The Call of the Ocean

My professional life was a mess.  My personal life was a mess.  I had just walked away from a job that I had begun to hate.  A year ago, I sold a company that I had started in college for several million dollars, and I had a patent on a design that I was receiving royalties for, so money wasn’t a problem.  But the company I was working for sold, and the new owners were crap.  I suspected they purchased the company for its assets and not for the abilities of the employees.  I hadn’t quit.  I wanted them to fire me, so I went home ‘sick’.  Now I was in the car and driving away from town.

My personal life had been a mess since I left the university. My boyfriend, and the man I planned to marry, decided that we weren’t right for each other. We’d been together for six years; he’d been my first, and I was his first (or so he told me). I found out the day I had cleaned out my desk. I was done earlier than expected and decided just to go home and work on packing there. Unexpected. Surprised. I guess there are a lot of words that describe the feeling that occurs in the pit of your stomach when you see the man of your dreams being pounded by the apartment maintenance man. And he was still wearing his dirty work shirt. That was two years ago, and I hadn’t met anyone who was special enough to wash the bitter taste of betrayal from my mouth.

I hadn’t driven away from town with any destination in mind, but I realized that I was driving to the beach that had so many good memories from childhood. Spring had begun to bloom, and I wasn’t even sure the hotels and restaurants at Shark Point would be open. That wasn’t really the name of the place, but my father said that it reminded him of the beach in ‘Jaws’ because of a bridge and a pond. I never really saw it, but the name stuck for my brothers and me.

Thinking about my family added to the depressing feeling that I had inside. All of us, my father, two brothers, and I were supposed to travel to Malaysia a few years ago as part of an immunization drive. At the last minute, I couldn’t go, and their plane disappeared. I tried to fight off the feeling of being truly alone in the world. I tried to focus on the beach, the happiness I’d had there. I had the overwhelming feeling that I had to get there. Three more hours of travel, and I’d be there. It would still be early afternoon. I decided to hope for the best and stop at the hotel before taking a walk on the sand.

The drive to Shark Point was without incident, and the traffic was pretty light. The sky had grown dark, and the radio indicated a 70% chance of rain with a wind advisory. As I pulled up to the Paradise Inn, I caught a glimpse of the shoreline, The waves did appear a little too ferocious for playing in the water, but as I didn’t intend to swim, I figured that it’d be fine.

The young man behind the counter seemed surprised to see anyone come in, but he told me that they were open all year as they often had people traveling the coast in the winter months who stopped for a room even though they weren’t planning to spend time at the beach.

My room was nice enough. It was clean and had a view of the beach and a door that offered quick access to the sand. I realized that I only had the emergency bag that I kept in my trunk with extra underwear, two pairs of shorts, and one pair of long pants, with a package of toothbrushes and toothpaste. I’m sure it would do just fine.

I placed my bag on the dresser and headed out to the water. The waves were loud, and the spray often caught me even though I didn’t think I was that close to the water’s edge. I stopped and stared out. The ocean seemed to call me, telling me that it could ease my pain. I wondered how far out I could swim before exhaustion would take me. Would I see my dad? Would my brothers give me a hug the way they used to? I missed them so much.

The ocean seemed to blur in front of me. I realized that I was crying. I was never going to stop missing them, but I knew they weren’t waiting out there for me. I had let sadness take control of me. I took a deep breath and regained myself. I started to walk toward the ‘pond’ and became aware of a figure at the end of the pier.

As waves crashed against the pier, he was getting covered in the saltwater spray. The figure didn’t move, and I began to wonder whether he was OK. I moved a little more rapidly toward the steps leading up to the wooden structure that led out into the water. As I neared him, I could tell through his wet, clinging, transparent clothing that he either took good care of himself or was genetically gifted. I called out, but he didn’t respond.

With only a few feet between us, I called out a hello, and he moved his head. His eyes followed me as I stepped up to the railing. He still didn’t speak.

The cold water had already begun to make me shiver. “Hi. How are you doing?”

He shook his head. His dark hair was dripping. I guessed that he was in his early twenties.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“My name’s Jeff.”

“I’m Gary.”

I put my hand out. I hated shaking hands with people. I didn’t like to touch strangers, but I had the feeling that he needed human contact. He reached out and shook my hand.

I covered the top of his hand with my left. “Gary, you’re cold. Why don’t you come back to the hotel with me and dry off? Maybe we can find you something warm to drink.”

Gary looked back out at the ocean. “I feel it calling me.”

“It was calling me a little while ago, but it’s a trick. It’s just water.”

“I thought it might make the hurt go away.”

“It only makes the hurt go away by making you go away, and the hurt just moves to someone else. As I said, it’s a trick; it’s not a real answer.” I had not let go of his hand. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

I brought Gary into my room. It had started to rain as we neared the hotel. On our walk there, Gary told me that he was feeling depressed and thought that being near the ocean would cheer him up. He was a student at a university about an hour away. He had gone back to his dorm after telling his parents that he was gay. They were very accepting, in fact, Gary said that they probably already knew. The problem started when he told his boyfriend roommate. It turned out that his roommate did not consider them a couple.

Gary said, “He told me that he had fun jerking off together and enjoyed the blowjobs, but he was only doing it because he didn’t have a regular girlfriend to bonk.

“The thing that made me drive here was when I started to cry, he told me to stop being such a pussy and that he didn’t want me to talk to him again.”

As Gary stood on the floor near the door, he apologized for getting the floor wet.

“Come into the bathroom, Gary. Why don’t you take a shower to warm up, and I’ll use the hairdryer to dry your clothes.

He immediately dumped his t-shirt in the sink, started the water, kicked off his sandals. After testing the water, he pulled off his shorts and underwear and tossed them to me. I wrung his t-shirt and placed it on a hanger. I tried my best to aim the hairdryer toward it as it moved from the hook on the bathroom door. Next, I tackled his underwear. As I twisted the water from it, I felt a movement in my own underwear. There was a sexy man in my shower, and I had his underwear in my hands. I tried to shake the thoughts I was having from my head. I finished and propped the hairdryer. His clothing moved around in the air currents, and I knew this was the quickest way to get them dry.

I went out and sat at the chair next to the window. A few moments later, I heard Gary singing in the shower. He sounded pretty good. The water stopped, and I heard him call out, “I feel so much better.”

“I thought you would,” I shouted back so he could hear over the sound of the dryer.

Gary walked out into the room. There was no towel around his waist. He stopped about two feet from me and right next to the bed. “Is it alright if I warm up between the covers?”

His strong shoulders and swimmer’s build reminded me of a guy I knew who excelled in the butterfly stroke. “Sure,” I replied.

He pulled the covers back and got in. He continued to hold the covers open and said, “I was hoping you would join me.

Without saying a word, I slipped out of my clothes and into the bed. He pulled me close and we spooned. Soon after, we were asleep.

When I woke up, he was gone; I was alone in bed. I got out of bed and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, and it was a little darker, but he was nowhere to be seen. I slipped my clothes back on.

I saw movement at the window; it was the man from the front desk. The knock at the door surprised me. I opened it.

“Hi. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“No. Come in. What can I do for you?

“First, the man who was in your room earlier left his note.”

I took the note from him and opened it. It simply read, “Thanks.”