All day on the sea. Rocking and tossing. The sun reflecting over on the waves like panes of glass. Bright. Dazzling.

The journey seems endless. Peering through this small round window.

We rock. To and fro, to and fro. Even on this heavy ship.

With all the beautiful people on it.

They are all laughing and gay as if none of this is real for them. They are "elsewhere" as ever.

I rock with the rough tide.

Thump.

We have docked.

Finally. I yearn to stretch my legs.

I walk along the smooth polished wood of the deck, past endless stately polished doors, all closed.

"Where are you going?" inquires my beautiful friend in her best flowing, colorful wrap. Her face is sweet and tanned. Her lipstick in a sophisticated shade of red. All the fashion. Her legs long and lean, ending in beautiful gold sandals.

"For a walk" I reply simply.

I must reach land again. The sea and the sand are calling me.

"You can't now, we are going to the 'house'."

Thwarted. Again.

I shrug and follow her as we join the other extravagantly beautiful ones who have gathered on the peer. They are clucking to each other like hens.

I gaze out at the rough water as it struggles to gain purchase on the shore. Dark. Insistent.

It snatches handfuls of sand as it is forced back to whence it came.

"You must put on your hat." my beautiful friend states.

Broken reverie.

It is a hideous thing. Wild colors of pink and orange and blue all struggling against each other.

It is very large. Puffed up even. Quite unacceptable.

I ignore her and pass it by.

"You must put on your hat" she states again as she snatches it up and places it on my head.

Fine. I feel as if I have a stuffed animal on my head. The brim almost touches my shoulders.

I look at the small crowd gathered together on the peer again.

They are all wearing versions of this hat. How ugly they are on their beautiful heads.

We stand, waiting as the driver packs our belongings into the car.

Long, black, shiny over-assuming thing it is.

I see a group of dark skinned smiling pre-teen children frolicking in the surf.

They smile and wave as if they know us.

I wave back, smiling.

My friend gives me a scowl and gets into the car, pulling me by the hand in with her.

Silently, the car glides along the road. It is only a few blocks.

We pass another, older, dark skinned child. Buds in his ears. Head bopping. His chest bare. His shorts hung low. Sandals on his feet.

He smiles and waves as we pass.

I wave back.

He cannot see me through the tinted glass.

We begin the process of piling out again.

Ridiculous waste of time. We could have walked.

But no. Beautiful people do not walk.

As I stand waiting in my stupid hat, I see the children again, they are closer. Still smiling. Still waiving. Still bobbing in the crushing surf.

I begin to walk towards them. My friend grabs my hand and leads me away.

The house is huge. Perched on a hill. Mostly glass. A shining godlike thing, ruling over the sea.

We leave our bags on the street. Someone will bring them in.

Inside I step to the window, once again, watching the children.

"Come, see your room." my beautiful friend says as she takes my hand. I sigh. We go.

Later, all the beautiful women are gathered, languishing in various poses upon the overstuffed white furniture.

This room is huge. Glass. All around us is the sea. It is magnificent.

The beautiful women are in their most elegant lounging attire with tall, slender champagne flutes in each of their hands.

We must toast. I smile, toast, and wait until they are all conversing. Then I steal away towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Again, here she is. My beautiful friend. Ever vigilant in her watch over me.

"For a walk" I reply feeling as if I am caught in a repeat episode of our former conversation.

"Not now, we are going to play a game."

She takes my hand and leads me back to the laughing, beautiful women.

I wonder briefly where the men have gone.

"The men are sailing." says my friend as if she is reading my mind. "We are going to play a game until they return for dinner."

We play. Endless. Meaningless. Ridiculous. Time passes slowly.

Soon there are tantalizing smells wafting through the sterile air of the room.

I realize that I am hungry. My belly growls. Unladylike.

Sudden boisterous laughter from the next room. When had the men returned?

They enter, all beautiful, in their finest dinner jackets.

I feel under-dressed. My beautiful friend assures me I am not as she sees me tug at my skirt.

We are seated. We are served. We eat. There is meaningless, over-animated conversation. Much ado about nothing, I think smiling to myself.

I head for the door when we are done and I feel it is safe.

The sun is beginning to set and the cool sea calls to me.

"Where are you going?" not again. She has appeared from thin air.

"I am going for a walk" She tilts her perfect head. A beat. "You must wear your hat"

"No thank you," I say.

"No, you must." she insists, "You look wonderful in it." She perches it on my head and I allow it.

Blessedly, the door closes behind me.

I am not pursued. Bliss.

I see the children are still in the surf.

Surely not the same?

Surely they must be home, having their dinners? Resting their heads?

They smile and wave at me.

Down towards the water I go. Carefully holding my stupid hat on my head.

The wind kisses me with the smell and sting of salt.

I reach the peer.

I sit, legs crossed, to absorb the deliciousness of this moment as the sun begins to set.

I glance behind me.

There. The island boy again. Earbuds still firmly planted. Head still bopping. Sitting 100 feet behind me. Also cross-legged on the dock.

Did I pass him and not see? Hmm…

No matter.

I turn back to watch the children playing in the surf. They are closer now. Smiling, laughing.

I smile back. Wave.

They come a little closer so I can see their faces.

I am still smiling. They are still waving.

How peculiar.

I feel a stiff wind and reach up to catch my ugly hat.

A chill.

I glance behind me. The island boy is closer now too. Only a few feet.

Head bopping. He smiles.

I smile.

Back to the children in the surf.

They are quieter now. Not as boisterous. Watching me.

Watching me?

Odd. Uncomfortable.

I glance behind me.

And see the sweet face of the island boy.

Twisted in a terrifying grimace of hate and unreasonable anger.

A large smooth stone in his hands, high above his head. Standing over me.

I start to scream, just as he slips and loses his footing and falls into the water.

The stone bounces harmlessly off of the top of my ugly padded hat, and down towards the water.

Right into the surprised, upturned face of the fallen island boy.

They both sink.

Absently, I wipe my hand across my face.

A smear of blood comes away. Not mine.

Eyes wide, I look towards the surf. The children are glaring angrily at me.

They turn away and move sluggishly through the heavy angry surf.

Moving away from me, with furtive sullen glances back.

I no longer see the island boy below the surf.

Gone. Just gone.

The sun has almost set.

The breeze is nipping at me.

Biting at my skin.

I pull my hideous, beloved hat close down on my head and rise quickly.

Fight the urge to run. I walk. But quickly.

Back to the beautiful people in the monstrous glass house on the hill.

Back where it's safe. Back where I belong.

Ironically, I suddenly realize. To the island boy...

I am one of them.