A character that isn’t there

 A character that isn’t there

By Jane Goodhew

Sat on a secluded beach watching the sunrise and imagining that you were there with me I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know there is a stranger talking away to me.  He is younger than me, extremely animated in his speech and waves his arms around so much he almost hits me in the face.  His smile could melt the Arctic Circle and his eyes are warm like hot chocolate but deep with a sparkle like a thousand stars.  What is the matter with me I’m no longer a teenager yet here I am looking at him through puppy dog eyes as if I had never spoken to a man before let alone a handsome one.  He continues to talk but I don’t seem able to hear him it as if someone has pressed the mute button, I can see his mouth opening and closing yet no sound?  I ask him to speak up and lean forward thinking this might help but still his words fall on deaf ears. He gets up and I realise he is extremely tall and dressed as if he were going to the theatre rather than to wander along the shore. He starts to walk towards the sea and I think surely he’s not going to go in dressed in those clothes they will be ruined? As if he could read my thoughts he suddenly stripped off everything and ran into the cool water and swam off into the distance leaving just his neatly piled clothes behind.

I jumped up, rushed to the clothes to see if they at least were real, they were, which means so was the man yet there was no one to be seen in the sea!  I rummaged through his pockets; there might be a wallet or something that would identify him.  I came up blank, not so much as parking ticket, no wallet so no money or drivers licence.  This man did not want to be found which implied he had swum off to die?  No, why would he come over and talk if that was his intention, stop being so morbid and go and get help or call the life guard anything but standing there looking gormless.  The beach was deserted and the nearest phone was at least a mile down the road near where she had parked her car.  This was supposed to be a relaxing evening to sit and watch the sun go down over the ocean not watch a man perhaps swim out to his death.

I ran as fast as I could and collided with a policeman who happened to be along the promenade as there had been reports of strange behaviour near the beach.  Quickly, through gasps for breath I told him what had taken place.  He looked at me, asked if I had been drinking which made me glare at him and turn away before I said something I might regret. He agreed to at least go back to the spot where the clothes were, obviously not just mine, and  apologise for his wrong assumptions or at least that is what I thought. Well, we know where thought got me, cautioned for wasting police time because apart from my towel and other belongings there was nothing and no sign there ever had been.  Not even a footprint in the damp sand.  I gave up the idea of relaxing, watching the sun set over the horizon and dream of you, picking up my things I made my way back home to open up a much needed bottle of wine.                             

                                                    Copyright Jane Goodhew