Tranquility.

“What was that?”

Three simple words from my mouth had awoken Katya’s sleepy eyes. We were seated at the kitchen table, resting, having returned from songs on the beach, when I heard a sound from out the front of the beach house. A moment of silenced passed after it before Katya, drifting away in her seat, was suddenly up, frantic.

“My parents.” She said shocked.

“They’re here?” I was instantly up too, the unforeseen arrival bringing me to my feet with haste. Before I knew what was happening Katya had disappeared into the front room with the pool table. I followed her quickly to find her peeking through the window looking out frontward.

“Shit.” She spoke as I approached. “Pack your stuff, we’ve got to go.” She turned to me wide-eyed and panicked. I was slow to react, still intrigued by what was outside.

“Is it your parents?” I asked as I got closer.

“It’s my Dad’s car!” she exclaimed before turning back to the window and eyeing outward again. I was now behind her with my hand resting on her shoulder, looking over her head. Parked next to my Ford was a Porsche. A fucking PORSCHE! Cleaner than church with the sun shining off its cool silver framing. Exiting the vehicle was her Dad. Steven. The same guy I’d seen leaving her house. The same guy that had made her cry. An instant hatred burned within me hotter than en engine, fueling me. From in front, below me, Katya spoke again. “What the fuck?”

Then she exploded, rising up furiously, the rush of air caused whipping over my face, she screamed like I’d heard her do when arguing with her father earlier in the week: “That fucking bastard!” She went to the door and flung it open, moving to step outside. I was losing myself trying to keep up with her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked dumbly. We weren’t meant to be here, what could be more wrong?

“You bastard!” Katya screamed as I followed her through the door and she violently approached her father whom had just stepped out of his vehicle. He looked dumbfounded, like a deer in headlights. She went right up to him, staring him in the eye as I stopped. Should I get involved? I wondered. The tension of confrontation beginning to surround me, I relapsed and went silent, allowing Katya to take control. “Who is she?” Katya fired. It was then that I saw what had aggravated her so. Sitting in the passenger seat as struck as Steven, was a woman. A young woman. Not Katya’s mum, I guessed. My eyes fixed on her while hers were on the argument. Staring a hole into her forehead, eventually she noticed me. Blonde with wide blue eyes, a young white face sheltered in make-up and adorned in professional dress, she was the epitome of a mistress. A trophy fuck. I watched her with complete disdain, hating every fiber in her body. She had to know the guy was married. She had to know she was ruining someone’s marriage. Did that mean nothing to her? She was just so fucking self-absorbed that to her, it didn’t matter, I thought.

A backdrop to our locked eyes was the ensuing dispute between Katya and her father.

“What are you doing here?” his voice barked angrily. “Who is that?” he asked, I guessed meaning me, feeling instantly uncomfortable at being involved. Back and forth screaming and exasperation, then through my line of vision went Katya, storming straight to the passenger side window, sour lips forming words of ice-cold anger. She was bashing on the window with such force I was amazed it didn’t break. Inside the vehicle the blonde cowering, trying to move away from the glass panes, she looked so frenetic and frightened and innocent, and as I was frozen watching all of this unfold, Steven entered the frame, grabbing Katya in restraint, probably in defense of his car more than the woman. His hands on Katya, I lost it. Flying into an uncontrollable rage, before I knew what was going on, I’d ripped Steven off her and thrown him onto the hood of his Porsche. My hands tightly clasping his collar, pushing him down, my primal instincts to protect those dear to me had taken over. Once again I’d been thrust into confrontation, not a violent person, a weird sensation flowed through me as my small frame held Steven’s larger one down. Losing it, I could have killed him if I was left with him long enough. Maybe I would have, but as I stared into his petrified eyes, ready to hit him, I felt Katya’s arms around me. She pulled me off him strongly, separating me from the man, and my rage. I was still furious, but now restrained. Looking to Katya as her father pried himself off the bonnet and straightened himself out, she was my voice of reason. Incensed though she was, she had regained her composure.

“Don’t. There’s no point.” Hey eyes were pleading. “Don’t fight him.” I glanced quickly at the man who was moving to the other side of his expensive vehicle. Still burning with rage, if it wasn’t for Katya’s desperate pupils I likely would have continued the assault, but she controlled me. Her eyes and words calming, her song illuminating the darkness filling me. “Let’s just go.” She said and turned, walking toward the house again. Watching as she went, a sense of hopelessness took over me. There was no effectively good way of dealing with this situation, and this is what Katya had dealt with every day of her life. As she opened the door and stepped back into the house, hunched and somber, I followed her in much the same vein, never turning back to face her wretched father. What was the point?

So I re-entered, going straight into the kitchen. Katya told me to pack quickly. She just wanted to get out of there. I did too. The tranquility of the sand and the water had been efficiently bulldozed by the rich, city prick. The air was suddenly unclean and riddled with distractions. So I packed as fast I could. Picking up my bag and throwing stray clothes into it, venturing hastily into Katya’s room to grab my poetry notebook. Thinking I had everything, yet possessing that unnerving feeling in the back of my mind that I’d forgotten something, I went to the kitchen where Katya was waiting, luggage in one hand, Maton in the other.

“Got everything?” She asked, trying to sound normal but obviously shaken.

“Think so.” I responded quickly, realizing just how much she wanted out. “Let’s go.” And we did. We left the house, bags in hand. From my pocket I fished out my keys and we headed straight to my car, never looking at Steven, whom, from what I heard was explaining the whole situation and justifying himself to his blonde mistress. We loaded our stuff in the back and quickly got in. Suddenly we were moving, Katya in the driver’s seat taking us away. Suddenly we were gone, and we were both silent, no music playing. We were half an hour away from the house when I realised I’d forgotten the notebook I’d spent the whole holiday writing in.