R & R by Ben Sullivan "Martin, you're not asleep, are you?" He shifted slightly in the plastic fold-out chair and watched a pair of gulls swing and dip over the waves. He wasn't asleep, but he had hoped that she might assume he was and keep quiet. "No ... I'm not asleep. Would it matter if I was?" "Of course it would matter! You can go back to the hotel if you want to sleep! You need to be enjoying this beautiful day. And how often do we get to look at the ocean?" She said all of this with the pinched questioning expression she always got when he said something that stumped her. He saw the look and grew more annoyed. He knew it wasn't meant to be condescending, but he sometimes couldn't help taking it that way. He sighed, but said nothing. "Do you wanna go back to the hotel, babe?" she asked more gently. "'Cause we can come back here tomorrow. We have two days of vacation left." "I'm fine." "I just though you wanted to see the ocean," he said, and chugged the rest of his beer. It had a fine taste to it, even in the heat. At home he drank Schlitz, which tasted like piss when it got too warm. On their vacations, though, he made it a point to splurge and buy nice beer. She frowned when she saw him fishing into the cooler for another. "You've had a lot to drink today. It's probably making you tired." "I'm okay." "The ocean is beautiful. I can't get over how pretty the ocean is every time we come here. It's not like the water in Galveston. It's so clear." She reached into her purse and produced a greasy bottle of sunblock. She squirted some into her hands and spread it over her face and neck and legs. "You need any of this? Your cheeks are looking pink." "No, thank you." "You sure? Your cheeks look like they're getting burned." "They're okay." "Alright, but I don't want to hear you griping about your face hurting later on." He turned to her, eyes narrowed under the dark sunglasses. Some times he couldn't believe how odd she was. She hounded him about sunblock, and not eating well, and a speck on his shirt, but wouldn't blink an eye if one of their kids came home with a failing grade or, God forbid, something more serious. She had a fine knack for ignoring the crucial. "My cheeks are fine, hon. Really. I'll put some on when I need to." She pulled her floppy-brimmed hat down ridiculously low on her face and looked at the ocean again. "Do you think the kids are having fun? Jason looks a little bored." He looked and saw the boy floating lazily on a raft a few yards offshore. Their daughter had found some other children to play with, and was building a rough-looking sandcastle with their family. "He's probably getting too old to be impressed with family vacations. If he didn't want to come you shouldn't have made him." "And do what with him?" She had that look again. "He's only sixteen years old. We can't just leave him." He closed his eyes and took another long drink of the beer. He was fighting his annoyance, trying hard not to let it bubble over. He wanted to tell her that she was being pushy making the boy come on this vacation. He wanted to tell her that sixteen was plenty old enough to stay at home alone for a week, and that it was foolish not to recognize that. Most of all, he wanted to ask her why she tucked her head between her legs anytime there was a problem. He said none of these things though, and was thankful that he had the beer to relax him. He wanted to get another, but didn't feel like facing her accusing glare. "Maybe next year he can stay home," he said. She frowned and bit her lip. "Maybe. Maybe mother can stay with him. I don't think she'd mind, just for a week." No, she probably wouldn't mind, he thought, but you go ahead and worry about it for the next twelve months anyway. On the beach he noticed a girl rise from her towel and walk toward the water. She was young, probably nineteen or twenty, and she walked with long, graceful strides. He sat up a little to get a better look, but made sure to stretch out his arms so as not to seem too interested. Her legs were tan and firm, and from where he sitting, he couldn't make out a single vein or blemish. Her swimsuit was skimpy, and most of it seemed to disappear into her small rear end. Jesus, he thought. Why do they have to wear those things? It's not enough I have to look at it ... I can't stand up for an hour afterwards. He thought of waiting on his wife while she shopped for swimsuits, trying on suit after suit after suit and complaining that every one made her look too fat. The girl on the beach probably didn't even try hers on. Just saw it, slapped down a shiny new credit card, and left the store knowing it was going to look fantastic on her. What would you do if she walked up to you right now? he wondered. No questions. No commitments. No one would ever know. Could you? Could you live with it? He smiled, and was about to let his mind go to work on the fantasy when he noticed his wife bending over to get a sandwich out of the cooler. Not terrible. A little fleshy here and there, but nothing too bad. But he remembered how she used to look. How she looked when they met, even for the first years of their marriage. She was nothing to frown at, no sir. She was the one that the older fellows stared at on the beach, the one they whispered and fantasized wickedly about. As he watched her he felt a twinge of sadness. Things were different now. So different that sometimes he wondered if, given the opportunity, he might just sneak off to some hotel with a young stranger. Something new, something where the questions weren't already answered. He wondered if she sometimes felt that way too, and immediately scoffed the idea away. The very notion would sicken her. Something new? God forbid! That would mean significance! That would require passion and ... perhaps conjuring problems that might actually require dealing with. The thought made him chuckle slightly, and she sat up and looked at him questioningly. "Is something wrong, babe? You've been awful quiet this afternoon." He reached for another beer, popped the top, and sat back with a sigh. "No, hon ... not at all." "The ocean looks beautiful this time of day, doesn't it?" "Yes. The ocean's fine."

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