One morning, on the beach

The woman was definitely angry. Oh, she was trying to hide it, camouflaging her stiff shoulders under the soft fall of her shoulder-length hair. But that grim look about her lips? Those highly glossed lips spoke of gritted teeth and possibly some amount of gnashing as well. But the woman was not bad looking, for all that. Just not the person I'd like to spend the morning with. And unless I was mistaken, that was what I would end up doing, unless I moved in the next thirty seconds.

But I was comfortable. The umbrella shaded the deckchair at just the right angle, my cushion had worked its way down my back to just the right spot, and the glass of lemonade in my hand was delicious. I was comfortable and the view was delightful and I really did not want to give all that up because of one potentially annoying woman. Or maybe I just wanted to know what was eating her.

So I took another sip of my lemonade and looked out to the sea, watching the waves rushing onto the beach. They were just about ready to recede when I became aware of movement to my right. An evidently overstuffed beach bag was dumped unceremoniously next to my own, raising a little puff of dust that managed to irritate me. I am not fond of dust on my bags. I did not raise a dust about it, though. 

She sat on the deckchair. She rummaged about in her bag for something. That poor bag was so stuffed that some other stuff fell out. She pulled out a bright pink scarf that almost made me smile. It was so exactly what I expected her to own. She pulled out a tube of cream and then pushed it back. She pulled out a bottle of lotion. She pulled out a thick book with a bright cover. Why was everything about this woman so bright? She might just start annoying me if she didn't stop her distracting antics. We both knew why she had come down to the beach, and it wasn't to read. But then again, why should I make her life easier?

That thought, tempered by another sip of that wonderful lemonade, cooled me down. This would be interesting. Something to tell my friends. Maybe something to blog about. Who knew?

She seemed to pause for a moment, and I could have sworn I felt her glaring at me. Then with a lot of jangling of bangles and swishing of sundress, she made herself comfortable. I was relieved, to be honest. The way that woman had been going on, I thought she would spend the entire morning packing and repacking that beach bag of hers.

“Such a lovely view, isn’t it?” she gushed. Aha, there it was, the expected and entirely trite opener.

I merely smiled. I knew I had to save my breath for later.

“We just arrived last night. You must have been here a few days already, I guess? I mean you seem to have taken the best spot here!” she trilled with a slightly fake laugh.

I yawned and said, “I’ve been here three days.”

She took that as license to further our acquaintance.

“Are you here alone? I mean you seem to be here alone. Most people don’t like holidaying alone, do they? It’s more fun when you are with someone, isn’t it?” Clearly, she was getting at something here, and subtlety wasn’t her strong point.

“Apparently it’s a matter of opinion,” I replied, deciding not to snub her outright. “You are not here alone, I guess.”

“Oh no! I’m here with my husband.”

Ah, there it was, that possessive lilt on the last word, that slight aggression leaking into her tone. Now we were getting somewhere.

“Really? That’s nice for you, I’m sure,” I replied.

“Oh yes, we got married just a month back. You know how it is with newly-weds,” she gushed, her lashes doing a poor job of masking the daggers her eyes were shooting at me. Maybe she needed false eyelashes or something.

“I am not married, so I can’t claim to know. But I’m sure you are very happy,” I replied with a bland smile.

It worked. She could barely contain her indignation. “I am! We are! It is the best thing that has happened to us! It’s not surprising that some people are probably jealous of us.”

Suddenly, I was tired of waiting for this annoying woman to get to the point. She was clearly not averse to ruining my entire morning with her pointless chatter and bright pink scarf. Besides, I was never a great fan of veiled barbs and conversations conducted entirely in another person’s mind.

“Is that what’s worrying you, then?” I asked.

“I’m not worried. My husband and I couldn’t be bothered by such people. Everyone knows that some people just like to make trouble. Let barking dogs bark, that is what I believe,” she said, pursing up her lips.

“You take such a mature view of things. But I am still young. If this wasn’t our first meeting, I would have said you were trying to warn me off, strange as that may sound,” I commented, crossing my ankles and sipping my lemonade.

She gasped. She obviously hadn’t expected me to fight back, in whatever war she had brought me.

“I am younger than you!” she asserted. Oh right, that is what she would get out of it. But young wasn’t always a good thing, and it was time she learnt that.

“You look it! How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” she replied, looking a little mollified. “My husband is a businessman. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

Oh, is that how she was going to play it? It was time to end the charade.

“Sheetal, do you want to stop pretending you don’t know who I am? And if you want to keep up this cloak and dagger pretence you had going, then maybe we could continue in the evening? I rather like having a peaceful morning,” I said, looking straight at her.

She seemed riled. “How did you know who I am?”

“Facebook,” I replied succinctly.

She drew in a breath. “So you have been stalking him, have you? But you better stay away from him. I don’t care how long you two were dating and I don’t care how well you think you knew him. You stay away!”

I thought she looked a little hysterical. She certainly sounded that way. So I just raised an eyebrow in this way that I have, and asked, “What makes you think I am even interested anymore?”

“You are here. You found out we were coming here, didn’t you? Listen, it’ll be better for all of us if you just go away.” She seemed to think she had reasoned everything out so logically.

But someone had to burst her bubble, and preferably before breakfast. So I took it on myself. “Sheetal, get a grip. Ask your dear husband why he chose this resort for a holiday. He knows I own the place.”

“Y-you own the r-resort?” she stuttered. This was news, it seemed. I felt a little bad for her. I had been pretty naïve at twenty-two myself.

“The island, actually. But that is really not the point.” Actually it kind of was, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I sighed and stretched. So much for a relaxing morning on the beach.

I got up, slung my bag over my shoulder and looked down at her with a grin. “Don’t look so horrified. Tell Madhav I said hello.” With that, I walked off, leaving her gaping.

So the morning wasn’t a total waste. I may have been upset a year ago when we had broken up, but this morning, my unholy amusement at the thought of him having to spend his life with Sheetal as his wife actually made up for it.