Lula

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Oblivious of the unseasonable chill in the air, Lula, shoulders hunched, trudged down the beach, her long brown hair billowing, tangling in the wind. Settling down to wait, she sat in the sand, arms clasped around her knees, the roar of the surf in her ears.
Every evening since Michael’s disappearance, Lula came and sat until darkness began to fall, then despondently made her way home. It was the place she felt closest to him, this moody, almost sinister stretch of the west coast. They had both loved its variations –- angry and threatening one day -- calm and inviting the next.

Lula’s parents always tried to dissuade her from coming, ever aware of the dangers, but they couldn’t keep her away. She knew that though they sympathised with her loss they felt it was time she began taking an interest in living again. Trouble was she couldn’t imagine any kind of a life without Michael. He was everything to her, her reason for living.

This evening, tears in her eyes, her mother had begged, “Please don’t go love, Michael’s dead…drowned. He’s not coming back. You must accept that; you’re making yourself ill.” Her father said nothing. He didn’t need to. His pleading gaze said it all.
Lula was too choked up to answer. Why was everyone so sure he was dead? His body had never been found. They said he’d been washed away by a freak wave, but the sea had been unusually calm that day. She’d been with him on the beach, walking a little ahead of him, and had seen nothing unusual – one minute he was there behind her – and when she looked back again he was gone.

Not wanting to worry her parents she’d never tried to explain the strange compulsion that took her again and again to the beach. She lacked the strength to fight it. It was as if Michael was trying to communicate with her and she had an overwhelming feeling he was nearby. People already doubted her sanity so it was best to say nothing to anyone. It was Michael who first shortened her name from Louella to Lula. It caught on among all her friends and family. But now, sadly, she was becoming known as Loopy Lula.
Tonight was the anniversary of Michael’s disappearance and she felt his presence stronger than ever. She was sure he was coming for her. He’d better hurry for the shadows were lengthening and soon it would be dark.
“Lu..laa….”
Was that his voice, or was it just the wind? Lula stood up and began walking towards the incoming tide. “Michael…,” she called gazing out to sea. She thought she caught a glimpse of him.
“Lu…laaa… Lu…laaaa….”
“Mi…chael….”
Skreek! A lone seagull circled overhead. Skreek, skreeeek!
Darkness was falling fast, but yes, there he was in the distance, riding a wave.
“Michael!” Lula smiled wading out to meet him. Further and further she went, deeper and deeper till at last she felt his loving arms enfold her.

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