The Encounter
Anna stared out at the sea that danced chaotically before her. Each breaking wave flailed drops of spume that lashed out basting her face in a coat of coarse salt. Momentarily airborne the angry water screamed and howled only to be reclaimed by gravity and the sucking waters that owned them by right. Hypnotized by the rhythm of the breathing sea she wondered what it would be like to walk straight into the bubbling caldron. The first icy impact would probably feel like a car hitting you. Then with any luck you would succumb to numbness much like the aftermath of a Novocain shot administered in a dentist’s chair. Once anesthetized it would be easy to find the resolve necessary to surmount the tidal force driving you back to land and sand and wade ever deeper into the slumbering arms of the sea. What a romantic end of life. Hadn’t she seen this in a movie once, yes of course, Frederick March and Janet Gaynor, in “A Star is Born”? Why didn’t they make movies like that anymore? Movies had been one of the great joys of her life. What had happened to all those hours spent in the darkened chambers of theaters watching other people’s lives unfold in reels of silvery light? When was the last time she had been to a theater? She couldn’t remember. She had cast away that attachment, like so many others, that no longer fed her soul. The ensuing years had showcased an abundance of mindless scripts that had worn away the magic. At least she had discovered Netflix. What a marvel to sit in silence, one with her computer, surfing through cyberspace virtually thumbing through the archives of hundreds of films based on the secret parameters of one’s soul; a cornucopia of old, new and foreign films a treasure trove for the discerning. The thought of sitting in a theater with strangers listening to the sounds of candy wrappers being greedily fingered and kernels’ of popcorn ground to pulp between greasy buttered lips enraged her senses and zapped her of all energy.
What had driven her to the shore, especially on a day like today? She didn’t know. It was almost as if something or someone other than herself was exerting a power over her. This wasn’t the Anna who meticulously ordered the hours and minutes of her life. She had meetings in the city, her time was accounted for. Yet here she sat staring at an endless expanse of ocean, contemplating what? She tried to clear her head and think rationally but all she could think of was how tired she was of living. She needed to care about something, but life and its endless battles had worn away her protective cloak of self preservation. The daily routines of existence could not temper the maelstrom of her life. It was like threading the eye of a needle blindfolded. She stabbed blindly in the dark hoping for an answer but with each miss the opportunity of understanding slipped through her fingers like the grains of sand that she now dug her hands into. Confusion reigned and more and more she knew she was unequal to the task.
It was true that her failed marriage or rather the marriage that had failed her had proven to be a study in diminishing returns. Serge and she had parted amiably their marriage easily dissolved. Seven years had yielded little, no children, no pets, and no attachments. It had been easy to divide the accumulation of things, the outward signs of a successful marriage. With a mutual sigh of relief they had parted ambivalent as to the causes grateful to be free and unencumbered. It wasn’t until some months later that the reality of an empty bed had made an impact on her. She had reached for him in her sleep and had been stunned awake. The physical emptiness of the bed had revealed the emotional vacuity of her world and with this realization all of her sense of purpose had vanished. She had rushed into therapy hoping for a cure, but all the pundits and their steady stream of well paid for analysis had done little to restore her broken spirit. She might as well be drowning in the arms of the turbulent sea then continue to pretend that tomorrow held a key to her happiness. What an overrated word, “happiness”, tantalizing with its equal promises of reward and redemption. She recalled her mother’s words, prior to the divorce, that had set the end in motion, “Are you happy honey?” Four little words had revealed the failure of her marriage and with it went the idealistic propensity of youth when one believes all things are possible.
She had built a successful career through hard work and determination, something solid and fulfilling that she could depend on. The truth was that even her work, that last bastion of pride and accomplishment, no longer fulfilled her. She thought about praying but that would be like believing in the intervention of angels or God himself. It was all pointless, bringing her to this precipice of emptiness that held her immobile staring out at the gloomy sea.
Lately, self deprecation had become her armor. It precluded any disapproval from the outside world but unwittingly encouraged her self-created demons to thrive. She had become reclusive but thought herself in “splendid isolation” alienating friends, family and colleagues. She had told herself that her work demanded no distractions and that eventually she would find the time to mend her frayed relationships. Her self-denial was one more nail in the coffin and she knew it.
She shivered as a blast of cold wet spray pummeled her raising goose bumps on her arms and legs. Her natural inclination should have been self preservation but instead of protecting herself from the bombardment of salt and spray she welcomed the chilly embrace, her physical discomfort proving that she was still alive.
Somewhere down the beach, faint in comparison to the thunderous pounding of the surf she heard a dog barking. Turning her head she focused her eyes along the grey path of shoreline to a distant intruder. A dog frolicked in and out of the effervescent foam of dying waves barking with bravado at the mighty mammoth of rolling walls of water that came in endless sets threatening to engulf him. Then with carefree aplomb he trotted back to his master barking his daredevil exploits as he frolicked with leaps and bounds around him shaking from head to toe, freeing the beads of saltwater that clung to his shiny black coat. Once satisfied with his owner’s approval the dog turned and ran barking towards the surging tide daring it to envelope him again. The diversion arrested her attention allowing a momentary respite from the unrelenting despair of her thoughts.
It occurred to her that the approaching stranger introduced a new impediment to the drama that she contemplated. It was irritatingly apparent that if she tried to swim out through the crashing surf he might intervene preventing her from accomplishing what now seemed her determined goal. After all only a mad person or someone contemplating suicide would willingly ignore the dangers of frigid water and undertow. Staring out over her shoulder her eyes blurred by the damp tendrils of hair that clung to the contours of her face she watched as the man and his dog continued to approach. With growing apprehension she wondered, could she, even without the intrusion find the determination to truly end her life. As she contemplated her unease the air thickened and darkened with an impending threat of rain as the stranger and his pet loomed ever nearer.
Damn it, she thought, there was no question she would have to wait until the stranger and his dog were gone. She couldn’t just walk fully dressed into the icy waves and not expect that the man wouldn’t play hero. The whole scenario was beginning to feel like a soap opera. She stared out at the grayness of sea and sky where a seagull struggled against the wind his screeching barely audible above the roar of rushing air and pounding waves. Hopefully the man would pass her or better yet turn around and disappear. She stole one more look at the two approaching figures before turning her attention once more to the black rain gorged clouds that moved slowly across the sky. Taking a deep breath she shrank into herself hoping to project a desire for privacy. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see them or encourage any curious glance from them. She wanted no contact accidental or otherwise with the intruders. Surely she represented no irregularity in the scheme of things, just a woman sitting on the beach in meditation seeking a union between the spiritual and natural world. Frozen, her posture rigid like a statue, she sat barely breathing her senses tuned to the deafening struggle of wind and surf.
Then the unthinkable occurred. A warm moist tongue licking the salt from her face startled her with its persistence. Reacting instinctively, she opened her eyes as her hands rushed spontaneously to protect her face from the onslaught of animal affection. A man’s voice broke the spell as he ran up grabbing the dog by the collar and gently reprimanded, “Anaia, no. Bad girl. Not everyone wants a dog licking them all over their face.” Reluctantly the dog allowed herself to be pulled away as the man quickly clipped a leash to her collar. “I’m sorry. I hope she didn’t frighten you? She loves people and you were the only person on the beach, she just couldn’t resist,” his pale grey eyes deepened into a smile as their eyes met.
“No harm done. Uh…I just didn’t expect it.” She forced herself to return the smile.
Anaia tugged on the leash determined to return to Anna. “She certainly likes you.” “Anaia sit.” The dog obediently sat as her eyes shifted back and forth from her master to Anna. Whining she pleaded to be let free, her tail fervently fanning the air.
“Yes…well…no problem.” Hoping that the fewer words exchanged between them the more likely he would be to continue on his way. She turned back toward the sea ignoring the man and his dog.
“It looks like a pretty big storm is coming.” She could feel his eyes searching her as she stared intently toward the seascape. “Beautiful isn’t it?” He continued not waiting for her to reply, “I love when there is no one on the beach. It’s like opening a window and seeing the world anew. It really puts things in perspective…” His words hung in the air an uncompleted thought. She could feel him turn towards the sea following her gaze. The silence devoid of words only emphasized the clamorous struggle of wind and surf.
She hugged her legs as a chill swept through her. Unbidden he sat beside her. Anaia lay down in the sand her head resting on his leg her eyes fixed on Anna. The two strangers stared silently out over the whitecaps to the darkening horizon each one absorbed in their own thoughts.
“Listen, I know you might think I’m crazy but I just live about a half mile from here on the beach.” He nodded his head back toward the direction in which he had come, his eyes never leaving her face. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I could really use one and you look pretty chilled.”
Anna turned and met his eyes, “Tell me something? Is there a meaning to your dog’s name? I’ve never heard it before, does “Anaia” mean something?”
For a moment he was taken aback and hesitated. A smile shaped his lips and then faded as his face settled into seriousness, “It’s a biblical name, it means… God has answered.”
He watched as she audibly took a deep breath her head nodding with understanding. “I think I’d like that cup of coffee,” she said as tears filled her eyes.
