As tears go by

// 3 Dead's Beach

Dead's Beach

Remo smiled at her. "Don't worry. You'll remember. Last night, there was a hurricane. The sea was white and screaming like a witch. This is not a place of hurricanes, but with climatic changes in Venice lagoon there are flamingos and lobsters swimming around."

She kept quiet, he couldn't possibly know what had happened to her. She still had to come to terms on what did occur to her aboard the ship.

" You lucky girl. How many people were on your boat?"

"Six or seven... I cannot say it. It's still all foggy in my mind. I feel dizzy and confused," she trailed off.

"What's your name?"

She did not answer.

He didn't push and introduce himself: "Remo Nascimben, Retired seamen. Let's go to the hospital. It is better if a doctor visits you. We will pay a visit to the authorities after the hospital."

She flinched but he did not pay attention, and drove away on the dirty road. She studied him. He did not like to race. Thousands thoughts droned in her mind. The old man who rescued her from drowning in twenty centimetres of cold water inside the life raft was about seventy years old, and was a loser, a layabout. That was clear, but he saved her. He knew what to do and did it. He told her he had been before in her situation, but she knew it was not possible. She was not shocked or disturbed by the sinking and the sea-drifting, but she could not tell him. She could trust none in her situation but he was cool and at least she could rely on him for the next half an hour.

"What day is today?"

"Today? Thursday the 15th of February, I guess, or perhaps the 16th? Since I retired, I don't know anymore the right day of the week we are in. Sorry."

"The yacht sank a week ago." She said doing a quick calculation.

Remo nodded. "The hurricane started three days ago and reached its highest point last night. Consider yourself very lucky to be alive. It must have been a near-death experience. Lightning, huge screaming waves, the roar of the wind, the deafening sound of the thunderclap. I had the same experience years ago. Our tanker sank in five minutes. I still cannot believe something so big and sturdy could sink so fast. I still doubt to be here alive to speak to you."

"The raft capsized twice. I lost almost everything I was able to salvage. If it capsized again, I don't know if..." She trailed off.

He smiled at her, and shrugged.

"You cannot change things. Get drunk is my solution to make things right."

"Does it work?"

He laughed and nodded. "Just for a couple of hours, but the aftermath keeps me busy until the next booze."

"I am an Anastasya," she said.

He nodded. "Nice to meet you, Anastasya. Do you mind?"

He goosed the sound of the radio. It was Mina singing an old song, "Amor mio".

"Mina is my favourite singer."

"Mine as well," she agreed with him, who didn't like Mina in Italy?

She looked around. Fields in the boonies everywhere. They drove past a farm. The doors and windows were plugged shut with boards. The fields were nicely ploughed and taken care of. There was nothing else around. The dirty road ended and they hit the asphalt. They topped a bridge crossing an artificial canal. Turned right, drove under the same bridge they had topped thirty seconds earlier, and sped away alongside the artificial canal of greyish water. On the right side of the road, from out of nowhere, appeared a rundown building with a sign on the top of the roof reading : 'otel Night club Terminus, the "H" was missing. The parking in front was full of weeds. At the corner, there was a sign reading LADY MARILYN NIGHT CLUB, with the face of the famous blond suicidal actress framed in a star-shape sign. Everything was falling apart, the signs, the building, the parking. Whoever drove through that street wondered how they were still standing up.

Remo grunted. "It is alive, don't worry. By night here there are more hookers than mosquitoes in a hot summer night. You must see how many luxury cars stop by. Never got why men pay to kiss a woman, and in such an unpleasant place."

She had an idea but kept quiet. Remo was a sweet old style gentleman, she was not going to spoil his idea of the world.

"I live there," Remo said, and pointed a line of old rumpled houses with gardens full of scraps, less than one click past the hotel. Nobody was around. The car drove past them and other fields, and tottered over a manned pontoon bridge. The warden was sitting inside a sentry-box. He waved Remo. The pensioner stopped and handed him the fee. They drove past. Around them fields and a couple of houses. Not a soul around. After another bridge, they drove through some sort of a suburb. The buildings, shops and bars were all shut. They were hotels, restaurants, summer apartments, houses and holiday camps. Remo chuckled: "In this town there are people only in summer. Now it's like to be in a fucking zombies' movie. Non humans around. Walking dead area."

Ten minutes later he slowed down, turned left inside a gate. "Only the hospital works all the year around. It's a big area. People are scattered all around. They wanted to close it, but the nearest hospital was too far away. So we still have it." He stopped by the triage. "You go in alone, I park the car. See you in a few minutes. Sit inside, stay warm, do not speak with anyone. People here are good, but they don't like strangers and fresh faces."

She nodded and exited the car, bracing herself at the door. Once out of the car, she turned back and looked him in the eye. "Thank you for everything. I owe you."

With the tracksuit, the flip-flops, the tousled hair, and the plastic bag, she really looked like a refugee. He shrugged. "The law of the sea is clear: people in distress should be rescued regardless of their status. Man of sea always respects this rule."

Remo found a park right away. He thought it was a lucky day. To save someone was good. He felt a new man, she made his boring, sad day a bright, new day. He felt ten years younger, he had the sensation that there were no more waves lurking after the corner. He walked over to the entrance of the triage and pushed the door open. His eyes became accustomed to the neon light. There were some people waiting. Some were sitting, others were standing up. He glanced around, but he saw her anywhere. She must be there. Perhaps she was in the women's room. He waited for five minutes, then walked over to a woman standing alone.

"Sorry to disturb you ma'am, have you seen a young lady just walking in here? She wears a black tracksuit, she is blond and young..." He trailed off.

"Old trick to jump the queue, old boy. There are no mermaids here, you need to drink less. You better scram!" she blurted out at him, and stiffened away.

Unable to believe his ears, Remo kept silent, shuffled his feet, glanced around, scratched the back of his head, and turned back.

Before leaving he turned back twice, but she was not there. Was she real? Was a mermaid? He shrugged. Huffed. Walked back to his car. Sat in. Clawed the wheel. Another good story for his next hangover, next night of bad weather, with the wind throwing a hard spray of rain against the panes, his drinking buddies and transients will have it. He chuckled.