The Beach

A snippet from my book-in-progress

“No, I’d like to get married first. I’d like the wedding, the ring, the security, just that setting…it’s ideal, y’know? I want all of that before I have my first child; a baby girl”

I laughed.

“You don’t get to choose.”

“I know, but if I could I’d want a girl”.

“I would have thought none of that would have mattered to you Ali. You don’t seem…you’ve never seemed the type to run on that logic. Why?”

“I don’t know why. I’m not used to not knowing why, I hate not knowing why, I usually need a reason why, but just this once…there’s no why. Who needs a why all the time anyway? Cause I don’t. I just know that I want my baby to be happy. I want to be happy, I need to know what shared happiness is, and maybe, a marriage will help me to see this more clearly. It sure as hell can’t do much harm.”

“But, Ali, that happiness isn’t guaranteed. People get divorced. People fall out of love and they get divorced, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t raise a happy child.”

‘No, but it means that they tried. I want to try.”

As she stared out across the ocean, nothing obstructing her view of the almost faded lilac skies, I tussled some rough gravel with my fingers. The ground of the cliff edge we dangled our legs over, like children of summer, was nothing like the smooth beachfront below, laced with cosmetic pebbles. Not an idyllic tourist destination, but not a sullen, deserted rocky coastline either. No waves crashed, just clear, greyish blue waters that stretched out for miles further than the naked eye could see. It was her favourite spot and I, too, was fast learning to love it. I flicked a stone with my index finger and it disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Forced suicide. For a while, I thought about what it would be like to float down in front of the cliff-face, a feather, animate, life-like, but light. How it would feel to have the air hold me up, whilst gently ferrying me down, swaying above the water’s surface before eventually settling on it, not disturbing its tranquility, light as a feather.

“I don’t even want kids for now anyway,” She started.

“I’d like to think I’ve got all the time in the world for that, y’know?” She sighed, not shifting, nor once breaking her gaze.

She’d forged a  staring match with the expansive, infinitive skies, and ominous as they were, she refused to let them win, and eventually they gave up, admitted defeat and the sun disappeared beneath velvet blue skies.

Author's Note

Hope it paints you a nice picture

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

It does paint a nice picture, and artlfully so. Your writing is very skilled and flows with natural ease. I give you an "A", MIss Thomas.