The Beach House
written by: L.C. Ahl
@ahl_lc
For months, she sat alone. Cold and damp didn’t become her. But the winter provided her with an opportunity to reflect on the people who passed through her doors. Several individuals mentioned the term ‘vacation’ to her, but she remained unaware of its definition.
If vacation meant laughter, brown skin, sandy feet, and the smell of barbeque, she wanted it constantly. On those hot days, when her roof tiles burned with the sun, her windows would be wide open, calling to the ocean breeze.
In her fiftieth year, a young couple walked over her threshold. She’d been alone for a while. As the door opened, a chill ran through her bones. She groaned.
As she always did, she waited to understand the humans’ habits.
The girl donned torn blue jeans, a white flowy cotton blouse, and a black knit cap covering her bald head. She wore flip-flops on her feet.
The boy carried a bundle of wood for the fireplace.
This excited her. To experience the sensation of warmth after enduring months of cold.
“Are you doing okay, honey?” The guy asked the girl as he helped her to the couch.
“Yes, my love. The drive tired me. I’m going to close my eyes for a bit, if you don’t mind?”
Within seconds, the woman’s light snoring echoed through the house.
The man unpacked. He built a fire in the fireplace, placed a couple of vanilla-scented candles on the mantle, and lit them.
The beach house was alive again.
She was happy they seemed content.
It was late afternoon when the young woman awoke. “Why did you let me sleep so long?” She questioned the young man as she rubbed her eyes.
“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re too sweet, Jeremy. But I’ll be getting plenty of rest soon enough. Let’s head down to watch the sunset.”
“Are you up for it?”
“Please, don’t baby me. You promised this trip would be like old times.”
“You’re right; I’m sorry. We can stop at the coffee shop and get some hot chocolate to take with us. Sound good?”
The young woman nodded.
They put on their coats and headed out the door.
Once they were gone, the windows rattled, and the walls whispered; the pipes groaned, and the lights flickered. Only the house had the ability to detect their whispers.
An hour passed before the front door opened again.
“I miss seeing a sunset every night. I wish we could stay here forever,” the young woman said as they entered the cottage.
“Me too,” Jeremy voiced, heading towards the kitchen with their Chinese takeout bags. He placed them on the counter.
“Do you want the kung pao chicken or the beef?” He asked.
“Why don’t we each do a little of both? I like variety.” The girl put her arms around Jeremy’s waist as he dished out their food. “Hmm, it smells so good. I’m starving.” She reached over and grabbed a piece of meat with her fingers. “Sorry, I can’t help myself,” she chuckled.
“Let’s eat in front of the fire,” Jeremy said as he snatched up both plates.
Seated adjacent on the couch, they ate their dinner in silence.
“God, this tastes amazing. It’s impossible for me to remember the last time I was able to enjoy a meal.”
“Well, let’s hope you get to keep it down.”
“Stop it. We are having a normal dinner, on a normal night, on our normal vacation. Can we avoid talking about the negatives? In fact, I’d love a glass of red wine to wash down these damn pills.”
“Jewel?”
“Don’t. I deserve to treat myself.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, Jeremy got up and grabbed her purse.
“Remember what we said, quality over quantity. What’s it going to do, kill me?”
That night, as the couple lay in bed embracing each other, she found it difficult to hear their whisperings. She’d keep their secrets safe.
Once they were both asleep, she groaned a sigh of relief. The pipes pinged, the floors squeaked, and the walls whispered amongst themselves,
“I wish we could stay here forever.”
When maintenance came around to inspect the seaside residence, the worker was surprised to see Jeremy and Jewel’s vehicle parked in the driveway. He radioed the office to find out when they were due to leave.
“Hey, Ang, what time is the departure for the beach house?”
“Ten, my friend. Is there a problem?”
“Their car is still in the driveway. Should I go in?”
“Knock first. The guests may have taken a last-minute walk along the shore.”
As the maintenance man knocked, he called out, “Anybody home?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he opened the door. An unsettling sensation washed over him. Food dishes remained in the sink, and Jewel’s sandy flip-flops were next to the entry.
“Hello?” He took a few more steps within the dwelling. He peeked into the bedroom and found the couple. They appeared to be sleeping, but the caretaker knew. Shaking his head, he yelled to no one in particular, “You went and did it again, didn’t you?”
The pipes groaned, the floors creaked, and the windows rattled.
Swiftly exiting the house, the maintenance man radioed his office once more. “Hey, Ang. Call 911; it’s happened again.”
If these walls could talk;
ah, but they do.
And only she heard their whispers.
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