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Just Another Day At The Sandy Dunes Beach View Hotel

Scott Mahoney

    “You look like hell,” she said.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    “For what?” She asked.
    “I didn’t think you’d come... I mean after everything I put you through.”
    “How could I not? Don’t get me wrong, I still hate you.”
    “But, you’re here....”
    “You said on the phone you needed to see me. Why? And why here of all places?”
    “Here because this is where it began, you and I, that is. Here is where we met on the beach, you were lying on a blue and white beach towel tanning and my beach ball hit you in the face and I ran over and told you to pay better attention. Here is where you launched a handful of sand at my face and chased me down the board walk. Where we had our first drinks together, I did shots and you sipped Amaretto Sours all night. Where you laid in my arms and kissed me on the mouth for the first time. This very room is where we came to celebrate our wedding and made our first little girl.”
    “I remember all that. If you brought me here to reminisce I think I’ll pass. I’ll be going now.”
    She grabbed her knock off coach and began to stand up from the weave patio chair. He reached for her arm.
    “You can’t leave. That’s not why we’re here.”
    “So what is it then?”
    “I asked you to meet me here because I wanted to say goodbye... on my terms. And, this place - where it all started - there is no better place for it to end.”
    “I haven’t seen or heard from you in 2 months and this is how you want to say goodbye? Now? What a joke.”
    She started toward the balcony door, it was already cracked open. Her hand on the handle.
    “I’m dying.” he said.
    She stood still hand on the door handle. She stood and stood. The waves of the ocean crashed onto the beach, dark clouds shifted in front of the high noon sun, a far off whistle blew and drifted through the wind.
    “What?” she said turning around.
    “I found out when I left. I didn’t want to put you and the girls through that.”
    “What?”
    “I have cancer. Brain cancer. Inoperable. They said I had no more than 6 months left. There was a new experimental treatment that the doctors said I could try that would make it maybe a year, year and a half at the most.”
    “So you’re in treatment?” she asked retaking her seat.
    “No. It’s too expensive. I couldn’t put that kind of burden on the family.”
    “But you could leave without saying a word to anyone? I didn’t even know what to tell your daughters. They think this was their fault.”
    “I left them a note, its in the top drawer of my desk. It explains everything, I didn’t want them to read it until after I was gone.”
    “You are so selfish. I cannot believe you.”
    “I did this for us. All of us. No treatment, no suffering in front of my family, no financial burden you can’t escape from.”
    “You did this for you. Did you ever take in to consideration what I would want? What the girls would want?”
    “I want them to remember me as the father that took them to the zoo and let them feed the ducks in the park. Not the father that lost his hair from Chemo and lays in bed all day and smokes weed. They’re my daughters too. And this is my life. Don’t you understand? I have the say in how it ends. How I am remembered.”
    “I’m not sure I see it that way. I don’t think the girls will either.”
    “I’m sorry. I wrote you a letter too. I couldn’t bring myself to send it, so I brought it here for you.”
    He placed a vanilla envelope on the table and slid it to her. The man stood up and walked through the balcony door and to the bed. He stood there and stared at it as the clock ticked. He continued to the room door and on his way out he looked back and his eyes met hers - dilated. He mouthed the words “I love you,” and waved, letting the door shut behind him.
    She opened the envelop and several bands of hundreds fell poured out with a long letter. The last line read “Thank you for such a wonderful life my love.” Her face collapsed into her hands.

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