Seaside Thoughts (Blogophilia 51.8)

It was one of the older beach shacks, a weathered gray stack of sticks sitting squat on the bluff near the inlet, four rooms and a screed porch overlooking the ocean. The white Adirondack contrasted with the dark green paint of the screened in porch. A man, the picture of moral desolation, sat in the chair looking over the churning water. Seaside sounds quieted his rage and focused his thoughts. It was gracious of Jack to let him stay at the beach house. They had their differences over the years; the respect for the man was always there. Guilt and shame have a way to loosen these kinds of favors. It wasn’t every day your daughter twists the knife into her ex and made you pay for it. 

 

Atlanta to Kiawah had passed through his mind in a blur of tears. A case of Wild Turkey had been liberated from the reception, another case of a friend looking the other way. Somehow, he kept it between the lines and the State Patrol was none the wiser. A case and a half was left, wounds could be assuaged for a very long time. 

 

Gun metal gray clouds laced with off-white tentacles gathered on the Northeast horizon. A big storm was stirring and coming this way. Salty breeze was already fresh ahead of the onslaught. The white caps were late, though. That was how you could tell how bad it would be. Uncle Archie had told him that on the boat so many years ago. This one would be nasty. He hoped the roof would hold. 

 

The old jelly glass was brought half way up without losing a drop Wasn’t there an old George Jones song like this? Thank God for bourbon, seriously. If it wasn’t for the half a bottle slammed down before the wedding, he wouldn’t have stayed quiet in corner. She really was a piece of work, inviting your cuckolded ex-husband to your next wedding? And why did he even agree? Yeah, he loved being the butt of a joke. Bad enough he caught the Savage in full stroke in his bed, now she wanted to rub his nose in it. Winning another round in the sado-masochistic game they had played since high school. 

 

The procession was a truck wreck in slow motion. They were bad for each other and everyone knew it. Savage looked entirely out of place, smirking in his ill fitting tux looking out at the shocked crowd. Jack looking like he had been shot him as he escorted her down the aisle. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The running bet in back of the sanctuary whether labor would start as the vows were said. Father Terry could ignore a lot, given the rumored large donation to the building fund. He had slipped in the side door as soon as the music started and he was left alone until she caught sight of him. Shouting and fingers pointing his direction, and he left the same way he came in, but not without leaving his gift.

 

The box only contained one item: A black rose, a symbol for the death of their marriage. The divorce had not been finalized. Everyone in attendance had known it and no one, even him, had said anything. 

 

It didn’t matter. Not anymore. There was a special gift in Savage’s trunk. 

 

The rain had picked up and began to slant in through the screen, briefly sobering him up. Standing, he brushed droplets off his slacks and grabbed his glass. Ambling inside, he noticed the table clock said 10:59. Almost without thinking, he picked up the remote control and turned on the TV.

 

“Good evening and welcome to the WSOC Nightbeat. We open with breaking news out of Georiga. A car has wrecked on I-75 southbound about ten miles south of Macon after some sort of an explosion. Two people are confirmed dead…”

 

Punching the off button, he drained his glass and smiled.

 

He’d won.

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Topic-Katy Behr Adkins

Picture-Christine Wichman

Pic Guesses-Black rose, Death (in blog), Cheat, Faded Beauty, Ugliness, Sadness, Funeral, Ending, Thorns.

Special Thanks to Writer’s Write for the prompt “Write about a wedding you don’t want to attend.”