The wind howls with fury outside echoing like screams from hell itself. Rain strikes the window so hard it may be mistaken for gunfire. Tonight very well may be the worst storm in the town's history, or so James ponders from the warmth of his red velvet chair.
His bright brown eyes remain fixed on the inky blackness and rainfall through his window. On occasion lightning will strike off in the distance, illuminating the bending palms beside the beach for a split second. To him it is a thing of tremendous beauty. Nature, even in as tropical a country as this, is often overlooked by man in his incessant need to chase his own manufactured desires. All those little tasks around the house and town which people put so much undo importance on keep the collective eye away from the world, the actual, physical world, around them. As far as James is concerned that's the only world that matters.
Mankind cannot ignore mother nature forever however. Nights such as these serve as a grand reminder to the fact. Nobody is going out now. No 'work' is getting done with the streets overrun in rain and wind. He doubts too that anybody is paying attention to anything else either. Mother nature is being far too violent to be ignored.
Thoughts of nature overturning humanity like this bring him immense satisfaction. A crack of thunder illuminating the shore beyond his window brings a smile to his face. The tide is crashing well over the shoreline, waves churning in wild madness. It is undeniable in its awe-inspiring power. His muscles tense in anticipation. The sea is angry tonight. Promises of her rage striking down men and all their buildings and contraptions dance his mind.
A knock on the door jolts James out of his focus, enraging him. But temperance is a virtue, or so his grandfather always said. So he chokes back his anger and closes his eyes as he slows his breath.
"Yes, Lauren," James calls out, his tone cold.
"May I come in," Lauren answers.
The shaking in her voice revolts him. To have respect for nature is the greatest virtue a person can possess and this extends to respect for her wrath. Despite what weak men (that is to say the majority) believe fear is a sign of disrespect. Disrespect for nature in any form is nothing less than pure blasphemy.
"Very well, you may," James replies.
As the door behind him creaks open James relaxes his posture. He hasn't lost his temper with his wife over their six year marriage nor does he plan on doing so now. She may disgust him on a personal level but it would not behoove him to lash out at her. He need only remind himself that it is not her fault she is of weak, uneducated morality. The blame rests on her parent's wealthy shoulders.
"Thank you, James," Lauren says in relief.
Stepping inside Laurent closes the door behind her. Her hands fidget with the lace on the sleeves of her silk nightgown. Eyes of blue shimmer with anxiety below blonde curls. Lauren finds little comfort in her husband's company though it is in the very least better than being alone.
"Terrible storm tonight," She says through a nervous half smile.
James 'corrects' her, "Beautiful you mean."
"You're a strong man, James. Most women would love that in a husband you know," She jests.
James turns his head. His thick, well groomed shoulder length hair brushes along the edge of his hair, a look of pity on his youthful face.
"Most women get their idea of a proper man from improper men, Lauren. Please do not project that onto me. Even in jest it's just sad," he states plain and mechanical.
Lauren inches back, uncomfortable. Six years with this man and she still cannot understand him. His words never quite match his expressions. They come out of those lush lips of his so literal and pointed. Not demeaning or laced with any sinister depths yet so detached. Like a doctor reciting a procedure he's performed countless times.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, James. I didn't mean to upset you if I did. I suppose the weather is making me uneasy," Lauren says, embarrassed.
"No need to apologize, it's not your fault. Have you tried contacting Delores?" James asks as he returns his gaze to the window.
Delores. Why in God's name did he have to bring up Delores? He hasn't seen her since they lived in England and even then no more than thrice. She tries not to mention her so why? Why now, would he bring her up? Still, she must not show her shock. Lauren ceases movement, inhaling deep to give physical reality to her mental fortitude.
"I'm not getting any signal. The storm is too heavy," She says, matching James' tone.
"That's a shame," James whispers.
His stare grows ever the more intense. Another lightning strike came during Lauren's pause. Through it he saw tidal waves of unmatchable magnitude. The water must've reached upwards of ten feet high. Not too much longer and it may reach the house itself. His fingers press hard against the chair's arm. So close, oh so close.
His excitement sets Lauren uneasy. She's not used to seeing him enthused about much of anything let alone something this dangerous. To watch on in silence proves too unnerving for her.
"James, what is it?" She asks, apprehension in her voice.
"It's magnificent. I haven't seen anything like this in person," the corners of his lips curl into an almost romantic smile, "never thought I would either. You know something Lauren, it reminds me of stories my grandfather used to tell me about this place."
Lauren steps closer, "What do you mean? What sort of stories?"
"My grandfather and I were very close. I always respected him more than those corporate goons who called me their son. Pathetic people, really. They didn't know anything not related to money. Like your family. Anyway, he told me lots of things about the world. I believed everything which sounded practical but never bought into some of his more...outlandish claims," James speaks through a nostalgic half whisper, leaning over the chair's side.
"Outlandish how," Lauren presses, ever curious.
He speaks slow with careful focus, "About things from earth that man doesn't speak of. He said that there used to be a third element, one connecting the two. Nature, humanity, and then this...otherness. The old man's lore spoke of the latter as a sort of bridge between the first two, a kind of force both spiritual and physical. According to him at some point man chose to sever himself from the otherness, damaging all three elements in the process. Over time it was forgotten about by all except those whose bloodlines remained loyal, passing on the knowledge from generation to generation."
"I take it he considered himself a part of one such bloodline," Lauren says as she steps closer, intrigued by her husband's strange tale.
James leans closer, the top button of his deep blue dress shirt popping open, "Yes, of that he was adamant. He said that one day the otherness would return to reconnect the bridge."
"Just how would that come about?" Asks Lauren.
A groan of thunder rolls outside, teasing another bolt of lightning. James' muscles stiffen at the sound. More than ever he desires to catch a glimpse at the sea as if it'd give him perfect clarity to all of his grandfather's riddles.
Speaking low he mutters back, "He never said."
"Your grandfather must've been quite the eccentric," Lauren chirps in a vain attempt to lighten the mood, "I suppose that's why your father was so eager to leave as a boy."
James shoots a stone faced glare at her, making her ill choice of words crystal clear. Lauren's face goes pale. For as sterile as his usual demeanor is, he's never looked at her like this before.
"Father left because he was a fool and a coward. When faced with a choice between the complicated truth of the world and the simple lies of a barbaric society he chose ignorance. If it weren't for that I wouldn't have needed your family's money to return to my home and you wouldn't be trapped here with me," his voice is harsh, flowing with passionate frustration.
Lauren's expression turns to a grimace, "Trapped with you? Just what do you mean by that?"
At once anger leaves James, replaced by a calm pity as he answers, "You don't love me, Lauren. Nor do you enjoy being here."
"What?" She says, surprised.
"There's no need for us to pretend anymore. It'll only hurt us both. But you know and I know it, neither of us are in love. With each other, at least. My love lies here, in the home of my grandfather, and out there in the arms of the wild. As for you well, there's always Delores," He says in his classic clinical delivery.
Averting her eyes Lauren covers her hand with her mouth. Every day since they began their relationship she'd known this day would come. However facing it out of the blue like this is a different story.
"I feel sad for you," James continues, "I needed our marriage for mere money. It's a goal I could obtain in a literal, physical sense and now I have. Thanks to you I've been reunited with my love. I wish I could say the same for you."
Tears well in her eyes as she speaks, "Why do you have to talk about it, James? Why now?"
"I," He pauses, looking back to the storm before finishing his thought, "I feel very fulfilled tonight. A way I haven't felt since I was a lad. I suppose I feel it a shame for you to be denied that feeling too. It's the world we came here from, Lauren. It's sick. It's poisoned. Only a corrupted, idiotic society can look at who you are and call you unworthy of fulfillment. You don't deserve that. I'm sorry."
Choking back her tears Lauren runs her hand to her forehead. Though he's not wrong she cannot process hearing it out loud. She doesn't love James. Indeed, she never has.There's always been a level of respect between them yet love never came close to anything other than a word used on occasion out of obligation. As much of an emotional knot as it is to acknowledge aloud a cool wave of relief washes over her.
A loud thud followed by an electronic scream brings their thoughts away from emotion and back to reality as the room goes pitch dark. Both sigh to themselves, far less spooked than they are thankful for the distraction.
