by Sylvie
This moment will evade me. Salty beach air. Mist clinging to my leather jacket. Green-gray Pacific waves crashing and frothing and foaming. Sand whispering under my Chelsea boots. Hands shaking in my jean pockets. And tears trailing down my pale cheeks.
My mind is replaying the moment like a broken videotape. I’m sitting on the outdoor patio, dragging on a cigarette, releasing plumes of smoke into the cold air. The kids are playing Cowboys and Indians in the yard. “I gotcha Jesse!” “Oh no you don’t, Anna!” I glance over, a tiny smile curving across my face. But my eyes mist over. When push comes to shove, they’ll go with Sara.
I stub the cigarette out, humming quietly to myself. The notebook sits open to the page titled Simple Twist of Fate. I don’t know if I’m going to record it yet.
A seagull rides the wide over my head, barely flapping its wings. I watch it disappear over the hedge, and then I hear the door open. I swivel around to notice Maria. Her face is red and stained with tears. “Dad,” she sobs.
I furrow my brow. Maria barely talks to me. “What’s a matter?”
She points to the door. “Mom wants to talk to you.”
I mutter a curse under my breath and hurry inside. The wooden floor creaks under my boots. “Sara,” I call frantically. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
And then I see her. Telephone clenched in her fist like a weapon, knuckles white, jaw straining with how tight it’s clamped. “My god,” she grits out. “Lisa’s on the phone. Say hi to the one you truly love.”
My eyes widen, lips part. “Sara, darling, I–”
She stamps her foot. My back goes ramrod straight. “Don’t you dare. Your agent? You have got to be kidding me. I picked up and she said ‘Hey baby, is Sara home?’”
My jaw drops and I lunge, grabbing the phone. “Lisa, what in the world! It was a year ago!”
She giggles. “One year too long.”
I roar, slamming the phone down. My fists clench at my sides, my breath coming in hot gusts. “God, I’m firing her.”
Sara’s shoulders quake with tears unshed. “It’s too late. You betrayed me.”
I don’t even process what I’m doing when I pounce forward, caging her to the wall. “I love you, Sara. You don’t even know.” My vision blurs–I blink, and I feel hot tears roll down my cheeks. Sara weeps silently. I look down at my stiff hands braced against the wall and step back. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad person,” I sob, voice cracking.
She sighs, a teardrop falling onto her sweater vest. “Just leave. Never come back.”
“Sara–please–”
“I SAID, NEVER COME BACK!”
Her heeled boot collides with the floorboards. I jump back, scurry outside, and scoop up my notebook. I can feel the kids’ eyes on my back as I slam myself into my Rolls-Royce. I pull out of the driveway, turn onto the road, and get on the freeway to Leo Carillo Beach.
Now here I am, sitting on the pale sand. I wring my hands together. The notebook is blown open by the wind, the sound of flapping paper swallowed by the rough, crashing waves and the sharp cries of seagulls.
I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. I quickly wipe away my tears and turn to face an old man, hunched over, cigar hanging from his lips. “What’s in the notebook, son?”