The Seashore

As Lea stepped from the plane the heat hit her as the opening of an oven. She could not believe she was expected to walk down that long stair case, across the tarmac, into the arrival lounge, but there were a lot of things she hadn't expected. Being alone in Jamaica was one of them. Lynn was her best friend and they were supposed to have gone on this trip together. They had saved for a year, gotten tickets early at rock bottom prices. Three weeks ago Lynn met a man.

The tickets were non-refundable, non-transferable, etc. But in the unwritten law of unmarried women, nothing took priority over a marriageable man. Not money and certainly not friendship; a marriageable man superseded everything. If the tickets were refundable, transferable, if there was any way to postpone the trip, Lea would have. But there was no sense in her losing money because Lynn met a man. So here goes Lea, by herself to a land far away. Whoopie!

The line at Customs was unbelievable long and slow and Lea felt ungainly. Her bags were slipping off her arm, the stupid heels she had worn crippling, the heat, but most of all, being alone when everyone else was with someone. She tried to imagine all sorts of unattached men at the hotel, each one handsomer than the other, but had the feeling it was going to be like the 9th grade dance. Two weeks of the 9th grade dance.

That was only one of many moments when Lea got to feel the pain of loneliness in a crowd. Watching everyone swirling about the floor, wishing someone would ask her to dance, but no one asking. It was the longest three hours in the history of Earth.

She had gone to the bathroom four times, outside to smoke twice, to the punch bowl five times. She had sentences with each girl in her class before they were scooped up by their boyfriends or a hopeful. When Lea's father arrived to take her home she was grateful, but couldn't let him know. Couldn't let anyone know she had gone to a dance and no one had asked her.

As the line at Customs crawled Lea warned herself not to fill with negativity. Anything could happen. This wasn't the ninth grade. She didn't have to wait for her father's rescue. There were thousands of people in Jamaica, she must find one to talk to. There must be one man who came alone. There must. Finally escaping Customs, onto the bus sent by the hotel, her eyes searched for a man; a possible. Under forty, over twenty, unattached.

The two she saw seemed a couple. She looked out of the window. She didn't see anything. The choice was either to have lost all that money, (and having spent so much on her wardrobe she'd be set for the beach for the next ten years) or try to have a good time. She decided she was going to have a good time. The bus arrived and after confusion and discussion and lies, (Lea realised she couldn't tell them Lynn wasn't coming, only that she didn't make this flight), she reached the room, a nice double all to herself. She assumed it wouldn't last long, but she'd take what she got and enjoy it while she had it. It was afternoon, no reason not to go to the beach. Lea pulled on her pink two piece, her matching hat slathered suntan oil on her skin, grabbed the towel provided by the hotel and left her room.

She walked to the shore, couldn't find an empty chaise lounge, didn't want to squeeze in amid kids and old people, located spot somewhere private and lay on the big towel. It wasn't ten minutes when she heard a male voice, opened her eyes. Sitting beside her, offering to rub oil on her back was a very black man with dreadlocks. He was not young, handsome, in fact, he was creepy. Lea told him no. He continued to sit as if "no" was an invitation, then began speaking in the most fraudulent American accent.

It was offensive to hear him drawling in this pathetic version of a Georgia sharecropper. In a louder voice, she exclaimed: "Please Leave me Alone."

He didn't move, totally unafraid, unconcerned, then asked if she were married.

"Yes, and I'm waiting for my husband to join me, so please leave." He sat another minute, then moved on to an older woman who had planted herself about ten feet away. This one really did have a husband. When he came up the fellow moved away.

Lea marched into the sea, the current surprised for it was stronger than expected. Another man, a little better looking than the first, approached and went through the same litany. She tried to ignore him, moving away, back, turning her head, everything but scream. And that was next. Just before she did, up came another one, younger, better looking who said; "Move from here Skibo, you don't see the lady doesn't want to be harassed?" Skibo moved.