That's What they Say

“Hey, sink or swim, that’s what they say.”
I didn’t look up but offered a single curt nod in acknowledgement. He brushed specks of imaginary sand off of his perfectly pressed dress pants and stood up to leave. He expected me to get up and follow him, I could tell. Three seagulls fought over a French fry across the dock; I didn’t dare look into his face. A defeated sigh eased out of his lungs and I watched his polished shoes squeak themselves back across the pier.
Finally I looked up as the seagulls dispersed, for him to pass. Already he seemed miles away into the distance and I had the fleeting panicked thought that I was already forgetting his face. What was his name again? I desperately wanted to jump up and shove quarters into the coin-operated binoculars just to hold sight of him for as long as possible. I however, never carry, never use, and never keep spare change. A strong breeze whistled through the pillars below and with their tuneless song my boss faded in the distance. All captains go down with their ship, that’s what they say.
Across the pier a thick young man was suddenly yanking on the rusted chain of a storefront’s metal gate. Just moments ago pier had been completely devoid of life beyond the rowdy squawks of seagulls and the rhythmic sloshes from waves below my feet. It rattled up, exposing the usual assortment of tacky tourist items; neon framed shades, tie-dye tees, sun tan lotion, and an obnoxiously wide variety of key chains.
Now, slowly and without my approval, people flocked to the shops. More seagulls swarmed near benches and metal trashcans anxious over the excitement of a runaway fry, popcorn caught in the salted wind or cotton candy out of a small child’s gripless fingers.
Women congregated around the shops, gossiping over this and that, reminding me why I never plan to marry. “Did you hear about… and… see… can’t believe… what a bit…choosing a new house… can’t afford… he never…”
A bald man was looking down at his map, turning it around and around, his broken compass hands crinkling the roads as he clutched it in the wind. The glare off of his head shone onto the lean arm of a pink-faced boy just as he laced his fingers through the other boy’s next to him. A large red hat bobbed in laughter beyond the brave scene. It was so nice of my brother to drop me off at the boardwalk on a day like today. I wonder why he didn’t stay.
A dog walked his owner who seemed preoccupied by the legs passing in the opposite direction. The weather has not been this nice since last week –or was that yesterday? An annoying voice to my right squirmed its way out of the girl whose Cell phone remained wedged between her ear and shoulder as she swatted bees away from her fruity perfume. She said nothing and yet would not shut up. I wondered if she was talking to the guy buying funnel cake to my left. Powdered sugar dusted across his mustache, and he was well tanned everywhere, apart from a skinny band of white wrapped around just below a pudgy knuckle. Out of sight, out of mind –that’s what they say.
I leaned even further forward on the bench; small clouds pass between the sun, one after another, like when my grandson plays with the dining room’s light dimmer. An eighties windbreaker pumped past, followed by a business suit, four bathing suits, and a kite attached to a boy. He wears his golden hair parted to the side as I had in my youth. Such a thought makes me smirk. As attentive as I am, I cannot make out the presence of my own fingers drumming away on my knees. I think back to my grandson again, his name was –gosh this heat, growing more intense by the hour… I wondered why on earth I chose to walk to the pier today, knowing how sunny this month has been. There hasn’t been a bad day yet. I knocked on the wooden bench after such a thought.
Just as I was warding off the rain I saw her, or better yet just her long braid at first. She was looking up just as I had been doing moments before, watching the kite fight to stay afloat in the wind. It dipped and rippled –a tail of ribbons slapped the wind, painting the sky with their metallic colors. And then I saw her face, as it turned to meet mine. The glance over her shoulder was quick, deliberate and shockingly beautiful. Why was she beautiful? Because she looked at me, she looked in me. She met my eyes as though we had seen each other a thousand times before. I’ve never seen such eyes, the color of green tea, ice cubes and all. She then smiled and I felt incredibly exposed and unprepared; a gift for an occasion I could not remember. Similar to last week when I forgot it was my wedding anniversary. I smiled back my toothless grin at this stranger, and with that she walked over.
I adjusted my suspenders and cleared my throat, but she spoke first. “Hello there, you seem a little lost.”
“Just enjoying the early morning sunrise.”
“You mean sunset?” She sat down beside me on the bench. “I noticed you earlier today, you seemed upset,” she noted.
I nodded. “Oh it’s just my son. He was trying to get me to move in with him. However, I plan to be traveling soon. Time and tide wait for no man, that’s what they say.”
“Where will you be heading?”
“I imagine I’ll simply start out in America. I would of course renew my license and drive to the Grand Canyon. Now that I think of it, Las Vegas has always seemed fun, all those slot machines. In for a penny, out for a pound, that’s what they say,” I held up the pile of coins I had in my pocket.
“Will you go alone?”
“Well surely no man is an island, would have liked to bring my wife, It’s all she ever talked about; after the war –how’d we go out and see the world. Oh, all those plans we made, my dear I’ll never forget them, like paintings all along the walls of my head. “Rose left last spring.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s always what they say,” I smiled at the young girl to show her I was fine.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, apologizing for her apology.
“I’ll probably bring my Nurse, but Oh, the woman is such a bother,” I exhaled sharply. “Always telling me not to go places alone, not to ‘wander off.’ She treats me like a child, claiming simply that I’ll forget the way home. Such nonsense. I’ve lived in that house for 42 years before my son up and sold it on me –yet another issue with the nurse. Apparently the house was dangerous; she told my son horrible lies about me having a hard time getting around. Once she even said I had fallen down the stairs –preposterous. I think I would remember such a thing.
“I suppose so, how did you say you got here again?” She looked nervous and played with the hem of her skirt, then, pulled her cardigan tighter to cut the evening breeze. Lights along the pier turned on. My grandson should be meeting me here soon. The Ferris wheel must have distracted that young boy again –or was he not back from the war? They grow up so fast. Memory is the treasure of the mind, that’s what they say. I squinted across the pier looking for his distinctive golden hair, parted always to the side. Did he come with me today? Did he stay home with his grandmother?
A woman next to me suddenly spoke, “Aren’t you cold?” She had long dark hair, like a rope going down her back. Small strands of it swam across her cheeks and neck in the breeze. She seemed familiar. Though, I’ve never seen such eyes, the lightest shade of green tea.
“Did you say something to me miss?”
“Come on dad, let’s go home now.” She took my hand, and led me across the pier; a small boy trailed behind us, and behind him, the long tail of his kite.




Review by Kiri Heidecker of Broadway show "Freak Magnet":
"This is fantastic! The ending is marvelous! The thing I like best about it is the wonderful pacing and the gorgeous, lyrical writing. This piece has managed to capture the voice of the character, and I appreciate the stylistic choices re: diction, imagery and pacing. Lovely work!"