The Seashore

Angry now, Lea stomped away, spewing invective in a loud voice about the harassment and made up her mind to speak to the Manager. She wondered if she could make a case against the Hotel and get back the money she spent on this wasted effort. The idea made her buoyant and she ate a full breakfast, then sat and considered for about an hour. To prove her point, she went back to the sea, but wasn't harassed for quite some time. No doubt her outburst had some effect. But, then, a new batch washed in. Before the first of them could get within ten feet, she left the shore, up to her room, showered, came down and asked about "tours."

The tours were not covered by her package, however $15 didn't seem much. She booked one leaving tomorrow at eight a.m. more to get away from the hotel than see anything. She amused herself with thoughts of a lawsuit which took her mind off her loneliness for stray minutes at a time. The day was about one hundred hours long. She sat on the terrace of her room facing the sea. Avoiding the Skibos and Cudjoes. A prisoner at an all inclusive hotel. Her mind circled around John. If he were one of the beach bums, wouldn't he have been there this morning making his pitch? Perhaps he was on the level. The next day she went on the tour so she could be moving around in her silence. She was returned to the hotel at 6 pm, fought her way into the restaurant, ate, then sat by the bar. "You took a tour?" John was beside her. "How did you know?" "Didn't see you," he replied, "where'd you go?"

Lea told him, making it sound far more interesting and pleasant than it had been. So hungry for company she ordered him a beer. In a bit John suggested they sit on the beach; "Put a little distance between us and the noise." The beach was right there, so she took her drink, but he led her parallel to the shore, along a narrow track. It was very dark, frightening, in moments she felt deep within a jungle. Se couldn't see anything, would have turned back but felt lost.

Images of being raped and murdered slammed through her mind, until she took that final step and was in a tree embraced clearing with a view of the sea. It was Edenic. Yet, fear made her walk from the safety of the trees towards the sea to locate the Hotel. It was not a thousand yards away. The path, having snaked through the foliage suggested miles. To hide her fear, her doubt, she became more jovial. She babbled to dispel her fears of violence, her doubt John's bona fides. Lea kept talking to prove this was a man who happened to find her attractive, not trying to use her.

It got later and later but every time she thought of going to that empty room she decided to remain on the beach. It seemed such a private, secret world, wonderfully mysterious, this little clearing in the bush. The band had stopped playing, she knew it about eleven thirty, not late. But it was so quiet and they were so alone in the clearing. Maybe it was the shooting star, the sound of the sea, or raw loneliness, but she kissed him. Then they made love. After, he led her farther from the hotel, keeping in the trees, to a hidden cove, where they could skinny dip. It was wonderful to feel the sea on her naked body. She felt beautiful for the first in her life. For the next three days she lived to see John. He had her rent a car so that she could leave the hotel each morning alone, drive a few minutes, make a turn, pick him up.

Once in the car, he'd drive to a secluded spot, they'd greet in passion, then go somewhere. Lea paid. Lea always paid. She'd return to the hotel about dusk, eat, then go up to her room until about ten. She'd come down, wander along the shore to meet John and make love on the beach, in "their" clearing. On the forth morning of her wonderful idyll, she happened to be on the other side of the hotel. The ice machine in her corridor was empty. She had walked the long silent hall way to the other machine, and just so happened to glance through a window that gave a wonderful view of the kitchen's back door. She saw John talking to Skibo and Cudjoe.

Maybe he was telling them their horoscopes or maybe he was setting them up for another scam. Most of her money was gone. But money wasn't the problem. The problem was she felt so stupid. From the moment she saw him she'd though he was part of the Cudjoe/Skibo set but given herself false proof he was not. But he was. His "rescue" appearances, his absences, the lack of initiative, (for she had made the first move), were part of the "play". The "affair" was all Lea. All Lea in her loneliness who had reached out and John had taken.

Angry, tears fought from her eyes and she stood in that corridor and cried, clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. If she had been in her room, she could turn up the T.V. and hunker down in the bathroom for a nice long cry. But she wasn't in her room. Before anyone saw her, she pushed into a bathroom, a Men's room, but any port in a storm, and washed her face. Eventually she caught control. She marched down to the manager's office to complain about the harassment. She spoke long and hard, listed the harassment; (left out John, who no doubt was waiting for her to pick him up.) Lea demanded her money back, threatened law suits. She didn't shout, she kept her voice soft, but her words were hard. The manager sought to appease her. He would have the refund ready when she returned.

Lea hastened upstairs, hadn't really unpacked, so tossed the few things in her suitcase. She looked around the room, and spat on the floor, then walked out.

She marched into the office. As the manager calculated her refund, Lea got the first whiff of success since she landed on this island.?