A Beach for My Bed - Part II

The second part of a three-part story about a man plagued by so much guilt, he runs away from his family. As he wrestles with nothing, his life changes when he meets Louise. Can she save him?

Part I can be found here: A Beach for My Bed.

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A figure in a blue uniform appeared around the corner. He froze. His worst fears, the police had finally caught up with him, and now he would have to face his family again.

After all, he had put up with it for the last 6 weeks, and it had come to this: caught in a shower block because of the rain.

As the figure approached, he realized it was not the police. He felt some relief, but he still did not know who this person was or how they knew who he was.

Did they know his secret?

Did they know his past?

“Brian?” asked the voice again in a quizzical tone. “Are you Brian?”

Their eyes met in the half-light of morning against the backdrop of grey skies and dark clouds.

“My name is Henry, and I work with the Salvation Army. Why do you come with me?”

We’ll get you a hot shower, something decent to eat, and a nice change of clothes.”

“How does that sound, Brian? No one will hurt you. I just want to help.”

The offer seemed too good to be true.

“How did you find …?” he started to ask but before he could finish, Louise came around the corner. She was crying but still managed to smile, which was like gold to Brian.

“I am sorry, Brian, but I could not let you stay out in this weather any longer. Whatever has happened to you can be sorted out.”

“I had to tell Henry about you.”

“I had to do something. Please go with him, Brian; he is here to help you.”

Brian slumped back down on the ground. How could someone be so caring and so concerned about him?

How could this lady he barely knew have done such a beautiful thing?

Perhaps there is God after all, he thought.

A stream of sunlight burst through a break in the clouds and lit up the toilet block.

It focused on Brian, slumped on the floor — a disheveled, downtrodden mess of a man.

He looked up from his feet, turned to Louise, and said, “Truly, you must be an angel. Thank you for saving me.”

“I will be back and will pay you for the coffee. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Louise smiled back as Henry helped Brian to his feet, and the three walked back to the car park toward Henry’s car.

She grabbed his dirty hand. “It is going to be alright, Brian.”

Brian did not know what to expect. He was scared, but he was more tired and hungry than scared, and he felt so dirty. He could not go on living like this anymore.

For three months, Brian had called the beach his bed. He was starting to get a bit jaded about it. Had it not been for Henry, he would have given up.

He had thought about ways he could end his life.

Henry ran a homeless shelter for the Salvation Army and organized for Brian to spend time at the refuge working odd jobs and helping with meals. In exchange, he got food and a shower.

More importantly, it occupied his mind, so he did not have to think about the situation he had gotten himself into.

Late in the evenings, when the beach was quiet, he would return and set up his tent and sleeping bag. He had become quite good at this, which usually only took 15 minutes.

He would lie awake in his tent, listening to the waves, wondering what was next for him. He had no solutions, but he knew then when summer arrived, he would not be able to sleep here. Perhaps by some miracle, a bed would be available at the refuge.

He dismissed these thoughts; that was a problem for another day.

He started thinking about his wife Janine, his son Luke, and his daughter Emily. He missed them all, and the guilt that he had deserted them ate away at his soul, paralyzing him.

He justified it by saying to himself that they were better off without him, at least until he had come to peace with himself for what he had done.

The wind blew up and whistled through the opening in his tent, distracting him. Later in the night, it would rain; he could feel it in his bones. He loved the sound of the rain but didn’t like it much when it seeped into his tent.

At some point, while pondering his life, he drifted off to sleep but was woken by the sound of heavy rain on his tarpaulin. He figured it must be early morning.

Soon, it would be daylight, and he would have to be up and out. He hoped the rain would stop long enough for him to pack his stuff.

Louise would soon be arriving with her coffee truck. She always arrived about an hour before sunrise to set up and warm up her coffee machine, which took at least 45 minutes.

He felt so much better now that he could pay for his morning coffee from her. Henry, who ran the shelter, somehow got the money as further compensation for his job at the refuge. At least, that is what Louise had told him.

She never asked him about his past; she accepted him, for which he was grateful. He knew Louise was still worried about him because she always checked to see if he was okay. He somehow felt that Louise knew more than she let on.

The rain was easing, and daylight was breaking through the clouds.

It was time to get up and get organized.

It was daylight now but still dark because of the rain clouds that hovered ominously above him. Brian was packing up his belongings as quickly as he could, fearing that the skies would open at any moment.

He was again thinking about his family. Today was a special day — July 14, Emily’s birthday. She would be 17, and he wondered if they still had the family dinner at Marco’s, like they had done every birthday for the last seven years, or if she would be out with her friends.

Suddenly, he heard a scream. Again, he heard it.

“Get away, leave me alone, get away.”

It was coming from the car park. He immediately thought of Louise. He dropped what he was doing, grabbed the remains of the old golf club he had found on the beach that he kept, just in case, and took off.

He eased his way to the top of the path; no one had seen him yet. He crouched down. It was Louise. Three youths had surrounded her coffee truck. Parked next to her coffee truck was a hotted-up four-wheel drive. Brian surmised that it must belong to one of them.

One of them threw all her sugar and stirrers on the front of the window onto the ground.

“Bitch, you will pay for spilling my coffee. Drag her over here Jacko! Let’s teach her a lesson.”

The one called Jacko moved to the back of the truck and yanked at the door.