“You can’t just talk it away.”
“I’m not trying to deny anything. I’m simply trying to – ”
A futile endeavor, thinking you can revisit the places where joy once thrived, as if the locations held any real power over feelings. Yet, she mused, this desire to return was all they possessed, a concept that might be equated with faith. Yet, faith was something she felt she could no longer claim – though here she was, pretending anyway. Pretending was the only way to ward off the haunting memories. So, they walked on. When expectations of significant change crumble and you revert to your old self, what else can you do but feign happiness?
“The beach?” he inquired. “What about that little beach with the broken chairs?”
“Yes.”
And so they strolled, silently, the three blocks to the shore, and she felt a flicker of relief upon noticing the absence of those chairs. They settled on the grass while he rambled on about the real estate market. It always came back to real estate, didn’t it? He lamented how this place would be ruined too. His passionate disdain for the wealthy – the plunderers! – was as genuine as his yearning for money that perpetually eluded him. He didn’t hide the contradiction; in fact, she admired his unabashed hypocrisy. It felt entirely normal to her to despise what you craved. Now, he was attributing the chairs’ disappearance to the affluent, who insisted on fixing things that were perfectly fine, thereby tainting everything they touched. For her part, though she remained silent, not truly listening, the absence of the chairs marked a shift from the last time they were here, and she appreciated that at least the chairs had acknowledged this change by vanishing, whether by the hands of the greedy or not.
“It would be nice to break some new chairs and leave them here.”
She gazed out at the water, watching the sailboats drift and the object that resembled a floating doghouse. At least that was still present. She nearly pointed it out but feared that acknowledging it might cause it to disappear or transform. A weathered boat with a shingled roof, moored in the bay beside the sailboats. It made no sense; she was grateful for the absence of the chairs while simultaneously relieved that the doghouse boat remained. But such was life. There was still time, she reminded herself. The odds were against them, but hope was not entirely lost. These moments happened every hour of every day. It even happened to her in her mid-thirties, and she felt a sense of relief then, devoid of grief. Grief, she mused, was situational, just like everything else. Location, location, location, she could almost hear him saying, except now he was contemplating dinner. Part of her wanted him to notice the doghouse boat on his own, while another part did not. Was this her dilemma? The constant clash of desires? Yes, there was still time, but why can’t one mourn what could have been, what this time failed to deliver? There was something so relentless about optimism. The damp grass began to seep through her sundress. Later, at the quaint hotel next to the yacht club, they would undress, and the act of intimacy would serve as a distraction, a welcome one. She had always found hotel encounters thrilling because, after all, who cared about the sheets? She’d leave a generous tip on the bedside table. Now, it also became a means to channel her frustration at him – yes – at his endless, futile chatter, but also at a higher power she hadn’t contemplated much until now. Now she was almost convinced. A great eye in the sky observing every move made sense. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. He seemed just as indecisive. This empty vessel.
Later, she would moan loudly enough to startle the innkeepers.
“You’re not in the mood for fish?” he asked. “Why not? Last time – ” The boats swayed gently, while the land cradled the bay like a crooked arm.
This tale reflects the complexity of returning to familiar places and the mixed emotions that accompany such experiences. Relationships, nostalgia, and the internal struggle to balance hope and grief interweave throughout the narrative. For more on parenting and navigating life’s challenges, check out this post on home insemination, and for additional insights on the journey to parenthood, this resource offers valuable information. If you are interested in home insemination kits, Cryobaby is a trusted authority on the subject.