To Sea

  Three weeks passed before Jon touched scotch again. This time, it was to ease his tired bones after the Brand traditional Easter hike down along the beach. The pours steadily increased ‘til the night was but a warm blur layered with dreams—and then it was morning.

  His eyes peeled back slow, sticky with sleep stuck between the lids. The sun shined over the land, making all the earth bright. While the neighbor’s house shadowed over the Brands. Jon looked over at Elea. Her body curled up in a ball. Her face, nose up, the only bit of her body showing. He could only make shadows for her eyes in the dark of morning. But he knew she was sound asleep. He slipped out of the bed, slow, not to disturb her, and he walked to the bathroom.

  “I’m naked,” he mumbled, closing the door behind him. He looked down at the stream of bright yellow urine flow into the bowl. He rubbed at his genitalia—scratching. “Did we sleep together?” he said baffled. Then he shook himself off and he washed his hands.

  The bathroom window had been opened a little more than halfway, allowing the sounds of the seascape to pour in. A scarlet cardinal flew towards the window. Then it darted to the left where a nest had been built under the drainpipe. He could hear the high pitched squeals of hunger from a single chick perched up in the nest. Jon unlatched the screen from the window. He pulled his head out, watching the red male regurgitate into his youngling’s beak—the babe pecking deep into the male’s mouth. “Sacrificing for his young,” he thought. “We can only learn from nature itself or we can’t learn anything at all.” He looked out to the small waves pushing against the shore and he sighed. “I know what is right. I need to come clean with them all. It is my duty as the man of the house. It is my will to better them all.” He looked back towards the sea as a tear ran slow to the peak of his high cheekbone. “It’s too late for me, but not for Barry.”

  Jon pulled his head in from the window and he washed his hands clean. He placed a pair of pajama pants on, threw a robe over his shoulders and he walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom encased by the banter of the Monday morning newscast.

  “You are up early, mister,” Elea said, turning the volume down. She was wrapped with a red bed sheet hugging her bare body. “Thought you’d sleep in after the workout we had last night. I haven’t felt that good in years. What did you do? Where did you learn that? And what is her name?” Elea giggled. Then she dropped the sheet down, exposing herself to her husband.

  Jon shuffled his feet nervously. “Whose name?” he said quickly. “I haven’t been seeing anyone.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not accusing you of anything. I was simply congratulating you on a job well done. Gosh, maybe that is why we haven’t had sex in so long. You are too tightly wound.” Elea crawled to the edge of the bed. She rubbed his back for a bit. Then she placed her arms around his waist. “We are just going to have to loosen up those strings one by one and fix you on up.”

  Jon’s head twitched nervously in and out of Elea’s eyes until he found himself staring out the window, looking for the sea through the sun’s sharp rays. “Elea,” he shouted. Then he paused, realizing his loud tone. “Elea,” he said more quietly. “I need to tell you something.”

  She wrapped her legs around his thighs as she kissed at his neck. “What is it, Jon,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I need to tell you about Bennie. Not Bennie. But who I was with when I told you I went for drinks with Bennie.” Jon detached Elea’s legs from his. He stepped back from the bed. “I went to see Lauren. Connors. From grade school. Remember her from the reunion? She lived on Cedar Street. Was in all of my classes. Well, I went to Jersey to see her for a few drinks. I lied to her. Told her I was in town. Fishing convention or something like that.”

  “A fishing convention in the middle of New Jersey? Seriously, Jon?”

  “We didn’t do anything. Just talked at a bar. Then I got too drunk. She drove home. Then I must’ve passed out in the car after the drive home. I lied to you, El. I’m sorry. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never cheated on you. I am sorry.”

  Elea wrapped the sheet back up over herself. She stared down at her body of red. An elderly man was crying on the television. The interviewer was consoling the worried old man.

  “Say something. Be mad. Tell me off. Hit me. Do something.” Jon stood at the base of the bed with his hands catching his face.

  “What do you want me to say? That I am mad? Because I’m not. I’m not mad at you at all. How could I be? You get all wound up over meeting an old friend over a couple of drinks and wind up telling me as if the world would end if you didn’t. Jon, the world keeps spinning whether you like it or not. It is not going to stop for you.” She paused for a moment. Then she placed her pajamas on slowly. “Jon, I’ve been seeing another man for five years. Five years I have been going out for drinks. Five years I have been sneaking off to motels. Five years I have been living my life while you have been caught up in your own world that you seem to think spins solely for you. With your head in the clouds. Your heart in the sea. Jon,” she said. “No one cares about you, or the sea. You are the only one who stares at the water all day. You are the only one who is crazy enough to devote a life to something that does not even have a life. You are old. You have a son and a wife and a family, now. You need to grow up and live life for them and not yourself. You need to open your eyes and get your head out from under the sea.”

  Jon paused. He looked into Elea’s eyes that would not blink as she now stared into the television. “But the sea—it is alive.”

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “The sea. It is alive. You said that the sea has no life. But it does. It has brought life to us. It has provided for us. It has the strength and the power to provide. And it has the strength and the power to kill. It has fed us. It has paid for this house and all we fill it with. It is alive as much as you or I—and more so. More so than that television, at least.” His face had become red with compassion. He loved the sea and he would be damned if anyone were to preach its name in vain.

  She pumped up the TV volume, looking Jon in the eyes as she crossed her legs. “You are crazy. Your blood is nearly boiling. You are insane. First off. Millions of people are watching this program right now. You going to tell me that that isn’t real? Second. The ocean is not something to be worshiped. You are toying with God and he is not pleased by your heresy. There is a church next door. I recommend you ask for whatever salvation He is willing to pity upon you before He damns you to a hell so fiery for your idolism and pagan worship of the sea. I suggest you drown your sins in holy water and save yourself quick before you lose your house, your family and your own life. May God have mercy on your soul, Jon. May God have mercy.” She stepped off the bed and she walked into the bathroom, slamming the door closed.

  Jon stood at the edge of the bed. He thought over the words Elea had delivered. He had known of her infidelity for some time. So it was not her revealing that that phased him. But it was the nonchalantlessness of it all. She seemed to not have a care in the world. Her adultery did not seem to be sin in her eyes. It all seemed as false as the imitated reality broadcasted over the television screen.

  And then Jon felt a sudden feeling of his life ending right there. The feeling of a shadow casting over his head. Over all of his body. Deepening in an encompassing black. He knew there was no time to save himself, let alone his marriage. But he knew he had to save his son. And the words she had said, “… drown yourself in holy water…” resonated in Jon’s mind. It was starting to come together. He stared out the window. The sun’s rays had risen just high enough over the neighbor’s house where the light shed about the sound. He watched the waves continually crash to the shore as if it were in slow motion. “Drown myself in holy water,” he thought. “The holy sea stands at my feet. At my doorstep. The answers lie right in my backyard. Drown
myself in the holy water and salvation shall rain on my family. Over all this earth.” Jon rubbed his eyes and the waves returned to normalcy.

  “Get the tea on,” Elea shouted through the closed door. “This way it’ll be ready for breakfast. I’ll make eggs once I’m out. Barry should be up by now, too. So don’t start anything at the table. Last thing we need is to have Barry worrying about us. He has enough stress with school on his mind.”

  Jon shook his head in agreement without her seeing his motions.

  He ran the sink water into the pot and he threw the kettle over the stove. He turned the gas up as Barry tapped his shoulder twice as a sign for good morning. Headphones hugged the boy’s ears. His eyes and his fingers glued to his phone. Jon ignored his son and the fisherman toyed with the flame ‘til it was perfected, blowing fire under the metal pot and he walked to the table.

  Elea walked in not long after. She wore a smile across her slim face. “Morning, Bar,” she said. “How are you this delightful morning? Got that biology test today, or what?”

  “Second period,” Barry said quickly, between spoonfuls of oatmeal sloppily filling his mouth. “I’m ready, though. Studied all night.” He gobbled down the rest of the oatmeal and he wiped the loose oats from the edges of his lips.

  “Good luck, Bar,” Elea said. She looked over at Jon, signaling him with her eyes to wish luck on their son.

  “Good luck, son.” Jon passed the oats in his bowl with his spoon. “Break a leg.” Jon smiled slightly and he looked at Barry for a second. Then he glanced back down at his food.

  “Want some eggs with that, Bar?”

  “No, I’m heading out now to study a bit before first bell,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

  Barry collected his bowl and his cup, placing them in the sink. He said his goodbyes and left for school.

  Elea poured oats in a bowl. She stared at them for a moment before she dumped them back into the box. She ran her fingers quick across her cell phone—giggling and smiling and then she walked back into the bedroom.

  She soon returned. But not in her pajamas—but in a pink and red floral print spring dress. “Going off shopping and to breakfast with Margie,” she said, not stopping, walking out the front door. But Jon knew it was off to the local motel. Or off to the bar. Or off to wherever it would be with her second man and not with Margie.

  Jon sat back in his chair. He pushed the cold oats from side to side. He whooshed his tea through his teeth. He watched the treetops sway with the wind blowing off the sea. An array of colored birds flew from pine to oak to brush to sand and then back up to the clouds. Jon smiled, listening to the songs of the birds in conversation blend with the ocean in a harmonizing melody. He closed his eyes and he started to hum along with the song of the earth—“…and the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”