I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable; the hard edge of the wooden stool jutting into my bone. I’d lost so much weight…running for miles and barely eating. 

Malibu in the summer. Nobu. Sequestered over in the corner of the bar. I didn’t want to see anyone, wasn’t even quite sure tonight would be the night. Until I heard the steady crush of angry sea outside; waves high and furious. Insistent.

I surveyed the room…colorful locals, a few minor “celebrities” models, drug dealers (coke mostly), and my eyes landed on my husband of 20 years, my Max.​

​“What?” in response to my stare

​“Nothing,” I smiled at him. Sad.

I was so tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of Max seeing me sad. It was exhausting. This charade.

I took his face in both of my hands, squeezed his cheeks. Ohhow I loved those Irish cheeks! He gently took my hands and removed them.

​“I’m getting another bourbon. Are you good?” he motioned with his chin to my half glass of champagne. 

​“I’d like another, please.” I downed it the glass in front of me, Dom. Always Dom Perigone by the glass at Nobu.

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. His cheeks, thick salt and pepper brows, and that cleft chin, I was staring again, I wanted to commit it, a forever snapshot in my head as I traveled into the next life. Because that is where I was going. Tonight. 

As if on cue, a loud explosion of surf banged against the outdoor deck.

​I was prepared, earlier in the day, out for my run along the beach, blonde ponytail bobbing, Kristin Hannah’s magnificent novel “The Great Alone” on my ipod, bare feet digging into the rough Malibu sand (nothing like my dad’s siesta key sand…I mused), and my mind drifted to him, the day he died. Skeletal in a fetal position on the bed. A diaper. Fucking bitch left him lying like that. Proudest, most private human I knew, and she had him splayed out, so we could all see what she had to deal with. Poor Anna. Put upon, forever victimized because her husband was sick. 

​I felt my breathing quicken and pumped my arms faster. I hated her. And the image of dad, it wouldn’t go away…his eyes sunken, pleading, gripping my hand. 

​The sting of salt leaking out of my eyes…now, as I maneuvered along the shore, tide rising and the sand disappearing into the Pacific ocean, glorious, iridescent andcerulean blue. 

​I stopped, caught my breath, wiped the tears from my cheeks and rubbed my eyes. Further up the beach a bit, the beautiful people spilled out onto the deck at Nobu and the Soho house and directly under them, in between the pilings, sat my Madison shopping bag, filled with heavy rocks I had collected earlier, prior to my run. Tucked away, out of sight, yet accessible enough for when I would need to access them.

​Unlike some women, I was never bothered by Max’s ‘looking’ – I didn’t feel threatened or compromised. In truth, it gave me opportunity to escape into myself. His eyes roamed the bar. I watched him. Sensing my intrusion, he squirmed and got to his feet.

​“Going to the bathroom,” he uttered under his breath, tight no lip smile.

I nod and smile. 

And watch him as he weaves his way through the crowd and out of sight.

I think of the rocks waiting for me and pull down on the fabric lining the large pockets on either side of the shapeless sundress.

​“What IS that?” he had asked when he caught sight of what I was wearing for the night, the new Roberta Roller Rabbit Shift with the deep lined side pockets.

​“What’s what?” I asked knowing full well.

​“Honey, we’re going to Nobu – it’s summer in Malibu and your body out rocks most 20 year olds so…

“…it’s new and its actually pretty hip. And it’s not sticking to my body. It’s 95 degrees out.”

“Okay,” he nods. Resigned, And that about sums it up. Max would never have given up on this. 

Before.

I catch the bartender’s eye and ask for another glass of Dom, downing the one in front of me.

Glass in hand I head out to the back patio and down the steps to the beach. 

Spot lights strategically placed to accent the crush of the waves and the moon, spectacular tonight, just short of full – fat and luminous light bouncing off the waves.

Under the pilings it’s damp and dark. I squat down and reach my hand up in between the sea wall, feel for the bag and drag it towards me.