5

The next few days, I spent as much time at sea as I could. I must have made my crew hate me for the twelve hour trips, but I needed a task to keep my mind off of the thoughts I’d wished I left back in high school. Most of my crew made no effort to conceal their bitterness towards me at the end of the week, no matter the efforts I made to make amends. By the end of the week, the clouds had dissipated and the sun was shining, warming the air. Days like this so late into autumn were seldom to come by. It was as if the earth wanted one last day of warmth before it succumbed to the bitterness of winter.

               I waved my men goodbye after we had docked the boat, then looked the fish we had caught with a sigh. I told them I would take care of the fish myself, since I had made them work so long all week. The fish were dead but they looked like they were laughing at me. With a groan, I hopped off of the boat. I made my way to the gas station just off of the shore. I strolled up and down the harshly lit aisles of the convenience store, not particularly excited about crating fish by myself. I grabbed a case of beer and a bag of jerky. The clerk could likely tell that I was a fisherman from my attire and my stench, but many of the fishermen from our docks dared to steal ice, and while I’m aware that it’s only water, I am also aware that theft is immoral.

               The clerk grimaced at me as I placed the jerky and beer on the counter. I pulled out my wallet to show her my ID, but she waved it away. “Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “I can tell from the look on your face that you need it.” She rung up the items, and stopped me before I could tell her I needed ice as well. The look on her face was tired but understanding, and I smiled gratefully at her as I paid her. I took my beer and jerky, and put them in a cart with the bags of ice outside. I began to push the cart back to the docks, and that was when I saw her again.

               She was garbed in a yellow sundress, but had a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. I shivered, realizing it had gotten chilly since the sun set. A cigarette dangled from her lips, and her eyes darted about frantically. She looked so fearful and adrift, and the way the moonlight reflected off of her fine features sent chills down my spine. I never asked myself why she would be out this late on her own. I could have, but I had long given up trying to understand a woman like herself.

               I’m sure Ondine wouldn’t have noticed me if I hadn’t stopped to stare and instead gone on my way, but she turned her head and saw me, and I felt all of my thinking slip away as I was washed over with adoration for the girl. She flashed a small smile in my direction once she noticed me. After looking around her, she turned back to me and made her way over. The closer she came, the less confident I felt in my own words. I glanced down at my cart, wondering what she might think of me, seeing the beer. I shook my head, feeling like an idiot. She was alone at the bar the other night, I reprimanded myself. She won’t judge you for this.

               “Adam!” her call was soft and fay and I couldn’t suppress a grin as she spoke my name. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and put it out with the sole of her sandal, then hurried over to me. “I was out with a friend, but he disappeared. I’d be more concerned for his whereabouts, but I’m sure he just went over to his girlfriend’s. He always gets grabby when he’s drunk.”

               It took me a moment to get words out of my mouth. “Are you, um, alright?” I asked hesitantly.

               “Oh, I’m fine,” she sighed in response. “Just a bit disappointed I have to walk home on my own.”

               “If you’d like, I could walk you home,” I told her, “but you’d have to wait until I finished packing fish.”

               A humble look struck her face and her eyes were drawn like magnets to her feet. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, looking behind her. “It’s not that I don’t want to wait, I just don’t know if I should… I don’t know.”

               I grinned at her sympathetically. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, miss?”

               She shook her head quickly. “No, no,” she said, putting her hands up in front of her. “I’m far from afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anyone.”

               “I don’t bite,” I told her, stifling a chuckle. She glared at me, but then sighed.

               “I suppose I could join you,” she sighed. “Besides, you do have beer with you.”

               I chortled and motioned for her to follow me. We made our way back to the docks, the metal cart rattling on the gravel and then over the wood. I placed the beer and jerky on the dock, then unloaded the ice into the boat and pushed the cart out of the way. Where the docks met the parking lot, wooden crates were haphazardly piled. I took as many as I could carry and returned to the boat. On the bottom of the first crate, I spread a layer of ice, then fish, and ice, and fish. I heaved the finished crate onto the dock, then moved on to the next. I filled four crates of fish, and as I lifted the last one up, I noticed Ondine. She sat at the end of the pier, her bare feet just barely brushing the water. Her amber eyes glowed in stark contrast against the black night, complimented by the array of starlights. I thought of saying something, but bit my tongue for fear of ruining a perfect moment.

               Instead, I climbed onto the pier and hosed off my boat. Drops of cold water hit my face and arms, and I wished that the weather didn’t have to get so cold. It made my job much less pleasurable than it usually was. Ondine turned to me when she heard the water hit the boat, and watched as I washed it off. I tried not to make eye contact with her until I was finished. I knew I’d somehow make a fool of myself if I did. The last of fish guts fell into the water, and I turned off the hose and coiled it around its hanger.

               I knew I had to walk Ondine home, but I was exhausted, so I opened a couple of beers and joined her at the end of the pier. She looked up at me as I sat beside her, and coyly accepted the bottle I handed her. I met her eyes with a soft smile, then looked back out at the sea and took a swig of my beer. She drank beside me as well, kicking the water with her toes. I didn’t want to speak. There was nothing for me to say. I was so tired from working hard to forget this girl, and she had stormed back into my life, oblivious to what she was doing to my mentality. She challenged the routine I enjoyed, and that frightened me.

               “Do you always work this late?” Her voice startled me.

               “No,” I answered. “I’ve just been trying to get a lot of work in the day, I suppose.”

               “What does it feel like to be at sea?”

               I turned to face her. She continued to gaze out at the gentle waves. “It’s overwhelming,” I replied, looking down at my lap with a smirk, “but in a good way. Like being lost and not wanting to be found, I suppose.”

               “Does having a job ruin that feeling?” she asked.

               “Yes and no,” I said. “It loses its continuity, but when you stop to realize where you are, it instantly hits you how small and insignificant you are.”

               She finished off her beer and turned to look and me. It was an observant look. Her eyes had a drunken film over them, but I could tell that she was trying to learn as much about me as she could without asking. I reached for another couple of beers, and she took one gladly. We drank in silence for a few more minutes before she spoke up again.

               “You’re not very talkative, Adam,” she said. “It’s strange. You’re so confident and friendly. Why aren’t you talking my ear off?”

               “I guess I’m just tired,” I shrugged. “My mind can’t think of anything to say to you.”

               “Thank god for that,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe I can get a word in.”

               Silence.

               “Or not,” I said with a smirk. She furrowed her brow and shoved me with her shoulder, throwing me off balance. I caught myself before I fell into the water and gaped at her. “That was a bit uncalled for, don’t you think?” I scoffed.

               “Not really,” she retorted before breaking into a fit of laughter. I rolled my eyes at her and gulped down the rest of my beer while she got the meaningless laughter out of her system.

               “My brother is a doctor, you know,” she announced, quickly sobering up. “You might know him. Dr. Breedlove?” I nodded at her, a bit taken aback.

               “Oh?” I didn’t really know what to say to that.

               “Yes,” she sighed, nodding to herself. “I never lived up to that. I never could make my parents see me as much of a person as he was.” The abysmal loneliness returned to her eyes, and I found myself speechless. I knew nothing about this girl. Did she expect me to comfort her?

               “You are beautiful, you know,” I told her. “I know that may not mean much to you. It’s a shallow thing to say. But you are enchanting.”

               She smiled faintly at her lap and laughed pathetically. “The mad thing about it is that no matter how beautiful I grow to be, I will never have the recognition I feel like I deserve.”

               “Recognition for what?” I inquired.

               “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I just want someone to look at me and adore me for all I am.”

               I almost told her I did, and that she was always on my mind, but I bit my tongue. I knew she knew that I didn’t know her very deeply at all, and it would offend her if I said that. “You’re charming, though,” I insisted. “You’re bound to have met someone who meets your intellectual and emotional needs.”

               She shook her head. “That’s just it,” she retorted. “Men only want to bed me. No man would bother to listen to what I have to say. I’m just a pretty face, that’s all.”

               “I’m listening, and your mind seems to have an even deeper beauty than your skin.” She looked up at me with a broken smile that desperately needed mending. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I didn’t. She finished her beer and leaned on my shoulder. I passed her another one without her asking, but decided against drinking the last beer. I still had to walk her home.

               I insisted that I walk Ondine to her place, but she fought me, telling me I shouldn’t walk home alone, and that she wanted to come to my house. The last thing I wanted was for her to meet my mother, but I couldn’t walk her home if I didn’t know where she lived, so I complied. We walked home in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other’s drunken gazes.

               She slept on the couch that night, and when I woke up in the morning, she was gone, and left no trace.