Incident at the Beach

by Lloyd B. Abrams

Jennifer Wiseman pulled into the narrow gravel lot and parked her pristine Volvo XC90 in the corner next to the dunes. Her three kids unbelted, threw their doors open, and took off running towards the ocean. Her warning “Be careful!” shouted almost as an afterthought, was carried away by the wind.

Martin Luther King Day. It was late afternoon by the time the town cleared her tertiary dead-end road and she had gotten the driveway plowed. With her husband still marooned in Chicago – or so he’d claimed – she’d been stuck in the house with the kids all weekend after the nor’easter struck late on Friday night. Their McMansion, as huge as it was, was claustrophobic. Jennifer thought, with a chuckle, thank God almighty, we’re free at last.

She watched as Ryan loped over the snow-covered dunes with Beth right behind. She smiled aloud about how hard Emily, her youngest, always fought to keep up, her scarf streaming behind her like woolen angel wings.

Her cell phone chirped and she quickly answered it. “Hey Jen. I’m parked diagonally behind you.”

“Oh hon … oh my God, I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about you all weekend.”

“Me too. I’ll be right there.”

Seconds later, Matt Holmes opened the passenger door and slid into the bucket seat beside her. Jennifer pressed the button to lock the doors, slipped out of her full length puffer coat, and then turned and covered his mouth with hers.

“Oh, Matt, that felt so nice. It’s been so long. And being cooped up with the kids and all ...” She reached for his manhood, which started stiffening under her touch. Then she breathed, “Pull down your sweat pants. I’m so hot I can hardly wait.”

“Wait a sec. People might see us.”

“Nobody’s going to see anything. The windows are tinted dark. Nobody can see in. That is, even if they bothered to look.”

As he slid his sweat pants down to his ankles, and reached for the lever to yank the seat backwards, she swivelled her body around and climbed onto him, facing him. She was wearing the red and green plaid schoolgirl skirt that always got him excited, and she’d already stuffed her panties in the map pocket. She was so wet and he was already getting so hard she didn’t even have to help guide him into her.

She began undulating on top of him, moaning her need. She leaned down to devour his lips, to thrust her tongue into his mouth. She hadn’t wanted any man so badly in an awfully long time.

“Oh, Matt … mmm … I need this. You feel so good and hard. I love the way you fill me up. Pleeeze … I want to feel you cum inside of me!”

Her heat and the odor of sex and the new leather and her own lewd words put her over the top, and she caught herself just as she was about to let out a scream. And seconds later, he climaxed as well, grunting in ecstasy.

Then they started giggling.

“Man, you’re something else. This has gotta be one of the best.”

“Me, too,” Jennifer said. as she swung off of him and onto her seat.

Just after they rearranged themselves, there was a loud banging on her window. It was Beth. There was a desperate look on her face. Jennifer turned the start knob and lowered the window. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ryan.” Beth started began sobbing.

“What do you mean, ‘It’s Ryan’?”

“Mommy … eww. What’s that smell?”

“It’s nothing honey. Tell me! What’s going on?”

“Ryan and me ... we were running, playing keep-away with Emily’s hat, and she was chasing us. And then Ryan just turned and laughed at us and ran into the water. And he kept going. And then a wave came. And he like, disappeared.”

Emily appeared just then, her reddened face covered with tears, sputtering, “Mommy ... Mommy ... Ryan’s gone!”

Jennifer turned towards Matt and whispered, “Maybe you better go” and she pulled on her coat as she got out of her SUV. Matt opened his door and zipped up his jacket and came around to the driver’s side.

“Who’s this man, Mommy?” Beth demanded.

She took a deep breath. Then let it out. “Emily, Beth, this is Matt Holmes. We work together. He’s been ... uh ... a close friend.”

Beth glanced at him, then back at her mother. The wet spot on the front of his sweat pants did not escape her notice.

“But Ryan. What happened to Ryan?” Jennifer screamed. “C’mon Beth, show me where it happened.”

The girls turned and dashed back towards the ocean with their mother following. Matt tapped 9-1-1 into his cell phone and started speaking into the phone as he trudged along after them, keeping a discreet distance.

When they got to the water’s edge, the ocean was wintry greenish blue-gray. Several gulls bobbed on the waves and sanderlings skittered in the froth along the shoreline. But Jennifer never felt comfortable near an ocean that could keep secrets, one of which might be why it would want to swallow her oldest child.

They heard rumbling; a green parks department pickup truck was rushing towards them. The driver and a passenger got out.

“Ma’am ... what’s going on here? The state police called us. They’ll be here in a jiffy.”

“It’s my son. Ryan. My daughter said he ran into the ocean. A wave came and he disappeared.”

“Oh, lord,” said the driver. “What can I say?”

“Well you can say that you’ll find him and bring him back.” And then Jennifer began tearing up.

A siren in the distance. Its wailing grew nearer. A large blue and yellow police SUV was racing over the beach towards them.

The SUV skidded to a stop, the siren was shut off, and two police officers sprang out. One said, “I understand someone went it in. Someone wanna tell me what happened?”

“It’s my son, Ryan. My daughters saw him run into the water and a wave pulled him under.”

“What was he wearing? What color jacket?”

“Uh, it was a teal green parka. North Face. Why?”

“Well, a Coast Guard helicopter is on its way. We have a small window of opportunity to locate your son. Hopefully, they’ll find him.”

Jennifer shivered and thought, The water’s so cold. How could he still be alive? Her daughters – first Emily, then Beth, began bawling. She turned to them, wanting to hug them and comfort them. But then she barked, “Would you please stop your blubbering? You’re driving me goddamn crazy.”

“Uh, Ma’am … ahem … I don’t want to upset you more, but I need you to understand something. The water temperature’s under forty degrees. It takes twenty to thirty minutes to lose consciousness. And it takes about a half an hour to an hour until ...”

“You mean he could still be alive?”

“Yeah it’s possible, but it’s a long shot. That is, unless he swallowed water and went under.”

They heard the helicopter approaching, then watched it descend but not land, snow and sand swirling about. The officer waved, and shouted into this shoulder mic. “Teenage boy wearing a teal green parka.” To Jennifer: “What color pants, Ma’am?”

“Blue sweats. White stripe,” which the officer repeated into his mic.

Then to Jennifer: “Let’s hope we can find him in time. You know they have divers up there all ready to go in.”

They stood watching as the helicopter thwop-thwopped overhead, and then banked and slowly flew in widening arcs east to west. It then repeated the pattern, back and forth, back and forth.

Several shell-gatherers and joggers, and a man with a golden retriever, stopped to gawk. Jennifer, Matt and her two children stood like silent sentries. Matt put his arm over her shoulder. She didn’t shrug it off, thinking who cares what anyone thinks anymore.

As the sun continued to lower in the western sky, and the sun’s golden rays glittered like diamonds on the waves, Jennifer was overcome by the beauty of the moment but at the same time was overwhelmed by terror. Her hope for finding her oldest child alive was quickly diminishing. She felt her body becoming rigid and she shrugged off Matt’s arm.

“Mommy, I’m so cold,” from Beth, shivering, broke her reverie.

Jennifer reached into her pocket. “Here. Take the keys. You and your sister go back and wait in the car.”

Matt, in a low voice, said, “Listen ... if you want, I’ll take the girls home. And you can stay here and …”

“No, Matt.” Then, almost in a whisper, “Don’t go. I need you here with me.”

As her two children headed towards the parking lot, hugging each other, one of the officers handed Jennifer a woolen blanket, saying, “You know ... the chances are ... with the rip tide and the wind …” and his voice trailed off. Then, “You really ought to be with them.” That he had accentuated the word them was not lost on her.

And then, “Let us, you know, do our jobs and we’ll let you know as soon as anything … ”

“No … no. I’ve got to stay here and ...”

“Look, ma’am ... it’s been a pretty long time already. The odds are ...”

“I know what the odds are! But I’ve gotta wait here until he’s found. I’ve just got to!” And she started sobbing.

She was momentarily blinded by the helicopter’s blazing searchlight that was illuminating not only the ocean, but the beach, as the search continued from overhead.

The officer’s body mic’s speaker crackled to life. “It looks hopeless from up here. We’re going to have to abort ...” the officer quickly reached to mute it.

“Oh, jeez. Sorry about that. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, but I’ve gotta tell you that it’s getting too dark to continue the search. And I’m also sorry to say this, but by this time, any search is most likely going to switch from a rescue to a retrieval.”

Matt wrapped the wool blanket around her, and said, “C’mon with me. Let me drive you and the girls home.”

Matt guided her towards her car, where her two girls waited inside, probably freezing. Nearby, a county police ambulance sat idling, its red and white strobes still flashing.

As they got closer, he tried to embrace her, but she held her hands up, refusing him, and repeating, “No no no no no … no no no no no …”

She let out a cry of anguish, and whirled around to face him, and snarled. “Don’t you touch me anymore! And don’t say another word!” She pounded on his chest, screaming, “It’s all your fault! I should never have …”

And then she collapsed against him, sobbing, “What am I gonna do, Matt?” … “What am I gonna do?” … and then whimpered, “How could he do this to me?”

Matt stood there and took it all, and waited until her anger subsided, waited until she had quieted.

And then they realized that they could hear no thwop-thwopping, but only the muted whoosh of waves, ebbing and flowing beyond the dunes.

– This story, originally written in 2011, was resurrected from my “Works in Progress” folder

Originally written / September 6, 2011 .. Rev 18 / April 17, 2020

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April 17, 2020 … Copyright © 2020, Lloyd B. Abrams