I have written a few shorter pieces here, but this is the most developed story. I would appreciate comments and responses. Thanks.
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When I entered the carpark I was disappointed to see that I was not alone. At least there was only one other car standing in the dust. I had heard from a friend about this 'out of the way' walking trail and had been looking forward to a peaceful solitary ramble through the bush and perhaps even a dip in the ocean in a secluded bay. I hadn't brought bathers, of course. Just a towel on which to lie as I soaked up the rays of the sun.
Slinging my pack over one shoulder I began my ascent from the carpark. There was a shorter, gentler track which led through the dense bush towards the waves which I could hear crashing nearby. I hoped whoever had arrived in the other car had taken that path, and so would anyone else - in the unlikely event that another car ventured this far off the beaten track.
The sound of the surf was quickly dulled by the thick green canopy of overhanging branches, interlaced with vines, decorated with flowers, deep almost iridescent green punctuated by sparkling rays where the sun pierced through. Ahead of me on the path these rays shot bolts of light across my way, reminiscent of the beams of security sensors trying to detract me from entering into the sanctuary beyond.
I passed through the beams and the only sound released was the chattering of parrots, the chittering sounds under the bushes as smaller birds fought over morsels among the leaf litter and an occasional creaking stretch from trees settling into somnolent afternoon slumbers. Ferns welcomed me with open fronds. Small blossoms along the track-side suggested a joy in being which lightened my mood and swept away the cares of recent months.
Single again after all these years. I had seen it coming. At times I had even welcomed it and part of my heart had reached out to embrace the freedom offered, yet in the end it had been a painful tearing of flesh which had been made one, rent now into two pieces. The rough edges of my heart were still raw ... and so I sought solitude rather than company.
A moss decorated log provided a comfortable and timely resting spot. The water in my bottle was just cool still, but quenching nonetheless. Setting out once again - birds now flitted and dived across my path, and swirled behind me taking advantage of the insects disturbed by my passing, swooping to claim prizes in the air.
One hour of solid walking later I reached the place of which my friend had spoken. Climbing the last few paces to the top of the hill the trees opened up as if an opening night curtain had been eagerly poised to reveal wonders and delights beyond. And the scene so revealed was worthy of the anticipation and beyond expectation.
The curve of white sand which opened up before me was lapped by turquoise waters, graduating to deep dark blue as they receded from the shore line. A headland protected the bay from the roughness of the waves pounding in from the Pacific swell. Another headland on the farther side reached back, like two hands extended but not yet touching. The rippling of water drew a line between the two bulwarks of rock suggested a reef close below the surface. No yachts would be making surprise visits to this sanctuary, disturbing my long sought tranquility.
Down, down again through the trees which embraced the slope. The cool of their shelter was welcome as in the few minutes enjoying the scene from the exposed pass I had felt the heat of the sun on my back. The water looked even more inviting now and so I hurried down the
rough track, taking care to avoid the grasping roots which threatened to send me sprawling, as if they were demanding that I stop to pay obeisance to the trees which sheltered my way. I was thankful for their cover. But I was not stopping now.
Only when I reached the edge of the final barricade of trees did I see her.
She was sitting, gazing out over the water. Her back resting against the bole of a sturdy tree, towel beneath her to soften the hardness of the gnarled root, knees bent and raised ... and her long cotton skirt lay loosely bunched across her waist. Her light coloured hair curled in towards her neck. A large straw hat sat beside her, resting from its protective task and her eyes were concealed behind glasses dark as the locks into which they blended.
I thought that I had been silent but my sudden stop must have disturbed enough stones to make a discernible clatter, or perhaps it was a movement in the air which betrayed me, or perhaps simply the deep awareness of paradise invaded. Her head turned sharply and I saw from the down-turned mouth that she was as disappointed as I to be no longer alone.
But paradise forbids unhappiness for any more than fleeting seconds and her smile transformed my disappointment. She beckoned me over and as I approached her first words tugged at my heart. "Isn't it simply beautiful here!" The only word which registered to my ears was 'beautiful', for it was the word which swirled across my mind like a fog. She had removed her glasses and the eyes ... the face ... I ... I ... Words are part of my stock in trade, my companions in engagement with the world, yet they failed me now as I gazed at her. All I could do was to nod and grunt monosyllabic agreement. Reduced from 48 to 14 in but a few seconds. Confidence and refinement failed me and a bumbling embarrassment seemed to take hold. Thankfully she seemed to understand, or at least she was content to remain silent as we both sat, gazing out over the gently undulating waters.
My voice returned but my first words jarred the silence with resentment barely concealed. "I thought I would be alone here." "So did I!!" her sharp retort alerted me that I had invaded her space as much as I had felt she had disrupted my expectations.
"Sorry, I am just a bit on edge. I came here because I had heard it was a good place to get away and think ... alone." Her apology shamed me. Had I really become so seared and damaged that I was unable to make polite conversation?!? "I should be apologising to you. You were already here and I am the intruder ... sorry ...."
Her smile again blew away any negative threads which had begun to entwine themselves around me. "Can we start again ... I'm Paul." Without hesitation she took my outstretched hand in hers. "I'm Sharon. Nice to meet you ..." and though the usual social protocol would have suggested that the clasp of our hands should have been brief, little more than polite and passing contact ... she held my hand and looked deep into my eyes. "Are you OK?"
There are moments for self-protective restraint and there are moments to trust the instinct of the unexpectedly opportune invitation. Her compassion, so evident, destroyed any defenses in an instant. I held her hand still but my head dropped to rest on my knees ... and my story poured out like sweat from my pores after a long run on a hot day.
The bitterness of a relationship which had become dessicated, sucked dry by the evaporation of embrace or touch, caress or tender reassurance.. I know that the weakness and the lack was mine. My wants not met my heart dried up and I found myself increasingly unable to maintain the semblance of togetherness. Descent into acrimonious exchange and harshness which left us both scarred ... all this I confessed to this unknown woman in an isolated confessional beneath a tree far distant from any world I had inhabited before.
Throughout she held my hand ... and I felt her arm around my shoulders as my story degenerated into sobbing self recrimination. We sat in silence. Gradually I became aware of the selfishness of my catharsis. She had also come here to be alone and her idyll had been sullied by my pain. I felt hollow, but it was the release of a boil lanced, an ache relieved, a strange freshness ... an unusual feeling of silent absolution received.
I raised my head to apologise and to offer to leave her in peace and discovered that the runnel tracks of tears which scored my cheeks were echoed on her beautiful face. As or eyes met a fresh stream welled up and poured unfettered and unattended across her smooth cheeks. My distress nearly destroyed me and the pain of all that I had projected on her gripped my heart in a vice .... until she began to speak.
She did not hang or hide her head but looked deep into my eyes as she shared her own story. Echoes of betrayal, searing shards of savage words uttered in anger, the ostraka of her own shattered relationship resonated so with my own story, yet with dark hues and hidden violence which shocked even my ears experienced in the depths of human tragedy. The bruises which she retained were below the surface, unseeable except when looking deeply into her eyes.
When all that could be said had been drained from us we sat in silence.