Blown Away [A Short Love Story]

Image Credit: © Lucas Sankey, under CC0 license @ Unsplash

Blue smoke filled his lungs. Ben exhaled in a sharp, downward blast so it wouldn’t blow back in his face. A gust caught the smoke and drove it deep into the weave of his blue-denim bomber jacket. The coastal wind, unusually chilly for late June, pulled at the fabric as he drew it tight around his chest.

The tempest tugged at his dirty blond hair. It picked up a piece of newspaper and slammed the sheet at his chest. It pelted his face with sand. It shoved him backward as he struggled to keep walking forward.

He had fled from the city to the edge of the beach for a walk in solitude. Ben shouted at that damned wind. “Can’t you see I just want to be left alone?” Salt spray stung his lips.

That’s what Charlotte did, geez, almost a month ago. She left him alone. There was no warning. It was like she just flipped out. Her hands tore at his clothes and pulled at his hair. Her fists pounded on his chest and pushed him away. Her shrill voice howled like the wind, and then she ran out the door, leaving him in stunned silence.

In one, chaotic frenzy, Hurricane Charlotte turned Ben’s world upside down.

But the wind wouldn’t leave him alone and be still, and stillness was what he craved. No more fighting, no more struggle, and, dammit, no more drama. I just want peace and quiet. Ben scrubbed his hand across his jaw. Whiskers prickled his fingertips. What was the point of shaving now that she was gone?

Charlotte had shredded his heart and left it bleeding on the floor. That raw wound made it an all too easy decision for Ben to shut down. He vowed to never again do the tango everyone called love. He needed lead feet, or concrete ones that couldn’t dance. Of course, the added weight his mind had strapped to his boots made it more of a chore to plod through the wind.

They came upon him from behind. Joggers, a pack of women in brightly colored sports gear, chatting happily between deep breaths. They didn’t seem to have to fight against the wind, Ben thought. A few chirped out greetings as they swirled around him. Finally, the last one trotted by. She laughed and called back to him, “What a wind! It’ll sure shake loose whatever ails you.”

“She’s got to be kidding,” he muttered. To Ben, the constant push and shush of the gale was pounding him into the ground.

Charlotte would understand what she meant. He remembered how she loved the wind in her long, golden hair when they went sailing. She would laugh, and her full lips would curl into the most enticing smile. Her eyes would catch the sun and shine like sapphires. Charlotte would raise her arms, open herself to the breeze, and let it caress her curvy body. “It frees my soul,” she once told him.

As the women disappeared down the shore, the wind carried their laughter and banter back to him. Ben thought of tinkling wind chimes, and the softness of the sound made him smile. The softness of Charlotte’s touch used to make him smile. “I miss you, babe. Why’d you have to leave?” She hadn’t given him a reason, at least not one that made much sense to him. That was the worst part, the not knowing.

The squawks of a flock of passing gulls drowned out all other sounds and pulled Ben from his reverie.

The wind raged on as Ben fought to make progress. The bully pestered and persisted, buffeting him about. So he stopped and raised his arms.

“Give me an effing break,” he begged. The wind ignored his plea, tore at his lapels and spread his coat like a sail. Then gave him a good shake and a little bit of a lift.

An unfamiliar lightness caught Ben’s attention; he felt different inside somehow. Empty, but full at the same time. The new sensation made him nervous. He hesitated, then he threw his arms out wide and laughed out loud. It was a deep, hearty laugh, just like Charlotte’s.

God, she’s something special. “I love you, Char. I always will.” No matter what she had done; no matter what he had done.

Ben spun around to look back at the city. The wind caught him again and gave him a good shove, back toward home.

Joy bubbled up from a forgotten wellspring deep in Ben’s soul. His heart split open wide. Searing pain sliced through him, but it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Is this what they mean by ‘hurts so good’? he wondered.

In an instant, that damned, relentless wind turned warm and blew new life into him, pushing him forward to a new start, a new love. He could almost make out a name in the whispers of the wind. Ben knew she was waiting for him, somewhere.

He started to run. Then he felt his feet rise off the ground. And he began to fly.

Image Credit: Andrew Spencer, under CC0 license @ Unsplash