Footprints in the Sand at Low Tide

Footprints In The Sand at Low Tide 

   They first met in Destin, Florida at a rustic 1950’s fish camp restaurant. The evening air was still oppressively humid almost smothering, it was early August 1985. She wasn’t the southern girl he first imagined when seeing her walk in and approach the bar. When she ordered a dry Absolut vodka martini the sound of her voice was unmistakable, she was from New England most likely Massachusetts. Maxine, her shining ebony black hair tightly pulled into a ponytail, long tan legs, and azure blue eyes, immediately captured JR’s attention. 

  He confidently rose and walked up to the bar and stood right next to her almost invading her personal space. 

-Smiling he said, “You look exactly like my first wife” 

-To which she replied “are you a married man?”

-“Not yet” he said. 

  He hadn’t ever thought about “love at first sight” but he knew immediately that he was maddening in love. Despite the heavy air of the evening, he was floating on thoughts of a dreamlike forever even though he had a beautiful pregnant wife.         

  Max was simultaneously attracted to JR with only a minimal amount of banter at the bar. She was careful not to drink too much alcohol, thinking she wanted a clear picture of this intriguing man. Her wealthy French husband Benoit, was only ten years older than her but he was an arrogant, controlling and insecure prick. Max liked men who were damaged in some way, knowing that someday she would punish them when they were their most vulnerable. JR was very handsome, close to her age apparently and his steel blue boyish eyes alone were enough to make her light headed. The butterflies in her stomach encouraged her to be far more bold than was her usual demeanor. She wanted him.

  The sand in Destin is some of the whitest in the world, with the residue made from finely ground quartz flowing into the Apalachicola River. The quartz crystals located in the Appalachican Mountains makes the sand appear like sugar. Travelers from around the country go to Destin to dig their toes into luscious white powdery sand. The two new lovebirds indulged themselves like giggling kids. Checking into the hotel was her idea… she was fully committed to another evening of carnal romance. Max never had a problem finding an outlet, never feeling the slightest guilt about cheating on her husband, Benoit.

  Maxine was a product of Amherst College, located a comfortable 93 miles directly west of Boston, it was perfect for her with its “experiential educational programs”. Amherst was for Max, a magnificent green house where she thrived like a beautiful bougainvillea sending tendrils everywhere, reaching for the warmth of the sun’s embrace. The sounds of her infectious laughter echoed throughout her circle of friends but nothing overshadowed her intellect and her self confidence. Max’s mother Malin, an ER nurse, had immersed herself in the high pressure worlds of trauma, emotional distress, suffering, pain, and loss. She had a profound, verging on detrimental, impact on her daughter. Malin struggled with undiagnosed depression, used excessive nightly doses of Absolut vodka to medicate herself. Malin Nordqvist was blowing up her life, searching for something meaningful to hold onto and establish a safe environment for herself and Maxine. She was not abusive in her approaches with Max, but Max’s childhood memories were tainted with the eroding effects of the lack of stability…. both parents being high achieving and career oriented with little time left to nurture their child.

  Malin had graduated from the Boston College School of Nursing, where she met and eventually married Dr. Edgar Hill. He had been dating a number of nursing students and was considered by many as “uncatchable”. Edgar was the Chief of Surgery at Boston University, specializing in Oral & Maxillofacial Surgery. He was the “real deal” as Malin was known to say when speaking almost reverently about her husband. She was deeply in love with him and regretted not taking his name out of silly youthful pride. She legally took the Hill name after he died of a massive stroke at age 61 ….. trying desperately to remain connected to her soulmate.    

   JR and Maxine leisurely awoke a little after ten in the morning, relieved by the absence of any awkwardness, they gently embraced like long lost lovers. Max felt comfortable enough to ask him about the massive scars on both of his legs, but he didn’t reply. She knew that it wasn’t something comfortable for him to discuss. Soon the spell faded and Max, wrapped in trepidation, started to explain to JR her marital situation. Faced with her unpleasant circumstances, JR quickly decided to contain his initial reaction to just stand up and walk away, knowing that he had been captivated by this wonderful woman who had mysteriously sealed his fate…. a victim of love at first sight. He never had similar feelings towards his wife Monica.

   

  Benoit LaLuc, had an erratic night of drinking and coughing up bloody mucus. A chain smoking and heavy drinking Frenchman, decided last year to ignore his doctor’s recommendation to quit both destructive habits. His marriage was starting to show signs of failure and he was confused about what was happening to his luxurious life. His wife Maxine, was what his friends called his “trophy wife” since he was ten years older and was in bad physical shape carrying excessive weight. 

  Benoit emigrated to America to escape the harsh realities of life in postwar Europe in search of academic freedom and better chances of economic success. He began his doctoral studies in Astronautics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology where he was very interested in making social connections that he knew would be important post graduation. His intelligence required little effort to make the grades necessary for the required minimum 3.9 GPA. After graduating in 1970, he was hired by NASA in Washington DC., which in his opinion was nearly the pinnacle of the astronautical community and perfect for making the connections to advance his career. Over the next decade, Benoit made the rounds working at various NASA locations throughout the country, finally settling into the Florida lifestyle in Cocoa Beach….. he was a “Parrothead”, listening to Jimmy Buffett music constantly. His mid-six figure income plus his side investments in real estate providing a good carefree lifestyle. 

   Now six years later Benoit was on the verge of divorce when Max, after a serial number of infidelities, had recently discovered Jon Reedy in a river side restaurant. They were having long love making sessions nearly every day for the last couple of weeks. The drive from Destin to Cocoa Beach is nearly 450 miles, so the first trip JR drove to Daytona Beach just north of Cocoa Beach, staying there for 2 weeks. Max felt comfortable and safe being outside her 20 mile “fidelity zone”. Suddenly her comfort zone collapsed when Benoit broke into the motel room. Raising his shotgun, he fired three blasts in quick succession. Neither of his victims had time to react. The metallic smell of blood filled the room. Relationships are complicated and sometimes we need to say what is needed but mostly we are afraid to just say what is necessary. Real friends don’t tell you what you want to hear but what you need to hear. Benoit had delivered the message