The Sun Princess

Brad liked to run in the heat of the day. Anyone could take a leisurely three-mile jog down the beach in the cool of the night, but it took a little more fortitude to make the run at three thirty in the afternoon with the summer sun beating down on your body like a furious one-eyed ogre. He also avoided the hard sand near the water’s edge, preferring to struggle in the soft sand further up. Most of the time, there was at least a strong, salty breezy coming off the ocean to cool a man's sweat as he pushed himself down the beach, but today the air was oddly still. It enveloped Brad like a lobster in a boiling cauldron. It was just the kind of day Brad loved best.

He ran bare-chested and without shoes. The sand was hot enough to blister skin, but his feet had grown used to these conditions. They were calloused as thick as leather and the hot sand only presented another challenge to his exercise. He wore a plain black pair of swim-trunks and a tattered USA baseball cap that had traveled many miles with him. He’d owned it for the entire ten years of his marriage to Julia. A year later, he still could hardly think of hear without an awful sensation of hopelessness.

Sweat stung his eyes and it was useless to wipe it away with his hands, which were soaked with sweat as well. He blinked through the sweat and looked up the beach towards the pier that was his destination. He judged it must still be a couple of miles away. He knew he'd be good and fatigued when he got there. He’d gone for a run last year on this date as well, but he hadn’t pushed himself like he was doing now.

He knew he was going to think of that night all over again. But he didn’t want to. He tried to still his mind against it.

'Concentrate only on placing one foot in front of the other,' he told himself. 'There is no need to think of anything but the moment.' But his mind would not obey. His thoughts had a mind of their own. There was nothing to do but relive it all over again.

********************

He knew she'd been having a spell that night, but he hadn't guessed how serious it was. If he had, he would not have left her home alone. That's what he'd tried to tell himself ever since at least. But he knew the truth. The truth was that he knew exactly how bad of a spell she was having. He'd left that night to get away from her. He'd snuck out of bed to do it. Her depression had stifled him like a wave, even thicker than the heat that enveloped him now. She’d radiated a thick hopelessness that he found maddening and incomprehensible. The truth was that it made him feel helpless, and helplessness made him angry.

'How could she be so depressed', he asked himself. 'Wasn't he a good husband? Didn't he love her with all his heart? Why couldn't she let him make her happy?'

He'd heard her crying in bed at nine o'clock that night over the baseball game he was watching in the living room. A part of him wanted to ignore her tears. He knew from experience that she was inconsolable. He'd been through it all before. But he couldn't ignore her. Maybe other men could have, but he couldn't. His wife was in need of comfort and he had to go to her.

He went to their bedroom and climbed under the covers beside her. He turned and spooned with her just like they used to when they were happy newlyweds. Her sobs relented a little and Brad was encouraged.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I can't give you children and I know that's what you really want. What good am I if I can't give you children? You should find another wife. I'm no good for you!"

There was anguish in her voice, but Brad could not sympathize with her. It was true he wanted children, and it was true that the fact her body had not produced one was a source of friction in their marriage. But it was far from a deal-breaker for Brad. He'd rather have a childless wife who was happy than one who tormented herself over contrived sins.

"Baby, don't worry about that," he said. "I love you. I want you. You're all that really matters to me."

His response must not have been what she was looking for because all it seemed to create were fresh sobs. For an hour, he lay beside her as she cried herself to sleep. He looked up at the ceiling feeling angry and helpless. When he'd married her ten years ago, he had not bargained for this. Yes, he knew she'd had issues with her moods even then, but they had worsened with time. She was still as beautiful as always, the envy of every man he met with his wife beside him, but none of them knew the truth about her. None of them would have wanted to trade places with him now when his wife wallowed in misery and he lay beside her, angry and helpless.

Finally, he rolled away from her, put on his running shorts and shoes and kissed his sleeping wife good-bye.

"Where are you going?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"To the beach to run. I need to get some air. I'm feeling restless."

"You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"No," he lied. "I couldn't be mad at you."

"Yes, you are."

He didn't argue the point with her.

"I love you," he said. Then he left.

************************

He brought himself back to the present, not wanting to remember the rest of that night quite yet. The pier must have been only about a mile away now. He was already breathing hard. This run was going to take him right to the breaking point, he realized. He hadn't run this hard in a very long time. He'd always liked to challenge himself, to see what his body and spirit were capable of. But today, he knew there was more to his exertions. He was trying to outrun his guilt and his own demons. He wanted to exorcise them once and for all.

He didn't want to recall the rest of that night quite yet. He wanted to think of happier times.

*****************************

He remembered how he had drawn in his breath the first time he'd seen her. That was a summer day at the beach as well. But it hadn't been this beach. It was in Virginia Beach while he was stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. He'd been running on that day too: running with an untroubled mind. His life had been simple in those days. Be a Marine. Do the things a Marine does: workout, eat, and sleep. That was what his life consisted of. But there was still a hole in him. His life was hollow. He knew it too, but was at a loss as to what to do about it except grunt out a healthy Marine hoo-ra and keep his mind on his business.

He'd been running down the beach enjoying his uncomplicated, but not quite fulfilling life when a frisbee struck him in the head. He turned in the direction of the assault and immediately assumed a combat stance as he was trained to do when he saw that the attacker was likely less than dangerous.

At least not dangerous in the conventional way. Everyone knew that a beautiful woman was intrinsically dangerous. The setting sun was behind her. He had to squint to see her clearly, but he didn't have to strain his eyes to know he liked what he saw. She was wearing a man's long sleeve shirt over an aqua bikini. The shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a flawless body. But it was her fire-red hair that dazzled him. It blew behind her in the breeze like a starched flag and Brad thought she looked like a goddess; not a tame one like Aphrodite, but more like Diana, the wild and free goddess of the hunt.

She was standing ten yards away with her hand over her mouth and a worried expression. Her Golden Retriever picked up the Frisbee that had caromed off his head and dropped it obediently at her feet.

"I'm sorry, Mister!" she yelled. "The wind caught it!"

Brad approached her, smirking. He knew a golden opportunity when he saw one. He could tell she was still nervous, unsure of his intentions. He played along, grimacing and rubbing an imaginary knot on his head. He had no idea what he was going to say until he stood in front of her.

His first line was less than smooth.

"That really hurt," he said. Then he could think of nothing else and only stood there, intimidated by her beauty, awkward and shy.

"Sorry," she said. She looked down at her dog. "Tell him you're sorry, Sarah."

Sarah obediently barked an apology and Brad had to laugh. He knelt and gave Sarah a belly rub.

"She's a good girl, yes she is such a good girl," Brad cooed as he rubbed the dog.

When he stood up again, the girl was smiling and her eyes had softened. He saw her really look at him for the first time.

"You're a Marine, aren't you?" she said.

"Guilty," he admitted. The high and tight gave it away every time. Some girls liked it, some didn't. It was a crapshoot.

"Well, sorry to interrupt your run. It was nice to meet you though."

"Not as nice as it was to meet you!" His face turned red in an instant. 'What a corny line that was!' he thought.

She giggled.

"Ummm, would you want to get together some time? I mean, you know, if you're single and you want to."

He wouldn't have been able to look himself in the mirror if he hadn't asked, but he steeled himself for the rejection he knew was coming.

"Sure! That sounds great!" she said to his amazement. "Why don't you meet me at The Sol Shack tomorrow at 7? Do you know where it is? I love the food there."

"Yeah, I know where that is," he lied. He didn't know then, but he knew he would find out before seven tomorrow. "I'll be there."

She laughed. "Well do you want to know my name at least?"

"Oh, yeah." Brad blushed again, embarrassed to have not already asked.

"It's Julia."

"Nice to meet you, Julia. I'm Brad."

For some reason, his name caused her to giggle again. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow night. You better not stand me up either, alright? If you do, I'll hunt you down and sic Sarah on you!"

"Don't worry. I'll be there."

She giggled a final time and turned away from him. He watched her go, hoping she'd turn back for one last smile. He didn't think she would, but to his surprise she did. She smiled at him too, but it wasn't the self-assured radiant smile he'd expected. It was a sad smile. It was a vulnerable smile that melted Brad's heart in an instant.

He finished his run, thinking about her every step of the way, already hopelessly infatuated.

He hadn't stood her up. She'd been honest with him from the start. He thought it was odd that she wore long sleeves on a very warm summer night in July and had to ask her about it. She'd ignored his question at first and Brad didn't pursue it. They'd eaten dinner and talked. He felt an immediate and powerful connection with her he'd never before experienced. Brad could tell that she was a very kind and caring person, but there was a deep sadness about her too. He was attracted to that sadness. It was an alluring quality that he could not understand. It seemed she had every reason to be happy. She was stunningly beautiful and seemed to lack for nothing.

They sat in their places long after dinner was eaten and the bill was paid. They talked for a couple of hours before finally leaving and going to walk along the beach and talk some more. The day had nearly passed before she answered the question about her long sleeves.

He had been talking animatedly about a subject he couldn't remember now when she'd stopped and pulled his hand from hers. She faced him with an intense expression. Brad could only look back at her, shocked by her sudden earnestness.

"You asked me why I wore long sleeves."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to show you, okay?"

"Okay." Brad was suddenly not so sure he wanted to know. His heart skipped a beat and his hands began to sweat.

"If I show you this and you don't want to have anything to do with me anymore, I'll understand."

"I doubt it could be that bad."

She gave him a doubtful look and rolled up her sleeves revealing at least ten slashing scars on each of her wrists and forearm. He understood why she hid the scars. She was a cutter. Brad had known some in high school. Most were crazy Goth girls seeking attention in Brad's opinion. They seemed far removed from the vibrant beauty that stood in front of him.

"When was the last time?" he asked.

"I don't know. Last summer I think it was."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just get so sad sometimes. It seems like the only way to ease the pain."

"What made you even start doing something like that?" Brad was getting upset in spite of himself.

"I think I heard some girls at school talking about it. They said it made them feel better. So one night, I was lying in bed and I got so sad. I started crying and couldn't stop. Finally, I went to the kitchen and took a steak knife. I took it to the bathroom and made just the smallest cut. It did make me feel better. It was like all of the hurt and sadness and anger I was feeling flowed out of my arm with the blood.

"After that I did it every time I got to feeling like that. I managed to hide it for three years before people started seeing my scars. I still go to therapy and I can't even say for sure if I'll never do it again. It gets to be addictive. I know it seems weird to someone who's never done it, but it does. It gets to be like wanting a drug. Can you understand that?"

"Not really," Brad said truthfully.

"So, knowing this about me, do you still want to have anything to do with me?"

Brad stood there on the beach and studied her. He knew he was already falling in love with her. He leaned in and kissed her with more passion than he'd ever kissed anyone.

"Does that mean yes?" she said when they finally broke their kiss.

"Yes," Brad said. And he kissed her again.

They had a whirlwind courtship. Brad had never believed in sappy things like soul mates, but he did believe it when he was with Julia. He felt like he had only been half alive before he met her. They were married in his hometown of Savannah six months later. Before he'd met her, he'd figured he would just stay in the Marine Corps until he retired. It was tough and regimented, and it had once been his primary purpose in life, but now he knew better. He didn't want to be traipsing all over the world shooting bad guys; he wanted to be with Julia. So when his enlistment was up three months after he got married, he got out.

He went back to college and became a therapist himself, partly motivated by the prospects of helping Julia and partly because he found it was a profession he was suited for. People thought he was a sensitive soul. It was an odd quality for an ex-marine, but there it was just the same.

*******************************

The pier was only a half-mile away now. He'd be there in only three or four minutes at this pace. He was really grinding now and breathing hard. To his left, the ocean looked as still as a pond and the heat seemed to have a physical thickness. A part of him screamed for mercy and begged him to stop. What difference would it make if he walked the rest of the way? He'd certainly gotten a good enough workout as it was.

But he didn't quit. He pushed himself to go a little faster instead. A year ago, the night he’d left Julia alone in her bedroom, he had run the same route as he ran now. He'd started at the Tybee lighthouse and run to the pier. It was a distance of about three miles. But last year had been at night with a stiff breeze at his back. He'd hardly been winded when he finished. His mind still did not want to go there, but he was determined that it would. There was no way to move on unless he went back one last time.

********************************

He enjoyed his run that night. He soaked in his surroundings as he ran. He felt the wind and smelled the salt in the air. He'd looked out at the ocean with its waves forever lapping upon this shore, and at the stars and the moon, wondering at their distance, at the vastness of the universe and the eternal passage of time. Just thinking about these things gave him a sense of peace and happiness. Simple things like this made life worth living to Brad. But he knew his wife could find no solace in them. He could not understand why.

He tried to push her from his mind as he ran. When he'd married her, he had naively believed that it would be the end of her sadness. He could not understand what could move a person to take up a blade against themselves, but he chalked it up to a phase in her life. He thought she had moved on.

For a time, she did. Nearly a year passed before her illness raised its ugly head. But halfway through their first summer, he caught her in the bathroom staring transfixed at the blade of a naked razor. He managed to convince her to give him the razor, but she remained in a nearly catatonic state for three more days. When she snapped out of it and returned to her usual energetic, if slightly sad self, he thought that maybe that would be the end.

But it hadn't been. Every summer, as inevitable as the season itself, she would crash into this dangerous, inconsolable state of mind that seemed to have no external cause. When she was herself, they rarely spoke of the stranger that came to invade her body every summer. Brad reasoned that it was because they wanted to take the time they had to relish, and not to dwell on what was coming when the weather became hot.

Her father had died in an auto accident on a summer day when she was ten-years-old. After that, she was raised by only her mother. She was a strict, taciturn, sharp-tongued woman who did her best to break her only daughter down at every opportunity. Julia believed there had to be a connection to the time of her father's death and her plunge into self-abuse and extreme despair, but she could not quite define what that connection was.

She went to therapy religiously and dabbled in all the en vogue medications: Prozac, Welbutrin, Effexor. She tried them all at one time or another. But it was all to no avail. As time passed, her bouts became more prolonged and severe. Brad feared the day was coming when she wouldn't make it through.

He saw her standing at the end of the pier in the light of the full moon, even before he reached it that night. But he hadn't recognized her at first. He should have, but he didn't. He had not imagined that she would come here tonight. She'd seemed too depressed to even leave her bed, let alone driving fifteen miles to the beach and walking to the end of a pier.

He walked out on the pier himself, thinking he would catch his breath and enjoy the ocean breeze a little longer before returning home. He was certainly not in a hurry to get back. When he saw her studying him, leaning against the rail, he almost jumped out of his skin. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her, wondering why she'd come. She said nothing, only looked back at him expectantly, waiting for him to reach her. He went to her.

They stood nearly nose-to-nose before he spoke to her.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I needed to talk to you," she said. The resolve in her voice made his hair stand on end. He was suddenly afraid for no reason he could understand.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"You've been a wonderful husband. You're a wonderful man. I want you to have the chance to be a wonderful father."

"Julia, don't start on that again! Please! I want you to be happy. That's what I really want for you. Can't you see that?" He spoke more sharply than he meant to, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

"You don't understand. I'm not here to dwell on that subject." She opened her mouth to say something else, but didn't. She looked at him with sad, haunted eyes. But Brad saw the resolve in them. He knew she had come here to do something. In hindsight, he knew he should have known then. But he hadn't. As God was his witness, he had not known.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I don't deserve you, Brad. You are a free-spirited man and I have imprisoned you. Don't even try to argue with me. I see the resentment in your eyes every time I go through one of these spells. It's not fair to you, Brad. I have to set you free."

"Set me free? What do you mean? You want a divorce?"

His mouth curdled around the word. It was unthinkable. He would never divorce his Julia. Not in a million years.

"A divorce? No, Brad. Not a divorce. I know you would never agree to that."

"Then what?" He was dumbfounded.

She pursed her lips then and her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with all her strength. Even after she broke the kiss, she clung to him, hugging him so hard he could barely breathe. He was stupidly clueless, ecstatic that she seemed to have recovered from her spell, thrilled to see her with so much energy. Finally, she pulled away.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, smiling at her.

"I've just decided to do the right thing." She was silent for a moment then and took a step back from him. He looked at her, perplexed. A tingling sensation surged through his body, but his conscious mind still did not understand what was about to happen.

She backed out of his reach.

"I love you, Brad. Just Remember that. No matter what you ever think about me, just remember that, okay?"

"Okay..." Then in a flash, he understood. His eyes opened wide with horror and he lunged for her. But she was too quick. He reached for her, but grabbed only air as she propelled herself over the rail and into the ocean below.

"No! Julia! No!" he screamed in anguish.

He rushed to the railing just in time to see her body splash into the water. He judged he would be injured by the impact if he jumped from here, so he sprinted back down the pier, his heart thundering in his chest, trying not to hyperventilate. He needed all of his Marine Corps training not to panic. He rushed down to the beach and dove headlong into the surf, swimming desperately towards the edge of the pier, trying to pinpoint the place she'd struck the water in his mind's eye.

In only a few minutes, he reached the spot where he thought she'd dropped and began swimming in widening circles away from it, diving down as far as he could, trying to spot any kind of movement below the water's surface and calling her name desperately each time he came up for breath.

But it was useless. All night, he dove around the pier in search of her, but found no sign. At last, as the sun rose, he stumbled to the beach and collapsed, exhausted on the sand.

'He should have known,' he kept telling himself. 'He should have known what she was going to do. Why hadn't he known?'

When he'd reported what had happened to the police, there was a semblance of an investigation. The husband was always the prime suspect after all. But Julia's mother believed what he said about her suicide was true. With her support, the police were soon out of his hair although her body was never recovered. The police said that wasn't unusual. The current could sweep a body out to sea in only a few minutes. It would have been surprising if they had found it.

But the absence of her body haunted Brad. He wanted to see her one last time. Even if it was only her lifeless shell, he believed it would have brought him a measure of peace. No court ever tried him for her death that night, but in his own conscience, he was as guilty as a man could be. He did not want to live with that guilt for another year. He wanted to face it tonight. He wanted to let the summer sun beat it from his soul today.

***********************************

The pier was only a hundred yards away now. Brad was spent. His tank had run dry. But still he pushed himself to sprint the final leg. He paid no attention to the sunbathers gathered around the pier drinking beer and enjoying their vacations. He felt as if they existed in another universe. Within ten yards of his finish line, he stumbled and fell headlong in the thick sand. The fall drew stares from those around him, but Brad only stood and wiped the sand from his face. Then he ran the final strides to the pier and up the steps.

Only then did he cease to run. He was beyond exhaustion, but fought the urge to lean over and catch his breath. Instead, he stood up straight, gasping, and walked down the pier. The sun beat down on him and he felt its heat. In all his life, he could not remember being so hot. His heart felt like a nuclear reactor sending fresh pulses of red-hot heat through his body with its every thump. Waves of vertigo assailed him repeatedly before he reached the end of the pier, but each time he fought the urge to faint and continued on.

Finally, he reached the end of the pier to stand at the exact spot where he stood on the night Julia left him. The night he failed her. He looked over the rail into the ocean below. The sea was so calm that it hardly fluttered. The sun's reflection glared back at him from the water. He stared into it. An irrational fury seized him. He wanted to blame that sun for her death. He wanted to blame the water it sat upon for drowning her. He wanted to have a target for his anger besides himself. But he could not. His rage swirled within him like a masterless beast. Still, he glared at that sun that sat upon the ocean water as if it were his mortal enemy.

Another wave of vertigo passed through him and this one he could not resist. He bellowed in protest as he fell to his knees, still not removing his eyes from the sun's reflection. But then consciousness deserted him and his face dropped to the pier's sun-warmed planks.

********************************

Brad never felt those planks against his skin. He fell into the sun that floated in the ocean. He saw her face as he fell. He saw her face in the center of the sun as he had first seen it on the day he met her: her red hair flying in the breeze, a sad and earnest smile on her lips and in her eyes. She was even wearing that same aqua bikini with the man's long sleeve shirt covering her scars. Her arms were outstretched, reaching for him.

"Julia!" he said aloud as he fell.

Then he was embracing her. She wrapped herself tightly around her. Her touch was as hot as the sun itself. He lost himself in her heat. He kissed her and realized it was not only his guilt that had haunted him this past year, but also her absence. He had missed her horribly. But now he held her again and vowed that nothing would ever separate them.

She broke their kiss and stared into his eyes. He saw that the sadness that haunted her all the years he'd known her had departed.

"Are you happy now?" he asked.

But she made no response except to look at him with love in her eyes. Then she took his hand and led him away. They stood in a place of light with no substance. There was no ground below him and no sky or ceiling above. There was nothing but a blank, bright whiteness in every direction.

But then a tall, shining man appeared before them. He towered a foot over both of them and shone so brilliantly that Brad could not bear to look at him straight on. He had to avert his eyes to the side to see him in his peripheral vision.

"This is my father," Julia said. "I wanted you to meet him. I wanted him to meet the man who loved me."

The man extended a shining hand and Brad shook it. The contact sent a living heat like an electric shock through Brad's being. Even when the handshake was broken, he still felt tingles of energy flowing through his body.

In spite of the man's awesome presence, it was Julia that Brad was most interested in.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her. "Why couldn't you have stayed with me?"

"I had to set you free," she said. "I could not live in your world...It was just...too hard."

"Why couldn't I make you happy?"

"You did make me happy. But my father was here. And each summer when he sent his heat out into the world, I longed for him."

"Your father is the sun?"

But she didn't answer. Instead she embraced and kissed Brad again. Brad could taste the heat of life in her mouth. He held onto her kiss as long as he could. When he felt herself breaking away at last, he tried to cling to her. His hand grasped at her flowing red hair and pulled away a strand of it as he fell away from her.

"No, Julia! I want to stay with you!" he pleaded.

**************************

A bright light shown above him, and he shut his eyes against it.

Then he opened them carefully again and saw a hand push the light away from his line of vision. A pretty brown-eyed face appeared above him.

But it wasn't Julia's face. Disappointment surged through him. She was dressed in a white smock. He tried to sit up, but the woman prevented him.

"Take it easy," she said. "Do you know where you are?"

He tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was lying in a stiff bed in a sparsely furnished antiseptic room. The woman beside him was obviously a nurse.

"A hospital room."

"Yes. You fainted on the pier and paramedics had to bring you in. You had a heatstroke. No one here thought you were going to make it, but then all your vital signs suddenly stabilized and your core temperature dropped. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a miracle."

Brad realized he was holding something in his right hand. He brought it toward his face and opened his hand. The object flashed so brightly that he shut his eyes against it and still saw the ghost of the flash with his eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them again, he saw that he held a lock of fire-red hair. He brought it to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. He knew it was hers. He'd nuzzled it enough to know.

"A miracle?" he said to the nurse. "Maybe it was."

She smiled and left the room. When she was gone, Brad got out of bed and looked out the window. His room was facing west and he could see the sun setting brilliantly on the horizon spreading a hue of colors as it went. He watched it until its light was gone from the sky.