She had nowhere to go, and the thing is she wanted to go somewhere. She wanted to get away. Like, really away. Not forever, you understand. Just for a day or maybe two. Just to clear her head. To be some place where she could not think and somewhere she could just be. It didn’t seem too much to ask for.
She walked out of her brightly lit and centrally heated apartment. She closed the door behind her, and it shut with a barely audible click. Inside no one heard. Not her husband or her children. Not even the dog. She closed the door, descended the stairs and stepped out into the street. It was a little before five in the morning. The air was clean and cold and wet, the streetlights were still on and music was playing somewhere – maybe the music was in her head, she didn’t know.
At the corner of her street she turned left. There was no plan and she could just as easily have turned right. But it was left. There was no one to see her not turning right. No one anywhere. She breathed in, breathed deep, so deep the air tickled her throat and she had to cough into the clenched fist of her hand. Susie, her littlest, had a cough starting, she thought. Maybe it would be something. She’d have to watch that. But not today.
At the train station she purchased a ticket from the automated machine. The man at the ticket office looked at her from behind the thick plate glass window. He looked hurt, his eyes wet and the corners of his mouth turned down. On the platform she was alone. She looked right and left. To her right there were signal lights flickering red. She checked her watch against the station clock.
The train rattled and shook. It made a drumming noise under feet. She opened the window and put her head out, felt the rushing of the air against her face. The train took her to the sea. She got off in a place she did not know. The air was sharp as glass. She fed her ticket into the slot at the barrier and something clicked inside the mechanism and she was allowed through. Everything was cold, she thought. She turned her coat collar up at the back and checked the knot of her scarf at her chin.
She walked from one end of the beach to the other, walked in her bare feet, sometimes in the water and sometimes just out of it. Skipping every few steps, kicking up the water, stamping the shape of her feet, heel and toes, into the wet sand. Above her silent gulls circled and the sun and the moon were briefly in the same sky. On one side, the landward side, the houses at the front were waking and the windows were lit up yellow and curtains were flung open. On the other side the sea spun whispers that spoke no sense to her ears.
One day out of her life, she thought. One day away from who she was, away from the person she had been made to be. She heard the voice of her mother calling her irresponsible. She laughed. A day to be irresponsible, she thought. That’s what she needed. A day in a place that was nowhere and a day to be reckless and free.
In the Dog and Bitch bar she ordered a gin and lemon and she smiled at a man with big hands and broken veins on his cheeks and rough hair on his chin.
‘You here for the wedding?’ he said.
‘No,’ she said. ‘The name’s Yvonne. I’m hear to be unwedded, just for a day.’
It made no sense to the man with big hands. He laughed without knowing why he was laughing. It made no sense to Yvonne. She laughed, too. She unbuttoned her coat and laid one hand on the man’s arm.
‘Just for a day,’ she said.
It made no sense what she did then, what they both did. A day out of his life and out of hers. A senseless day.
‘Irresponsible,’ the voice of her dead mother said, and Yvonne laughed again.
Patricia Ann McNair 
She had nowhere to go, and the thing is she wanted to go somewhere. She wanted to get away. Like, really away. Not forever, you understand. Just for a day or maybe two. Just to clear her head. To be some place where she could not think and somewhere she could just be. It didn’t seem too much to ask for.
She walked out of her brightly lit and centrally heated apartment. She closed the door behind her, and it shut with a barely audible click. Inside no one heard. Not her husband or her children. Not even the dog. She closed the door, descended the stairs and stepped out into the street. It was a little before five in the morning. The air was clean and cold and wet, the streetlights were still on and music was playing somewhere – maybe the music was in her head, she didn’t know.
At the corner of her street she turned left. There was no plan and she could just as easily have turned right. But it was left. There was no one to see her not turning right. No one anywhere. She breathed in, breathed deep, so deep the air tickled her throat and she had to cough into the clenched fist of her hand. Susie, her littlest, had a cough starting, she thought. Maybe it would be something. She’d have to watch that. But not today.
At the train station she purchased a ticket from the automated machine. The man at the ticket office looked at her from behind the thick plate glass window. He looked hurt, his eyes wet and the corners of his mouth turned down. On the platform she was alone. She looked right and left. To her right there were signal lights flickering red. She checked her watch against the station clock.
The train rattled and shook. It made a drumming noise under feet. She opened the window and put her head out, felt the rushing of the air against her face. The train took her to the sea. She got off in a place she did not know. The air was sharp as glass. She fed her ticket into the slot at the barrier and something clicked inside the mechanism and she was allowed through. Everything was cold, she thought. She turned her coat collar up at the back and checked the knot of her scarf at her chin.
She walked from one end of the beach to the other, walked in her bare feet, sometimes in the water and sometimes just out of it. Skipping every few steps, kicking up the water, stamping the shape of her feet, heel and toes, into the wet sand. Above her silent gulls circled and the sun and the moon were briefly in the same sky. On one side, the landward side, the houses at the front were waking and the windows were lit up yellow and curtains were flung open. On the other side the sea spun whispers that spoke no sense to her ears.
One day out of her life, she thought. One day away from who she was, away from the person she had been made to be. She heard the voice of her mother calling her irresponsible. She laughed. A day to be irresponsible, she thought. That’s what she needed. A day in a place that was nowhere and a day to be reckless and free.
In the Dog and Bitch bar she ordered a gin and lemon and she smiled at a man with big hands and broken veins on his cheeks and rough hair on his chin.
‘You here for the wedding?’ he said.
‘No,’ she said. ‘The name’s Yvonne. I’m hear to be unwedded, just for a day.’
It made no sense to the man with big hands. He laughed without knowing why he was laughing. It made no sense to Yvonne. She laughed, too. She unbuttoned her coat and laid one hand on the man’s arm.
‘Just for a day,’ she said.
It made no sense what she did then, what they both did. A day out of his life and out of hers. A senseless day.
‘Irresponsible,’ the voice of her dead mother said, and Yvonne laughed again.