Excerpt

A dim light flickering inside the house, lantern-like, silhouetted two figures on the long narrow porch that protected the worn dwelling from the east wind. The couple, by habit over time, had their morning coffee on the rickety swing hanging there. They shared reveries, passions, and lately, anguish, before beginning their now kind of uncertain days. Again on this morning, as the scuffle between the elements swirled in the sky, they sat holding hot cups and overlooking a slightly angry sea.

It's building up to something, he said, coaxing the swing into a leisurely to and fro movement with his feet on the old clapboard floor.

Without even a sideways glance, she asked, You talking about the ocean or . . . ? She didn't finish her question. She did hear the sigh escape his lips.

And, whats that supposed to mean? he asked. But he kind of knew. Hed come to know her well.

She sipped on her coffee, hoping it would dissolve the knot in her stomach and said nothing. She knew him well, too.

They sat quietly for awhile, both lost in private thoughts, this odd pair. Yet, even in their silence, hand found hand and fingers entwined. So different they were, like morning and eve, but the pull between them seemed to cross a lifetime, many lifetimes, yet no time at all. He eased her around and pointed out over the water, now breaking in little white explosions over the rocks.

See out there? he motioned. You and I are like that ocean. Youre the waves ever rolling and ever dreaming of where to crest. And me? Im the depths grown weary of the movement, yet stirred by it all. But, we are the same sea. One sea. He released her, but not before noticing a tear on her cheek, glistening in the wavering light.

One sea? she questioned, annoyed now. Then why do you have to go off sailing a different one again? You say youre weary of the movement, happy sitting by your damn fire, but you arent. Not really. You refuse to let go of the past, let it find its place, let its lessons be learned by whoever needs to learn them. You have to go back and try to fix every damn thing you ever did wrong, or think you did wrong. She turned and pushed his shoulder, hard.

Well, go then. Just go. Take all that damnable responsibility and load it up on those shoulders of yours. The ones you think were made to carry the world around. Relieve everyone else of their own responsibility. Oh, hell yes, martyrdom is such a sweet cape to wrap ones self in. I just hope youre able to wear the damn thing.

Amber stood. I must go to town while the road is still drivable.

Ben looked up at her, then down at the clapboard floor. He sighed, his face showing lines of weariness. He knew shed go, had to go, and there was no point in discussing it further.

Yes. Go now, he answered.

Moments later he watched her trudge up the rocky path, the blustering wind wrapping her windbreaker tight around her tiny body. Noticing her bent posture and unsure if it was just her usual determination or sadness he saw, a thought fleeted through his mind. She really is like a fragile little bird. He rose from the swing and walked through the door to throw a log on the embers of a dying fire. Dying, as maybe they were. He pulled a chair up close and watched the flames come alive. Briefly, he thought of life before her, and since. Well talk when she comes back, he mused. Oh, how they could talk. Strange almost, for a man and a woman. Another rainy day, he said to no one but himself.

Up on the road, the wind was biting and she hugged her jacket tightly to her body. Suddenly angry again, she looked up and implored of the forces above the rumbling clouds, blacker now, Why? Damn you! Damn him! Why? Her only answer was a lightning bolt that struck the earth somewhere ahead. And then, its peal of thunder as if laughter mocking her. Rain was falling harder as she approached the car. How hed teased her about that car. She felt an urge to just keep walking, let the rain wash the tears again threatening to spill onto her cheeks. She really had nowhere to go, the trip to town only a pretext to get away from yet another argument. The road hugging the bluffs was slippery in this weather. Perhaps that could be an excuse to go running back down the path shed just forced herself to climb, back to him.

Doing neither, she tumbled into the car shivering from the cold wind. Suddenly, the need to just drive, drive fast on the winding road took over. To drive away from this place she loved so, and this man who gave her the freedom her very Being demanded while imprisoning her heart and mind. She dug the key from her purse, turned it in the ignition and felt the engine vibrate into life. Something moved inside her; a surge, as she pulled out onto the asphalt, turned the music loud, and pressed the accelerator hard. Now she would ride with the wind and be free for just a little while.