Down On Crimson Beach Where I Lost My Love So Many Years Ago... | 2nd Writer's Contest Of The Project Milkbox

We met on Crimson Beach where the red crabs wash up in the summer of '72. It is one of two days that burn in my memory like the marks of a red-hot branding iron. That first day when our eyes locked and we held each other's gaze brought a jolt of surprise. It was a sweet yet painful, almost flesh searing mark she left on my soul. The second scorching memory is of the day she disappeared without a trace.

From that moment on, I knew freedom was nothing more than an illusion dreamed up by lonely men. No amount of foresight could have spared me from the bindings that wrapped around my heart when I met Maria. Nor could they prepare me for a life of ownership without a master.

With A Casting Net & Sand On My Feet

 
Crimson Beach was within walking distance from my small cozy shack of a house. When the tide was right at the beginning of summer the red crabs would float in and cover the beach. They came in what seemed like the millions, so that red would meet blue as it stretched from the sand to the ocean.

I was always a bit happier when the red crabs showed up. They made an incredibly tasty meal and the fact they were free made me think I would have more money. Perhaps they did allow me to save enough to buy that casting net, the one I was using that morning when Maria happened to be walking by.

 
It was still early that morning, though the sun had come up, with no more than a handful of people walking the miles of beach. People tended to avoid the beach when the red crab appeared. They came in so thick some days that a person could barely walk without crushing them. I learned that by shuffling my feet, I could scoot them out of the way. And once I reached the water, it was much easier to maneuver.

Maria Came Skipping And Hopping Along, Trying To Miss Each Crab

 
I noticed her out of the corner of my eye as I was preparing to throw out my cast net. There was no way to not pay attention. Her timid yet graceful step made me cut short a burst of laughter. As I tried to cover my stare, my mind numbed at her simple movements. I felt stupid and knew instantly that she was the sexiest woman I ever laid eyes on.

The awareness that Maria's path headed directly to my position caused my head to turn away. I felt her approach as if a kettle was about to boil and scream it's shrill of readiness to the world. Her proximity brought the feeling of a wave that suspends a boat for seconds before carrying it willfully on its way. I couldn't speak or turn around, but she did in the softest voice.

 
“What are you trying to catch?”

I swear I jumped about a foot in the air. She might have sounded off an air horn and had a lesser effect. I finally turned to meet her and was able to stammer out the following words.

“I um uh, I'm uh, trying to, uh....”. Then my mind grasped a straw. I pulled a red crab from off my net, held it up with a smile, and said...

“Red Crabs!!!”

We Were Inseparable All Summer Long

 
For Maria and I, there were no first date jitters or blissful kisses after walking a girl to her front door. These nuances of culture passed us by in the moments our eyes first met. When my memory of Maria rises above the pain, I like to believe that she belonged to me as much as I belonged to her.

Our love for each other started strong and our lovemaking did too. I feared it would wear off for her after the first couple weeks, but her attachment to me seemed to grow stronger as did mine for her. We spent that summer together in the kind of way that makes other people almost a distraction. I can't even recall the friends or acquaintances in my life at that time. We seemed to share a world created just for us.

 
As the summer days began to thin out and a touch of autumn filled the air, I could no longer imagine a life without her. In the short span of several weeks, Maria had become my everything. I was ready to move mountains for her at the drop of a word.

And Then She Was Gone

 
Of this part, I can't tell you much. I wish and have wished for years that I had the slightest clue. Maria didn't have family that she spoke of, and we never really got around to talking about it. I sensed it was a difficult subject for her to broach and I didn't care to press her about it.

In the following months after Maria disappeared, I did track down the few friends I knew of. They didn't seem to know any more about her history than I did, nor did she tell any of them where she was headed. Did someone take her? Was this her M.O. to love a guy and leave him? I couldn't tell you if she left or if something bad happened to her. All I know is that one day her car was gone and most of her few belongings. The police found no sign of foul play and advised me that she had probably just left town.

I walk along the sand on Crimson Beach sometimes, though the red crabs haven't been back for many years. The red landscape that met whitewash as it fell into a blue ocean no longer exists. It lives on in my heart as the image of Maria and all her beauty slowly fades away. I can barely make out her face in my memory these days, but that feeling of her love still burns its brand into my soul.

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