THE EBB AND FLOW OF A TIDE
By Kate Lynch, 2015
Jordi wore a grimace of pride rambling barefoot down a path by the sea. The low light in the dense splay of pine trees darkened the way. A sweaty shirt in one hand, running shoes in the other he relished the massage the asphalt's fading warmth gifted his feet. He looked at the sky to gauge the time, guessing 8:30 PM, using the faint stars starting to make their mark.
On the other side of the pines the hotel would come into view; a dark silhouette whose balcony would be candlelit and populated by the inactive, subdued hotel dwellers. He wondered if they were lazy or merely relaxed? And hadn’t been able to decide what the truth was since they arrived last week.
He, on the other hand, hadn’t broken his routine. Wake, stretch, run, stretch, swim, stretch, breakfast, newspaper, coffee. After that second coffee, he was at a loss. So, he did a second round of running and swimming. And maybe a third or more, going until dark. All along breaking records he set for himself, surpassing goals and repeating it all over again with higher stakes.
Respite in the form of a sweet vermouth beckoned him forward. To be sipped overlooking the cove and the darkening sea water. A nightly ritual. He needed calories. His mouth already watering.
His wife chose to vacation here for the ruins, both Greek and Roman. The ancient sites were poised to keep watch over the hotel dwellers. The Greeks built first, closest to the sea, high on a hill, and the Romans behind them. The hotel was between the ruins and the sea and his wife guessed it wouldn't survive the ages like the adjacent remnants had.
For him, the trip was all about the white sand with capacious shade-cover provided by the pines clustered on soft hills. There were no lifeguards. No tides. No breakers. Just a lapping sound at the water’s edge. He intuited the absence of sharks, or sea predators of any variety. He didn’t speak the native tongue, wasn't much for language. But felt in a cocoon of peace and safety, nonetheless.
The generations held together by enormous beach blankets delighted him. They exuded quiet energy as they split their time between the salty bath-like water and the sand. Day after day. Bathing suits were tiny for both sexes. Women were topless. Children were naked. Everyone smoked.
Lily didn't leave the hotel during the sun's high hours.
On the hotel balcony this evening, her alabaster epidermis glowed. Her limbs flashed as she readjusted herself in the chair, frizzy hair pulled tight into a top bun. She stood and sat back down, clad in a loose, sleeveless, black tunic whose fabric caught the breeze and flowed with its rhythm. She was sitting at the table they had claimed five days prior, her eyes fixated on the line of the horizon, now dark, as Jordi approached. Without breaking her gaze, she acknowledged his presence by pulling the vacant chair by her side even closer and whispered “sit.”
He obeyed. Once he was next to her she immediately dug her claws into the flesh of the nearest leg she found.
She sighed with the relief of repossessing him. “I missed you. Where were you?”
“I found a beach and took a swim. The water is so salty I was in for hours. It takes no effort to float. I swam miles out and looked back to survey the land. I spotted a castle. A huge castle on a mountain. We’ll ask the front desk what it is and let’s take a car out there tomorrow. I’d like to see it up close.”
“Where is this beach?” she asked.
“Through the pines. On the other side. It’s a couple of miles down. There’s a village over there, too. Early tomorrow we can walk through and check it out. Early, don't worry. And then the castle .... late?”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. What am I forgetting? Yes, I know what it is. I’m going back to the ruins. And meditating. That’s what I came for,” she said.
The waiter approached the table, recognized the guests, and said with a lisp“for this evening, the usual?”
“Yes. Vermouth. One sweet and the other pale.” Jordi shook his head side to side and shifted his gaze to the point where Lily’s was still fixed.
The waiter moved on to the next table of guests, taking orders without notes. Now a second man of service appeared with two tiny bowls; one filled with a menagerie of olives, the second, almonds coated in sea salt.
“No different here than at home. You kill my joy, Lily.”