The walk home in the middle of the night seems daunting. Still I hesitate to accept Chris's invitation.
“Come on,” he says, throwing his arm around my neck playfully.
He leads me back towards the blanket where his wife lay gazing at the night sky.
I stop at the edge of the blanket, his arm still around me. “I'm not quite ready to sleep yet though.”
“Whenever you're ready, darling,” he says, smiling. His arm slides off my shoulders and down my back before he hops onto the blanket and cuddles up to his wife.
This is too weird. I need to walk it off.
I head back down to the water, taking note of how empty the beach is. Only a few people remain, cuddled on blankets like Chris and his girl. I wonder how long they've been married, what kind of marriage they have and if they're happy. Bosley and I were happy ...I think. When I stop to reflect, I miss him. So we must have been happy.
My hand goes to my chest where I feel a physical pain from the memory of him. The uncertainty of our situation is wearing. The scene around me, the distance I've traveled, the home and husband I left all seem so surreal. Will I ever see Bosley again? My right thumb and forefinger twist the wedding ring around my finger as I walk. I stop and sit on the hard, dry sand that separates the beach from the lapping waves.
I have to find a way to let go of my past life. I can't get it back. Even if I could, it wouldn't be the same. Bosley put my life in danger. He was violent with me. I must move on.
I slide the ring off my finger, inspect it in the dark, holding it up to catch the orange lights from the boardwalk far behind me. At the thought of getting rid of it, my stomach knots up and my chest tightens. I can't let go of him. I love him.
I slide the ring back onto my left hand.
Brushing the sand off my shorts, I walk back to the blanket where Chris and … whatever-her-name-is are fast asleep in each others' arms. I sit on the edge and stretch out beside them, wide awake, heart pounding, stuck in limbo ...still.
A bright light wakes me, and I peer into white oblivion against a black sky. Trying to sit up, my body is heavier than usual. I'm completely lost. The warmth of a body along my back and legs registers with my brain, sending my pulse reeling. It's the girl, I think I'm relieved to discover, although both her and his arms are draped over my stomach.
“Let's go,” the man behind the white light says. “Get up.”
I can't see a thing. Chris and his wife stir. I remove their arms from me and attempt to stand up, the soft sand making the task more difficult.
A hand grips my upper arm as I stumble to my feet, heavy with deep sleep. How long was I here? What time is it? What's going on?
The light leaves me for a moment and moves to Chris and the girl. I finally am able to see that it's an officer who has me by the arm and is shoving me around.
“Stand up,” another officer growls at Chris. “In a line. Come on.” He shoves Chris towards me and the girl.
The three of us stand in a row. A gentle kick to the inside of my right leg forces me to spread my feet. Two hands land on my shoulders, pat and frisk every inch of me down to my feet.
I am wide awake.
What are they looking for? What have we done? Are they going to arrest us? I can't do this now. My identity could be blown. They could send me home if there's a search out for me. Then I wonder... is there a search out for me? If Bosley's mixed up in the wrong crowd, he wouldn't be attracting police attention. So... no. There's not a search out for me.
“Have you had any alcohol tonight?” one officer asks Chris.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Drugs?”
Oh god. I pray Chris is clean.
“No.”
“What are you doing here then?”
Chris looks at his wife. Please don't get sarcastic. Please.
“Sleeping,” he says to the officer. “Would you rather we drive drunk?”
The officer, who surely would have grabbed him by his shirt if he were wearing one, pokes his finger into Chris's chest.
“Don't be a smart ass. The beaches are closed between 3 and 5.”
“Sorry,” Chris says, not sounding very sorry at all. “We didn't know.”
“Don't give me that bullshit,” the officer says, getting close to Chris. “There's signs every ten feet up there.” His arm points abruptly behind him towards the road.
Chris is quiet. His silence makes me more nervous.
The officer holds his gaze for another minute then shoos us away. “Get out of here!”
Chris's wife gathers the blanket into a ball and ushers him forward with a nudge of his arm. I follow silently.
At the Jeep, I fold myself into the back seat and hug my arms to warm them. As soon as we're on the road, the girl turns around to face me.
“Sorry about that. We usually don't sleep that long.”
“It's okay,” I say, even though it isn't.
“Where do you live?” Chris asks, looking at me in the rear view mirror.
Oh crud. Not only do I not trust him to know, I'm embarrassed that I live in a motel.
~~ Should Ana give him her real address or a fake one? ~~
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