next photo showed Ethan in a graduation cap, showing off his degree in computer science. Her own smile was as bright as her son’s while James’s eyes were as glossy as the paper it was printed on. James had tried to force him into law so he could be one more link in the proud Curtis family tradition, but Ethan had resisted. Pride swelled in her heart when she saw how head-strong her son was, a young man who was determined to dance to the beat of his own drum.

The next photo was her most recent birthday, the picture reflected the strained smiles on her family members. James was in a bad mood because she has insisted on a family barbeque instead of a fancy restaurant somewhere. His family spent the whole afternoon glaring at him, the tension between them was thick and heavy like one of her sister’s home made quilts. Disaster struck when he realised she had forgotten to by paper napkins.

“Really Elaine, can’t you do anything right?” he snapped. She tried to cry as her mother pulled her aside.

“Are you sure you’ve made the right choice here, Elaine?”

Unfortunately James had heard her.

“You’ve had it out for me since day one!” James snapped. “You’ve never given me a chance.” It was the last time she invited her family over, she just couldn’t handle the tension and the fighting anymore.

She turned the photo frame over in her hands as she thought about her pictures. She was surprised to realise that if she threw out every photo she had of James, she might as well throw out the entire album. Her pictures were supposed to be a record of her life, but every single one seemed to revolve around James and what he wanted. Behind every happy smile lay tension and misery, even when she was happy, at the back of her mind she worried about James and what he wanted, what was going to make him happy. If she didn’t make him happy, he would just come after her and nag her anyway. When was the last time she was truly happy? She couldn’t remember, was she really this miserable for their entire marriage? Was he really this unhappy the past twenty-five years? She put so much work into their relationship and she felt her heart tear as she realised she was never going to get any of it back. James was always going to make her work for his attention.

‘Twenty-five years!” she screamed into the sea and the ocean roared in response. “Twenty-five years I’ve wasted my life on this bastard!” Ethan was the only good thing to come out of their marriage, but she could have achieved the same thing through a sperm donor or a one-night stand.

She couldn’t help but dwell on all the time she had wasted on James, all the nights she worked to try and turn herself into the perfect woman for him while he was out chasing women twenty years younger than him. Every memory and photograph revolved around James.

When all my memories revolve around him, what do I have left for myself? I’ve wasted so much time on him, time I could have spent on something else. He wasn’t too bad when they first met, but little by little he had worn her down the way the ocean waved crashed against the rock, slowly grinding them until they were nothing but sand.

But was it really too late for her? She was only forty-five, there was still time for her to get out and make some new memories, to create a new album where the smile wouldn’t be strained, and the eyes wouldn’t be so glossy. She looked at the washed-up frame. It was scratched and dented in places, but all the more beautiful for it, the marks were the marks of something that had been placed and lived an exciting life, it had more character than the new shiny frames they sold in the gift shop. Someone had thrown it away but only because they couldn’t see its true beauty.

Like the frame, she might not be as smooth and shiny as she used to be, but her life was all the richer for her tiny flaws and imperfection. So what if James had left her to chase the younger women with their clear smooth skin and pearly white smiles? If he chose to throw her away because he couldn’t appreciate her, then good for him. He was one piece of rubbish she would be glad to throw away. The salty sea breeze played with her hair and she took a moment to enjoy the sensation. For the first time in twenty years she felt free. She was like the sea itself, free and playful and a force to be reckoned with. The sea had always given her the gift of inspiration but today she realised that the sea had given her so much more. With the photo-frame the sea had given her hope and the strength for her to take control of her own life.

She took off her wedding ring and looked at the smooth gold band. If the photo frame represented her hope, then what was the ring?  When she looked at the ring all she could think of James, this ring was what shackled her to him like a slave, trapped in a miserable marriage. However, to somebody else it could represent something else, a widower might remember a long, happy marriage, a young couple might think of hope for their own future. The ring was nothing but a burden to her but might bring hope to someone else. She drew back her arm and threw the ring as far as she could, so the tide could give the gift of hope to another sorrowful soul. The ring disappeared into the water with a wet plop and she felt like a weight had been lifted.

She picked up her album and made her way back up to the grass to the nearest rubbish bin. Her hands hovered over the hole that would devour all of her memories of James. She looked at the old, worn cover, did she really want to throw them out? No, besides her photos of Ethan, the album was a reminder of where she had been, the little nicks and scratches on her soul. It would be a reminder of how she had lost herself and reminder to never lose herself like that again. She would keep it somewhere secret, somewhere hidden. Any new photos would go in a new album.

It was time to start a new life.