A soft summer breeze blew off of the ocean’s salty spray. The seagulls cried from overhead, looking for a scrap of food left behind. The sun beat down on the beach goers. An old man in a straw hat sat at the edge of the pier, casting his fishing line it the dark blue ocean. A small red cooler sat behind him. Every now and then he would reach for it, but then think better of it. He reeled his line in than promptly cast it back out to sea, hoping for a bite.
A woman with a large sunhat sat on the rock wall that separated the beach from the boardwalk. All of her skin was covered up, expect for her long fingers and her angular face. Her face was striking, but in an odd way. Her eyes were two different colors, one blue and one purple. She tried to hide this by wearing dark sunglasses, but she periodically pulled them down so she could glance around. Her nose was hooked at the end, like it had been broken a few times. Her lips were full and pouty, like she was constantly tasting something sour. Her fingernails were a deep red, like blood.
A magician stood in a top hat and tails; he wore a bright red bowtie around his thin neck. He was smiling, at no one in particular, and he was shouting, “Come one! Come all! To the mystery magic show.” People continued to walk by, not giving him a second glance. For his first trick he took off his hat and doves flew out. What a waste of doves. No one stopped. No one clapped. The magician began his second trick, reaching into his dark sleeve, and pulling out multi-colored scarves. No one stopped. No one clapped. With a sigh he backed up and sat on the rock wall, his smile vanishing from his face. He took off his hat and set it next to him on the rocks.
The old man in the straw hat reeled in his line. He had been sitting there for over four hours now, and yet he hadn’t gotten a single bite. He cast his glance back to his cooler. He recalled what it used to hold, but now it was just his reminder of his past. He pulled off his straw hat and began to fan himself. Kids would run down the pier and jump into the water, disturbing the water. Well maybe that’s why no fish are biting, the old man thought rubbing his aging face. He had wrinkles around his eyes, mouth and on his forehead. Age spots peppered his face. He had sad green eyes; they had seen their fair share, the birth of his five children, the Vietnam War, the death of his beloved wife and the inside of a jail cell.
“Move over old man,” some kid called, as he jumped into the dark blue ocean. The old man remembered why he hated fishing. He reeled in his line one final time and packed up his things. Reaching back towards his cooler he popped the top open and grabbed a cold beer.
Glowering at the kid now swimming happily in the water, he muttered, “Stupid kids.” He hit the cap on the edge of the dock and took a big sip. The cold beer slipped down his throat and filled his stomach with a warm tingling. He placed the beer on the dock and struggled to stand up. When he finally managed to stand up a kid brushed him, making him stumble and slip on the edge of the dock. He spread his arms out, flailing. I’m going to die, the old man thought, well it’s about time. A hand snaked out to grab his wrist pulling him back to standing. The hand reached around the old man’s waist to steady him.
“You all right there, buddy,” the magician said, looking down at the old man with pity in his eyes.
“You should have let me fall,” the old man mumbled brushing the magician off.
“Now why would I do such a thing? You seem like a nice chap,” the magician looked him over, “maybe?”
“You know nothing about me,” the old man said, looking up into the magician’s dark eyes. The old man ran his hands over his coat, brushing off a little dirt.
“Well, okay. I’m sorry I saved you,” the magician said walking away, his gait just a little off.
“Hey,” the old man called, making the magician turn around, “thank you.”
The magician tipped his hat and walked away. The woman had observed this whole ordeal and smiled at the old man. She pulled her sunglasses down to watch the magician walk away. She was use to the glances of people staring at her eyes, but when the magician turned to look at her and meet her eyes, he smiled a sweet sad smile. The woman could feel a smile spreading across her face; she brought her hand up to her mouth feeling the curve of her lips. She couldn’t remember how it felt to smile and she was shocked that a goofy man in a top hat was the first person to make her smile. The magician started to walk towards her, the smile still plastered on his face. The woman pushed her sunglasses up and pulled her hat down. The magician sat down next to her, gazing out at the ocean. He took off his hat and set it down next to him.
“Watching the surf hit the sand is so calming isn’t it?” the magician said, his eyes still focused on the horizon. The woman nodded mutely, not even glancing at the magician. The magician let a peaceful sigh, putting his hands behind him and stretching out his legs.
“I’m a failure of a magician. I guess my parents were right. They would say ‘Rodney being a magician isn’t a good plan. Go to college, get a degree, and find a good job.’ Well, you were right mother,” the magician said, casting his glance to the sky.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Rodney said, glancing at the woman. The woman shrugged and pulled of her hat, letting her hair flow over her shoulders. It was the color of nighttime, so black that it had a slight tinge of blue. She had a thin scar that ran along the edge of her scalp; she ran her thumb over it absentmindedly.
“Rodney,” the woman said, “Why did you help that old man?”
Rodney looked at her, his eyes catching on her scar and then traveling to her broken nose. He scratched his head, “You know-- I didn’t even think about it, I just did it.” The woman nodded in understanding, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well he didn’t seem very happy about it,” the woman said, skimming her hand across the top of her hat. Rodney just nodded; he knew the old man would have rather died, though Rodney didn’t think that drowning was the best way to go. The woman refocused her gaze onto the ocean, watching the waves move in a methodic way. She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of suntan lotion.
“Well, I best be going,” Rodney said, “It was nice meet you…”
He paused, expecting her to fill in her name but she simply said, “You too.”
Rodney got up and straightened his back with a satisfying crack. He walked away, his feet pulling on the sand. It was almost impossible to walk with his limp in the sand. He craned his neck over his shoulder to catch one more look at the mysterious woman. She brought her hand up and quickly waved, but then thinking better of it, pulled her arm down. Rodney smiled to himself; he had never met a woman quite like her.

The old man, gazed out at the ocean trying to recall fond memories of his wife, Joann, but for the better part of their marriage they fought constantly. He turned around looking for the magician that had saved him. He was sitting next to a young woman with inky black hair and a hooked nose. He couldn’t decide if he was grateful or disappointed that the magician let him live. The old man missed his wife gravely and wished to see her again, but he also wanted to see his grandchildren get married. His granddaughter, Lila, was getting married to an investment banker…what was his name…Robert, Nathan, William…one of those. Lila had asked him to walk her down the aisle since her father had passed away the previous year. He walked towards the parking lot, a strong wind tugged at the edge of his fishing cap. He reached his rust orange beat-up pick-up truck with the dent in the side, he tossed fishing poll into the bed of the truck. The old man hoped someone would steal it, because he really hated fishing.