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Consequences


It was dark inside the car, dark with the distant dull roar of the sea somewhere in the background. Everything was shadows and silence. Still. Shoulders hunched up, her eyes closed in one continuous moment of realization. That sinking feeling when you can clearly see what's coming, and that it's going to happen. The chance to make it otherwise is waiting, waiting. And passes by.

Oh, God. It had come to this.

Sooner or later this spinning wheel of condemnations in her mind would slow, and something would happen next. Someone would knock on the window, and ask if she was okay. She would put the key back in the ignition, and turn it on. The phone would ring, lighting up in the dark, vibrating with self-importance.

She wants to change it. She can't hide here forever. Dawn comes. Tides recede. But the next move is laid out. Pre-chosen. By her own... inabilities.

Change. Do it right.

For how long? The sick-sweet release of confession and apology, the heat of tears, the helpless handing over of oneself, childlike and afraid... Cleansing. But then what do you do?

She cannot conceive of any way other than this, of a choice that sees past conflict into rightness.

Even agony cannot last forever.

There are distant figures on the beach. The phone plays dead, they keys sit silently in the ignition. The hazy horizon is grey. The darkness won't last much longer.

Sweat and nausea cling to her. Slowly, her legs uncurl. Her hand is on the door.

That's it. Get out of the car. One step at a time.

A young and eager dawn sun fights with the fog, tangled light and clouds and water. Trees refuse to be moved by the breeze. Under their stoic branches, the car sits empty, parallel to sandy footprints walking in indecisive circles. On a distant red bench, she waits.

Left behind, the darkness in the car settles, leaving careful silences where they won't be found.