REPLAY

By C. S. Foerster

She knew what the telegram from Michael would say before she read it. Phil was dead and she was alive and that was all that mattered now.

Michael was on his way to her. He said so in the telegram--or did she imagine it?

Her mind drifted--just thoughts…what was it Phil said? Her thoughts had become muddled bits and pieces on some mental highway to nowhere.

She put on her bathing suit and sat on the white sand beach. She thought she'd take a dip in the ocean if it got warmer, yet all the locals knew that the water was always too cold no matter how hot the sun. She rested in a beach chair, and watched behind dark glasses the late afternoon sun as it played hide and seek behind fast moving clouds.

The retreat cottage was Philip's idea. Dana remembered now, it was a hot July day, many years ago. Philip had suggested a drive. After several hours, he stopped in front of the small white painted cottage and said, "Well, What do you think? It's ours."

The cottage off the ocean was one of a dozen that sparsely lined the ocean highway. The front door to the cottage faced the road. A large enclosed porch wrapped around the place. It had a small private parking at the far right of the property. She was pleased to see Michael smiling, leaning against his car there. She remembered following Philip to the porch. The whole left side and back of the porch revealed a panoramic view of sandy beach that bent gently toward the ocean until it joined the sky, blue against blue.

For years, it had been their special place but things changed. The cottage became Philip's place to work and her place to convalesce, from what Philip coined, her nervous condition . At first, these times of separate activity were shared at the retreat. As time wore on, not even the separate activities were shared under the same roof. Times at the retreat became time scheduled and spend apart.

You said you'd love me, Philip…till death do us part, her disjointed mind sang to her.

"Liar!" she spat.

Her thoughts were shattered by the sound of familiar steps as they sank into the sand.

“Phil?” she said without looking. “It's my turn at the retreat.”

The footsteps stopped.

She repeated anxiously, “Phil?” and turned to face Michael.

He looked at her a moment then sat beside her. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“It's nothing. You're not disturbing me,” she answered. “Phil's turn was last week. Did you know that ?” Her expression froze darkly, and then changed to a smile. ”Is Phil with you?”

Michael felt ill at easy. Her eyes appeared large and vacant of expression. He tried to sit away from their gaze without success.

“Why didn't you answer the phone?" Michael asked. "I was forced to send you a telegram. Didn't you get my telegram?” he persisted. “The man at the motel across the road said he gave it to you.”

She looked at the sea and said, “Remember how Phil would run after me. He'd always catch me, but that was because I'd let him catch me. Did you know that? He'd catch me and hold me…"

"That was a long time ago Dana…."

"Those were good days," she said ignoring him as she stared at the waves breaking on the shore. "We were such crazy kids, weren't we Michael? Did you like the red dress…?" Dana's expression hardened as her voice drifted into whispers.

"What red dress? What are you talking about…?"

Michael spotted the crushed telegram at her side and repeated, ”My telegram--Dana did you read it? Understand it?”

She began to shudder convulsively. Michael instinctively pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair as if she were a helpless child and said, “Cry. That's a good girl. You need to cry.” He led her back to the cabin. Her dry face turned and touched his cheek for an instant, "Good bye" she whispered and disappeared into the cottage.

Michael remained on the screened porch to smoke a cigarette. He wondered if she ever learned the truth about the cottage. He remembered warning Phil that Dana was not dim-witted. The last time he saw Philip, he convinced him to tell Dana about the divorce--and Marilyn.

Michael crushed his third cigarette on the wooden railing and stepped into the cottage. “Are you okay, Dana?” he called out.

Dana reappeared from the kitchen in an apron. “Sure, I'm okay. Now, call your buddy in from the beach for drinks. I'm going to make you a surprise dinner."

Michael stood in the doorway stunned.

Dana impatiently brushed passed Michael and called out the front door, “Phil! Drinks and dinner! Table in five minutes!”

She gave Michael an annoyed look and returned to the kitchen.

Michael watched her return with silverware for three. He felt nauseated as he watched her set the table. He craved another cigarette.

As she finished, she suddenly got angry. Her face flushed. She worded frustrated whispers to shadowed images only she could see. "You can't do this you can't do this…" she repeated rapidity in a voice he did not know. " You betrayed me. Both of you betrayed me. Now, you are one in sin against me. One in sin…"

Michael recoiled at her odd incoherence. He did not recognize his old friend in the women before him. He felt the heat of her eyes again, strange; empty as they followed his slow approached to the front door.

"I told you not to leave until we talk this through Philip!" she said holding out her hands to him.

“I think I'll go for a walk,” Michael said trying to sound casual.

“I'm warning you Philip!” Her voice was sharp and flat, her face white.

“Phil?” Michael repeated as he suddenly, unconsciously, approached her to hold her. “Honey, I know this must be a shock, but Phil is dead. Didn't you understand my telegram? The accident near your house…a hit-and-run. I don't understand why Philip was on foot in the road…"

Michael's words were cut through and silenced by Dana who resisted his touch. She retreated to a corner of the room, concealed by nightfall's shadow. A sliver of faded sunlight revealed her eerie blank stare. “You can't do this to me!” she said.

Michael horrified by her twisted expression, backed away from her and pushing his way out the front door.

He started to walk. He left his car in the driveway. He told himself that he would startle her if she heard his car leave--or was it that his hands and thoughts were shaking too much to drive? He had forgotten his cell phone. He started to follow the beach to the pay phone a quarter of a mile up the road. He would call the village doctor to come to the cottage. He couldn't handle her alone.

After he had been on the beach road for a few minutes, the cottage out of sight, he reprimanded himself for being frightened. Then something Dana had said suddenly registered and a vision of events flooded his memory.

It was last weekend. Philip had invited him to the cottage for drinks. He found Philip on the beach lounge with a woman. Philip waved him over and introduced Marilyn, his fiancée. The conversation soon led to Philip yelling he'd no longer cope with Dana's erratic behavior. He was going to commit her and be done with it. Philip was loud and drunk. Michael recalled thinking all the big talk was for Marilyn's benefit. Philip and Marilyn were dressed for dinner. He begged off from joining… He remembered commenting on Marilyn's red….

Michael literally tripped landing on the hot sand and tar road. As he got back to his feet, he whispered, "The red dress. Marilyn's red dress. Dana was there. She heard everything from the back porch. He had thought he saw a shadow at the screen while they were talking on the beach. She must have heard about the divorce, the sanitarium, and Marilyn. Was she there long enough to hear his pleads on her behalf? Seeing them together like that--did she think there was a conspiracy against her? Would she ever understand he was on her side?"

The telephone booth was a few feet before him. He felt in his pocket for change. He heard a car behind him. It accelerated. He whirled about just in time to see Dana's old Lincoln convertible barreling down upon him. It was over in seconds.

***

Dana watched the body fly off her hood and thud as it smashed on the tar-paved road. She glanced at her rear view mirror to verify the kill. The body was motionless.

"One in sin--one in death!” she mouthed.