14

For roughly a week, I neither saw nor heard anything of Ondine. I spent my mornings at the docks, afternoons in the city, and evenings tending to my basket case of a mother. The weather was unusually warm for the autumn, and the sun was out all week. The tide was low, and the sea smelled saltier and fishier with each passing day. The smells and ambiance of the outdoors didn’t really bother me in particular; although, while the change was gradual, it did happen in the course of that week. It reminded me of the symbolism of the sun coming through the clouds to represent healing. Or something. But I didn’t like it. It was disconcerting to have a symbol of hope when Ondine was not there.

My mother was not at all comforting in this time. In fact, as the weather warmed, her temper grew more severe. I’d walk into my home and find myself ducking away from a bottle flying in my direction, shirking as it crashed against the wall or the door. She wouldn’t apologize, just look at me like a monster. But I’d sweep up the glass and make her dinner and put her to bed like always. I was so bitter; the thought of her death did not unsettle me in the slightest.

I spent most nights on the front porch, puffing away at a cigar. I hated smoking. I hated it so much. But all this had driven me mad. Self-medication always makes sense in your head, but not in your voice or on paper. Regardless, a smoke was all I wanted, and I gave it to myself. I didn’t ponder intellectual or ethical subjects or any bullshit like that. I just sat there, smoking, staring off into space. Imagining Ondine off in the distance, and wishing she was there so I could admire her. I usually never finished a whole cigar in one night, but I’d burn through a substantial fraction of it before going to bed.

And I could never sleep. I’d lay there staring at the ceiling in the darkness, absolutely absent-minded. Nothing was going through my head, but I was always tired, but only got reprise in about two hours of sleep. Mornings got harder each passing day, and days got longer and longer. Evenings became more apathetic, and all I honestly wanted was to sleep. But I couldn’t. I was insomnia-ridden, heartbroken young man. And I didn’t really know how to handle that.

The week that felt like eternity finally came to an end when I saw her again. Clouds had broken up the blue sky once again, and the temperature had dropped substantially. My crew and I were preparing for a trip out to sea. I was in the middle of hooking up the net when I heard Jason bark a greeting at Ondine. I turned my head sharply and grabbed him at the shoulder. “Fix up the net,” I ordered, climbing off of the boat and onto the dock. I could see Ondine’s face lighten as I stood in front of her, but she didn’t smile. “Hi, Adam.”

“Hey,” I said, panting. “Sorry about Jason. He’s young. Where have you been this past week? I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Oh, it’s not a bother,” she said demurely, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry I haven’t visited you at all. I was Anastasia’s understudy, and she sprained her ankle.” I cocked an eyebrow. “For the nutcracker. I’m playing Clara now. I’ve been busy rehearsing all week. I even had to rehearse over the weekend.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” I assured her.

She grimaced, adjusting her scarf and hugging her cardigan more tightly around her. “If the debut at the school doesn’t go well, they’re cancelling the tour.”

“You’ll do fine Ondine,” I told her, resting a hand on her shoulder. I’d never realized how boney she was.  “Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I guess I could do that,” she muttered, looking down at her feet.

“Are you alright, Ondine?” I asked, furrowing my brow at her.

               “I suppose so.”

               “Come fishing with us. You can stay in the cabin with me, if that makes you more comfortable.”

               “I shouldn’t,” she retorted, putting her hands up and shaking her head. “I need to rehearse.”

               “You’ll be fine,” I insisted, taking her frail arm lightly. “You can rehearse afterwards. You’ll have plenty of the afternoon at your leisure. I promise.” She looked up at me innocently, the breeze carrying her blonde hair around her face, her big planet eyes putting so much weight on my heart in that moment. I smiled at her and helped her onto the boat. The crew parted as I guided her into the cabin.

               “She comin’ with us, Adam?” Ryan called from the fly deck.

               “Yep, we got an extra crew member with us today,” I yelled back. “She’s especially good for heavy lifting.”

               Ryan’s bellowing laughter fell down to us. “We’ll put her to work, for sure.” He gave Ondine a wink. She chuckled, then walked into the cabin with me. I shut the door behind us, then took a seat in my chair. I always did the behind the scenes work when the boys weren’t there, so I didn’t feel bad about letting them take up my share of the work for once. Ondine sat beside me and we were silent for a few minutes before she looked over at me and initiated conversation.

               “I missed you this week, Adam,” she said.

               I looked over at her, a bit surprised. “I… I missed you too.” Half of my mouth curved into a smile, and she laughed at me.

               “You’re adorable,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I wish that this production wasn’t so time-consuming. You’re such a stress reliever.”

               “Well, I’m glad I’m good for something,” I shrugged. She had complimented me. I was at a loss for what to say.

               “How was your week?” she asked.

               “Not exactly brilliant,” I told her with a grimace. “My mother is a pain in the ass and everything else just kind of sucks in every way possible. I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know.”

               “I’m sorry.”

               “Don’t be,” I muttered. “It’s not your fault.” Ryan’s booming signal to take off seeped through the cabin door, so I turned the ignition and set the boat out to sea. They tossed the net and we seined the shallow waters. Ondine just watched while I steered and occasionally peeked out of the cabin door to see what the crew was doing. I brought the boat to a stop and went out on deck to help with the net. Once it had been emptied and doctored, we threw it out again and went another round before putting the net away and heading farther out.

               As we ventured farther from shore, I noticed that Ondine had begun to watch me more intently. She occasionally asked a simple question about fish or controls, but was mostly quiet until I stopped the boat again. The men flooded into the cabin to get their tack boxes, poles, and extra line, then just as quickly departed. They were even considerate enough to shut the door behind them.

               I looked over at Ondine with a soft smile. “How are you feeling now?” I asked.

               “Better, I think,” she replied, sitting back in her chair. “Watching you steer is interesting.”

               “It is, isn’t it?” I laughed. “I’m glad you’re fascinated by my skills.” I waved my hands around in a ridiculous display of mockery. She grinned.

               “I’m not so much as enchanted by your skills as I am by you, Adam,” she told me, rolling her eyes.

               I sat back, tilting my head. “Is that so?”

               “Yes, it is so!” Ondine insisted. “But I can’t just stare at you for minutes on end. That would be odd.”

               “Then I must be mad,” I chortled to myself. She cocked an eyebrow at me, then leaned forward in her chair, closer to me.

               “We’d all like to find someone just as mad as we are,” she told me quietly. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one quite as mad as myself.”

               “Is that so?”

               “Yes. But you come pretty damn close, Adam.” It was incredible what a profound effect that her words often had on me, but I was stunned at them now more than any other time. I looked down at the ground and licked my chapped lips, then looked back up at her. Her playful expression was quickly falling into one of disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, sitting up and beginning to look away, but I reached out and touched her arm.

               “I think you are mistaken, ma’am,” I said in the most composed manner I could manage. “You see, I am quite a lunatic. I have gone completely insane for you.” Her jaded eyes smiled at me, and I grinned back. I leaned into her, and she leaned into me.

               And yes, my hellish, infinite week ended with the sweetest kiss I have ever tasted.