The Beach

Simon lay in the chair unmoving as the sun beat down upon the sand. Unlike the rest of the beach goers he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt topped by a large white sun hat. Other swimmers skittishly passed his blanket, the brave ones offering quick, odd glances in his direction, before moving on to their merriment. Simon paid them no mind. He had a pasty pale complexion, made lighter by the darkness of the bodies around him. He had his head deep in a notebook that rested on his lap. The pencil in his hand stopped briefly as he furtively surveyed the scene around him.
The hotel was up on the cliff not far away from the edge of the beach. The expanse of the area went on until it strained the eyes to see the edge. The sun reflecting off the water would make anyone squint and quickly bring a hand up to their eyes. The stairs leading down to the beach were steep and meant to be negotiated slowly. They would leave one out of breath merely half way up, and to lose your balance would lead to more then small injury. There was an alternate route, a twisting path, for easy access by the families who almost certainly had strollers in tow.
Off in the distance a young woman plods towards the strange man on the chair. She is dressed much like those around her, equipped for the beach in shorts and a tank top. She carries with her a bag over her shoulder. She wears a heavy expression and is out of breath when she reaches Simon’s blanket.
“Here you are. I have been looking everywhere for you.” She says, relieved at locating her quarry. She drops the bag heavily upon the blanket, spilling sand across its previously immaculate borders.
Simon looks up, taking her in blankly, before looking down again at the notebook. The woman sighs, fighting back the tears that have haunted her for the last year. Not now, she tells herself. The woman takes several deep breaths before settling herself.
“Did you want to go swimming or just sit?”
Simon doesn’t even bother to look up this time. “Sit,” he says flatly.
She looks at him, still unsure of her place. “Well I am going to go in the water some. I won’t be far.”
Simon grunts noncommittally. He then picks up his head and looks at her, as if for the first time. For him it is the first time, she has not intruded upon his world until now, a delayed reaction of the senses.
“I want to swim.” He tells her.
She nods, pleased to have interaction. “I brought your shorts in the bag and a towel. You can change if you are quick.”
Simon wraps the towel around his waist, dropping his pants to be replaced by swim trunks. Dropping the towel, he walks single-mindedly towards the edge of the water. He has not bothered to remove his shirt and enters the water. When he is about knee deep he collapses and sits, so the water is up to his chin. Then, crawling and swimming he heads towards deeper water.
The woman watches. It is several minutes before she grows concerned and frantically calls out to him. Some of the other visitors glance her way as they hear the desperation in her voice, though none move to help.
It takes the woman nearly half an hour to run back to the hotel and find help. By the time they discover the body there is nothing more that can be done.