A New View on Life

One day that March, we had a last-minute, single-night reservation appear in our system. This was the winter, during our off-season, and reservations like this were a rare occurrence. Almost as soon as her reservation came in, Shizuka arrived—a lovely lady, tiny in stature, who gave me a warm greeting.

I gave her a warm greeting back, and in casual, icebreaking-type conversation, I asked her, “What brings you to Rehoboth Beach today?”

She immediately started sobbing. I sat her down on the couch and sat next to her as I tried to discover what was going on. 

She told me she had run away from her family only a couple of hours earlier. She just got in her car and began driving with no destination in mind. She was coming from Virginia and, as she neared the coast, she decided to head towards the beach and look for a place to crash. When she looked online, she found our listing and something told her, “This is the place, book there.” 

I learned that Shizuka was an American citizen who years earlier had escaped from hardship in Taiwan after graduating from high school. She was a wife and the mother of two teenage girls; she worked hard to lead her girls toward honorable and successful lives. She believed her daughters’ success was her duty as their mother, and she was determined to give them the opportunities she never had. Her husband had a more relaxed view of life and parenthood, so her family life wasn’t always smooth.

A few days before, Shizuka had insisted her younger daughter get out of bed to arrive on time for online school (during the pandemic). She didn’t know at the time that her daughter was depressed, and that being isolated from her friends was making her anxious. 

In response to her mother’s actions, the daughter called child protective services to report her mother as an abusive parent. An investigator arrived unannounced at the home for a home inspection and an interview with Shizuka and her husband. She was appalled as her husband described her to the officer as a tough mom who put high pressure on the girls. 

Shizuka was devastated and heartbroken and felt betrayed by her own child. She packed some belongings and left home without saying anything to anyone. 

Now, she was at my doorstep, and I was determined to do what I could to help her. We had no other customers booked with us till the weekend, so I had planned a week’s worth of projects and was in the middle of painting several guest rooms.

On the first day, Shizuka stayed close to me and vented. I just painted and listened. She decided she would need another night with us. The second day was very much like the first. The second day finished with booking a third night.

The third day began with a call from the Virginia State Police: Shizuka had been reported missing by her family. They traced her location by the credit card charges and wanted to check on her well-being. I explained the situation to the officer, noting she had turned off her phone, unwilling to speak to her family. After speaking to her himself, he ended the investigation, satisfied this was a family issue.

Hoping to find an apology, Shizuka turned her phone back on, only to see a text message from her husband, requesting a divorce. After suddenly finding himself shouldering all of Shizukas’s responsibilities, he was finding things at home unbearable. 

Shizuka once again broke down. I once again listened while I painted. 

The fourth morning began like the rest—eggs, toast, bacon, and a breakdown. But this time I had a different plan. I invited Shizuka to go for a walk with me to get some fresh air, see the ocean, and focus on something else. As we walked down a path, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a joint. I lit it, took a puff or two, and handed it over to Shizuka. 

She took it from me and took a puff, then a few more. We sat on a bench and a calmness fell over her. For the first time since I’d met her, she sat quietly and stared out at the ocean. I told her not to let herself focus on the family today, but rather, to focus just on herself and enjoy being at peace.

The next day began very differently, Shizuka came down to breakfast with a smile and her suitcase, ready to see her family and reconcile. She felt she had perhaps been too stern with her kids and husband and was willing to relax a little and laugh more. 

She drove home and called the next day to report a beautiful reunion. A couple weeks later, Shizuka sent me an email thanking me for helping her and letting me know child protective services had cleared her. 

To this day, Shizuka and I remain very close friends. Although now when we meet, she might be the one more likely to pull a joint out of her pocket. Legally, of course. ▼

Tom Kelch is a former Rehoboth Beach innkeeper who enjoys sharing his stories with Letters’ readers.