the beach

the gold that chokes you

He wouldn't have done it he knew how easy it would be. How good it would feel. How hard it would be to stop. 

He never wanted to hurt his wife. That was never the goal of his affairs. 

But he knew she would be shattered if she found out. They had been married for that awkward amount of time that wasn't exactly new but was far from being something to be proud of. She made things hard. Not knowingly, of course. But she made things so hard and he couldn't stand her most of the time. 

When he said business trips, sometimes he meant just away. It broke his heart when she had a chocolate cake waiting for him when he got home every time, even when he smelled like perfume. She had to have noticed. Or maybe she didn't. She was the kind of woman who wouldn't notice. 

She was so trusting, always trying to find the good in people. It was why he fell in love with her in the dingy bar that he did. She was talking about the weather to her then boyfriend who was telling her to shut up. "Chris for the love," he said as he too a pull of beer. "I can't do this with you."

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Okay," she shrugged and picked at a peanut. He had watched her, seeing the sadness attempt to touch her eyes. It ricocheted off her spheres of green, and began to seek refuge somewhere else. 

He made his way over to her, taking a seat one away from hers. She noticed and smiled a bright smile. "Hi," she said. 

"Hey there."

"I'm Christina," she smiled as she extended her hand. Her boyfriend didn't seem phased. She must have been like that all the time, and he would later find out she was. When they first started dating, it would make him jealous. Now, he barely noticed.  

"I'm Christopher."

"Hey, Chris and Chris," she laughed, picking at the same peanut shell. "That's funny."

"Coincidence," he suggested. 

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I don't believe in those."

Chris was at the beach, but he hadn't gotten out of his car. He knew that Chrissy, what she went by now, knew. Of course she had figured it out. He had a dress shirt he hid at the bottom of his hamper that had red lipstick in the corner of the collar. He had meant to get rid of it but for some reason he forgot, and it was pressed and ironed on his bed. 

Chrissy smiled when she handed him his plate of eggs like nothing was wrong. 

Why did she pretend that they were okay? 

Like whenever they fought about children. "I wouldn't make a good mother, Chris."

"Chrissy," he took her hand in his. "You are the definition of a good mother. Besides we planned our lives when we were dating. You wanted them then..."

"People change," she smiled weakly, kissing his temple and that was the end of it. She refused to talk to him.

He felt guilty for hurting the girl that deserved the world. He felt guilty for telling a younger girl with red hair that he loved her, and he felt worse for the even younger one who wrote poems who he promised to divorce his wife for. 

He pulled out his phone and re-read the email he had sent last night. 

     I am so sorry for all the things I've done to you. I think we should split up. I'm so sorry I wasn't brave enough to see your face for this. Please forgive me.

He did it over email because he didn't want to watch her fight the hurt. He didn't want to watch her shiver with pain, but fight to keep breathing. So he did it over email like a coward. He set his phone out his side, setting his head against the window. 

A boy had collapsed in the sand about halfway down the sand, and a girl with a heavy jacked kicked her feet out to the ocean, a chain of smoke connected her to the water. 

Chris glanced down at his hand, his thumb pressed to the gold on his ringer finger. The gold that made him feel dizzy. The gold that reinforced his sin, his guilt. 

The gold that choked him.