A Villa at the Sea

A knock. Three, actually, quick and short. The first had been brutal, but the next two even more so, and the young lovers in the summer house agreed that the pounding should have broken down the door by now, maybe even the wall.

They had come here to vacation, to escape all the schoolwork and stress that was rampant at university. Their origin story had always seemed just as inconsequential to themselves as it did to their friends and families. They had simply met in a class they had taken together and quickly taken a liking to each other. There had been no waiting, as they both felt that hesitation was unnecessary and therefore wasteful, so only a few weeks had gone by when they decided to be together. Nobody asked; they were just talking one day after class and came to the conclusion that their lives would be mutually improved in each other’s company.

Their relationship had been smooth. They met for coffee, then drinks, then sunsets, and only three days before this trip they had taken a blanket and some coffee and gone to the sea. All those developments had come matter-of-factly, too, so that when they finally sat on the sand that night they decided they needed a trip. They both loved the sea, of course, and they found themselves discussing an excursion to the shore that they might take that same weekend.

The one, Dale, had rich parents who paid for all things and owned a villa exactly where the other, Sarah, had suggested they go. So they found themselves there on a Friday afternoon, and they had spent that night and the next two days lounging their time away, letting go all the tenseness of which they knew how to rid themselves. By Sunday night they were exhausted, but free, and as they retired to the villa after the longest beach day yet, Sarah said, “what a time! I think this weekend has been everything I dreamed of and more,” which made Dale wonder, “has it been the water in the ocean or in the master bathroom tub?” but he only said, “me too.” Dale was a little shy and awkward and preferred to leave things to fate rather than challenge them himself. In fact, this whole whatever it was had fallen in his lap more than anything, that is unless it did not fall but was pushed there by Sarah.

They agreed on routines: shower, meal, and then TV on the living room couch. Things like this worked for them. Of course, Sarah liked Dale, but she also liked the water pressure in the shower, the gourmet food, and the unlimited cable access. Dale, on the other hand, might have liked to eat while laughing with her, or watch TV with his arm around her, but he lacked not the courage but the will to try any of those things, so he just showered and ate and watched side by side but not too close. Strange that they had already kissed so many times but he still felt unsure about where to put his arm. After all, she had decided when it was time for coffee to turn into drinks or for drinks to turn into sunsets, and Dale could not have liked it better another way.

Now there were knocks, and shaking, and of course, a healthy mix of confusion and fear. They had kept to themselves so far, and made no friends, so nobody was expected. Neither had many friends back home, either. They were students, so they knew other people, and even did things with them sometimes, but they weren’t particularly close with anyone. The time or space had just never arrived for that kind of thing. 

Then why was there knocking? And why so loud? “Maybe it’s the neighbors,” Sarah said, and Dale agreed and added for good measure, “or somebody else we’ve forgotten about.” So Sarah went to the door, let her hand touch the doorknob, but dared not turn it, and asked who it was.

Not a sound, and after a medium pause, still nothing, so Sarah looked back at Dale, but he only offered a shrug, so she closed the door and sat back down. They kept watching in silence, Dale sometimes looking over at Sarah, trying to find something of value in her eyes, but she always turned to look at him before he could, and that made him feel like a sinner for doing it, so they would both just readjust their vision until he did it again. The same could not be said for Sarah in the face of Dale’s parents’ fifty-inch flatscreen, and the only thing Dale could ever catch in her eye was the glint of the TV, which looked even duller to him in its reflection there.

One knock this time. It was even louder and more powerful, though, as if to say that the knocker had saved up strength for it. Sarah pounced this time and ran to the window, forgetting her voice and deciding to look instead. She didn’t even bother raising the curtain, just slipping her head in front of it to peer through the glass. Still, nothing, just dark, and that was nothing for all she cared. 

Even Dale was now caught with curiosity and jumped to the door as well. They thought about it for a moment, weighing their options, until they put their hands together (Dale didn’t have to think about that one) and turned it quickly before they could regret anything.

The moment the door was open Dale was on the ground. He was averagely strong, and something was on top of him, but it was moving too quickly to identify, so he just struggled against it as hard as he could. Sarah was shocked at first but soon placed herself on top of the thing and thrashed at it as well, sandwiching their attacker in blows. As she fought she wondered how she had not seen the thing, but that query was soon pushed back by the much more imminent danger. The beast was groaning, and it was not human, but it seemed to handle pain like one, and it stood. They still could not identify it in the thick of things, and together they fled to the master bedroom.

They lay together for those few minutes, and of course they were still afraid, of course the thing was coming, but what was there to do? 

She turned and put her hand on his chest and said, “I’m so sorry, Dale, I did not see it in the dark.” He put his hand on hers and said, calmly, accepting the flow of things as was his way, and said, “it’s alright.” But he suddenly felt not the courage nor the will but the duty to say, “Sarah, you see nothing but the brightest lights anymore. You look out a window and you check for bright lights, for distractions, for anything that won’t be there. You sit on the couch and you expect me to forget you as you do me and just focus on the news. You choose everything! You look at me and see nothing but a companion, a person to drink coffee and alcohol with, a hand to hold at the beach, a villa at the sea. I might be all those things, but I am more, and you cannot see it. Not everything glitters like gold.” He regretted saying all that as he heard her crying, so he just leaned closer to her and lay quietly.

They heard knocking again, but they didn’t care anymore. This was better than fighting a beast, this was fighting ignorance, and they stayed like that, whispering and hoping and asking and answering, and by the time this door seemed ready to break also, they were loving too. Dale was dark in the light, almost invisible, but she felt him, she knew him to be more real than anything until now. Strange how they had misunderstood each other for so long.