"Sally By The Seashore" by Nykky Roadarmel

Sally by the Seashore

by Nykky Roadarmel

The waves rolled in then slowly further out as Sally Jones held back tears, avoiding looking at her husband’s face. Sand stuck to their oversized beach blanket and though they hadn’t gone in the water yet, it seemed to stick to Sally’s skin no matter what she did.

“I know what you did, Jake.”

Her husband stared back at her, unblinking.

Finally letting the tears slowly pour from her eyes, but still not able to look directly at him, she continued, “I know what you did. This was supposed to be our beach Sunday. But I can’t keep my fucking mouth shut anymore…”

Her voice trailed, but Sally knew Jake would let her talk. He was oddly attentive right now, even having his “serious face” on while she tried to speak. 

“I also think I know why. Why you did what you did.” 

Finally looking at her husband’s cold, but somehow also empathetic gaze, she looked back at the ocean. The sounds of the water and birds in the distance calmed her a bit. She took a deep breath and wanted to continue the conversation but paused for a minute. This part of the beach and this time of the year was always the best—quiet and tourist-free when dusk started to settle itself in. 

Sally thought of better times with Jake. When they bought their house just down the road a few years ago. They were so happy. Every weekend seemed like an adventure, relaxing on the beach, tourists be damned! 

Then everything went to shit.

“It always was shit, though. Wasn’t it?” she said aloud, mid-thought.

Jake continued to stare, staying silent.

The ache in her chest started to tighten again. She almost didn’t notice the pain was gone these last few hours. But the memories, now her confrontation, had brought the literal heartbreak back. Sally couldn’t pretend anymore. She had known the beach was the perfect place for her to finally have this encounter with Jake, say her peace, then hopefully move on from this nightmarish chapter in their relationship’s story.

It was just a few weeks ago Sally had come home early to Jake screwing a young vacationer in their house. The girl’s sundress was pulled up over her head, perfect tits flapping back and forth as Sally watched her husband fuck this woman from behind. They were being so loud, they didn’t even know Sally was there. 

“I saw you, ya know. So don’t even try to deny it. I ran away so fast, Jake. I even cried so hard, I fucking puked!” Her voice had become loud, but Sally composed herself. Though there was no one else around, she didn’t need Jake to use her yelling as an excuse to interrupt her.

Her eyes met his, then she looked back toward the water. The tide was going further out and even though the sky had just started to turn that beautiful pale pink and bright orange, the once-comforting scenery was now just a beautiful, proverbial knife to Sally’s heart. 

“You killed me, Jake. At least, that’s what it’s felt like. I’ve hardly been able to breathe or eat these last few weeks. It feels like you killed me.”

She thought he was going to say something this time, but instead Sally took everything in and closed her eyes. The breeze was still warm. The smell of salt tickled her nostrils, then just as she thought delirium was about to kick in, a seagull landed about two feet in front of them.

Sally silently thanked the bird for interrupting her thoughts.

Standing up to brush off the sand caked on her thighs; she looked down at her husband. It was clear that his blank stare expected her to continue. He didn’t have to say anything.

There’s nothing to say, Sally thought. 

“You probably don’t even remember that I was “late” that day. Or noticed the fact that I was “late because of work” every other day these last couple of weeks. And you definitely didn’t realize I snooped through your damn computer, confirming you’ve been doing this type of shit the entire time we’ve been together. Even before we got married. Have you always been an asshole and I’m just an idiot?”

Sally plopped back down to the ground dramatically, being sure to keep enough distance away from Jake, but still on the blanket.

She looked him the eyes again and sighed. 

The sky darkened while the sun married itself to the horizon. The blacker it got and those deep purples painted the background, Sally knew it was time to stop ranting and let her husband speak. It was only right, since she had been the one going on the entire time.

Slowly, almost seductively, she turned her head, and lifted her eyelids. Jake’s cornea had already clouded up, his irises an icy blue. Jake’s frozen stare was colder than the ocean during the winter months.

“Okay, then,” Sally said. “Guess we’ll just find the rest of you at home and go to sleep.”

Grabbing her husband’s decapitated head from the beach blanket, Sally stood up feeling not necessarily empowered, but relieved she finally had this conversation. The sand sticking to Jake’s coagulated blood on her legs felt crusty, which distracted her from how surprisingly heavy his head felt in between her fingertips.

As the seagulls grouped together to feast on whatever was left on the couple’s beach blanket, Sally followed the path of blood on the sand back to her house, carrying her husband’s severed head like a precious beach ball.

It’s my house, now. It’s my beach, too, Sally thought.

And smiled.