Vacation at Sunset Cliffs

I squint and shade my eyes with my hand, hot and sweaty with the heat of California summer. My hot breath is heavy and sticky beneath my medical face mask. I try to find the address listed in our rental instructions as David tugs the large suitcase we decided to share up the steep hill. He is sweating and cursing to himself. In one of his moods.

We come over the crest of the hill and are greeted by the deep blue Pacific crashing along the base of a line of jagged, rocky cliffs.

I'm breathless for a moment. It's like seeing a mirage in the desert after walking for days without water. We've been sequestered to our studio apartment for six months and I almost forgot how magnificent the ocean is, even from a distance.

I look over at David who has now met me at the top of the hill. His dark eyes seem to lighten at the sight of the open water.

I walk forward, transfixed by the sound of the waves pounding against the rock. Kadoosh, kadoosh. I stop at a tall, chainlink fence that separates me from a downward slope that rolls out into a sandy plateau.

Below children play in the waves and their parents look on. David joins me at the fence, sweat glistening on his milky brown skin. He takes off his white Panama style hat that I bought him during our sixth anniversary in Cabo and wipes his brow with a light blue kerchief in his pocket. I recall how he planned the trip and booked everything surprising me with the tickets and an incredible vacation. I was sure I'd get a proposal then but he doesn't do things like that anymore.

He puts his hat back on covering his silky black hair. I sometimes wish I had curls like him, mine are more of a 4A, coiled and thick, dry and sometimes difficult to manage. I like to imagine what our kids would look like with his wavy hair and my dark brown skin.

This is gorgeous, David says through his face mask still staring into the wild blue yonder. Thanks for bringing me here, he turns and takes my hand looking earnestly into my eyes. Maybe this means he isn't angry at me anymore.

Don't thank me just yet I say, taking a step off the sidewalk. I feel something squish beneath the heel of my sneaker.

Agh! I cry out and look down and see I've stepped on a dead seagull who's guts are splashed across the hot asphalt, it's hollow eye socket staring up into the afternoon sun. Flies buzz hungrily above it's mangled carcass and white feathers matted with sticky dark blood.

I recoil sharply and draw in a breath looking down into the creature's dark eye, hollow and departed.

Fwah! David exclaims fanning the air in front of his masked face, startling me out of my rumination.

We walk a few feet back the way we came when I see a tall, dark wood fence wet like driftwood newly driven ashore. I think this is it, I say pushing through the dark wood and into a neatly manicured yard.

I open the door to the small apartment and rip off my light purple face mask and toss it on a table beneath what looks like a 60 inch flat screen television. David trudges in behind me, sighing dramatically.

Can you get one of these bags for me, Max? he lifts the heavy white luggage over the threshold. I grab his black backpack and matching camera bag off the top of the suitcase and place them on a nearby dining table. David wheels the suitcase close to a bookshelf across from the open door. I sit to untie my sneakers.

Shut the screen, I yip, we don't want bugs in here.

I swiftly slide the screen shut and close the front door for emphasis. I feel David's annoyance at my command permeating the air around me but decide not to play into it. I don't want to spoil our vacation with another argument.