Two days now and not a word. The phone is silent. Ironic that, silence. Down the strand just over the beaten fence of the beach house, the surf pounds. It should be beautiful, isolated, a refuge. Instead all I can think of is her wind-blown, shoulder-length hair as she left. It wasn't an argument, more a disagreement. I don't raise my voice and she doesn't hold her ground. She'd often take the car, get some air, come back an hour later as though nothing had happened.
Not this time. Her phone was resolutely OFF. I sat in the sunroom staring out. Bleached cushions, bleached cane furniture. A smell of heat off everything now in the height of Summer. But I felt cold. Was she gone back to him? Would I want her back now if she did show up? I sipped the almost-cold coffee and watched in the distance as kids played down by the water's edge. A car door slamming woke me from my daze. I jumped up. Whatever it was we would work it out. We would. I rushed to the screen door and pulled it open for her. Sergeant Williams faced me, hat in hand. "Hey John", he said, eyes lowered.
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