Episode 54: The Weight of the Anchors

 

Episode 54: The Weight of the Anchors

​Date: October 8th

​The Kitchen Table Confession

​The beach house air was thick with the scent of salt and the cold residue of the hospital. Andrew stood by the kitchen table, his gaze fixed on his hands as if he were trying to scrub the phantom chill of the cave from his skin. 

He exhaled a long, shaky breath, finally meeting Sarah’s eyes.

​"Still... I thought about the future," he rasped, his voice sounding like jagged gravel. "I was gonna let her go beyond my duties. If she had given birth... I just wanted her to have a full life. 

Even if I couldn't be there, I just needed to know she was alive and making the best for herself. That’s all I wanted. But now? She’s gone.

 Her baby’s gone. It’s all just... gone."

​He stepped closer, his eyes hollow. "I know she was dead when I reached her. But I’m the one who walked out. I don’t feel anything right now, Sarah. 

I’ve never had someone murdered just to get back at me. I don’t know how to get past this."

​Seeking to numb the trauma, Andrew moved to the liquor cabinet with a stiff, pained gait. He poured a glass three-quarters full of vodka, topped with a splash of juice. The clinking of the ice was unnaturally loud.

​Sarah watched him, her heart aching. 

She realized she had no moral high ground. Her mind flashed back to Italy—to Jean Paul—and the business trip where she had betrayed Andrew while nineteen weeks pregnant with Alice.

​As Andrew sank onto the couch, Sarah moved toward him, trying to take the glass. "Andrew, please... I’m just trying to keep you from drowning again."

​Andrew snatched the glass back, his right arm tensing. "One drink! I caused the death of a lovely young woman! My child is dead! I barely survived, I’m mangled, I’m hurting, and I told you—I don't feel anything! And you just... you just rip it away from me like I’m a child?"

​He stood up abruptly, his jaw set. "Come with me."

​The Drawer and the Departure

​Andrew gripped her hand, his touch firm and devoid of warmth. He led her into the bedroom and knelt by her dresser. Without a word, he pulled open the bottom sock drawer, reached into the back, and pulled out the stack of photos from Italy. 

He placed them in her hand, his face a mask of granite. He didn't say a word as he grabbed his coat and cane and slammed the front door.

​Internal Monologue: The Weight of the Silence

​Andrew’s Thoughts:

The air feels better out here. Sharp. Inside that house, it’s thick with the rot of those photos. I’ve known about that drawer for months. I wanted to believe she’d tell me. I wanted to give her the chance to be the one who broke the cycle. But she’s just like the others. "Reliable Andrew." "Safe Andrew."

 While her heart is still curled around a memory in Italy. She thinks I’m a victim of a stroke. She doesn't realize I’ve been a victim of her silence for much longer.

​Sarah’s Thoughts:

The photos feel like they’re burning my skin. How long has he known? He didn't even have to search. Every time we made love, every time he looked at me, he knew those pictures were ten feet away. I’m a coward. I thought 

I was protecting "us," but I was just building a wall of glass. He’s out there in the wind, mangled, and I’m standing here holding the proof that I’m the one who started the drowning.

​The Shadow in the Entryway

​Sarah’s work phone rang. It was Jean Paul. On speakerphone, while holding a crying Alice, she heard him boast about the "mind-blowing" passion they had in Italy. "Yes, it was," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling, "but I'm with Andrew now. Please don't call anymore."

​Andrew had slipped back in for his hat. He heard every word. He heard the comparison. He heard his wife admit that another man had given her what he seemingly couldn't. He grabbed his things and left again, the door click sounding like a gavel.

​The Investigation: Tracking Chloe

​Andrew went to Maria’s dorm and then Marco’s. He uncovered the truth: Chloe, Allyson’s former roommate, had been feeding information to Cindy because of a twisted obsession and a grudge over a boy.

 He saw the missing locket on Chloe’s desk in his mind’s eye. The danger wasn't over.

​The Confrontation at Home

​Andrew returned and found Sarah reading to Alice. 

He picked up the baby, played "airplane" briefly, then looked at Sarah. "It appears you’ll have a new friend, Alice. Uncle Jean Paul."

​He poured a drink. "So the sex was unbelievable. Toe-curling unbelievable. And you said sex isn't everything? What I hear is sex with me is fine because we have other things. I’m the 'reliable sex.' If you want mind-blowing, you have to go to Italy."

​Sarah had no answer. "I was a coward," she whispered.

​The Two-Stroke Operative

​Andrew grabbed her phone and redialed Jean Paul. He dismantled the man’s life in minutes—revealing his side pieces to his wife and mocking his medical secrets. 

After hanging up, Andrew looked at Sarah.

​"I have a file on him. I've had one for a long time. The last 5 years... I wasn't just a data tech. I had other jobs. I’m not free to say what. I had to lie for your safety."

​"One question," Sarah asked, her breath shallow. "The two strokes... is it true?"

​"100 percent true," Andrew replied. "Why do you think I quit and lived the easy life? My ex-wives never knew. But with you... I was hoping and praying you would be the one."

​The Cold Bed

​The house fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Andrew went into the bedroom and lay on his side, his back to the middle of the mattress.

 Sarah climbed in minutes later, the sheets rustling like dry leaves.

​She reached out a hand, hovering it over his shoulder, but she couldn't bring herself to touch him. Andrew didn't move. He lay perfectly still, a "menace" turned into a statue. 

They lay there in the dark, two people in the same bed, separated by a sea of secrets and the gray ghost of a woman left in a cave.

​"Go to sleep, Sarah," he whispered into the dark. ."