Майя Лунде - The End of the Ocean

“An Arietta 31. Brand new,” I remember she said, a little proud when she gave me the keys. “Built in Sweden. Olle Enderlein designed it. He’s the best there is these days.”

Only the best was good enough for me.

My boat, the sailboat Blue , Mommy’s present, Mommy’s olive branch, the gift I couldn’t bring myself to refuse, the only gift she ever gave me that I actually wanted. Unlike her, it has never let me down.

I go inside, to stay this time, secure the hatchway, sit down by the map table, and immediately I can feel how I’m trembling. Have I been like this the whole time or is it a delayed reaction? I don’t know, but I shake, tremble, as if the wind were taking hold of me, but it’s not cold and frost that’s tearing me apart—my back is sweating from the exertion—it’s anxiety. I’m afraid. This is the first time, I think, the first time I have been overpowered like this. I wasn’t prepared, didn’t check the weather forecast, idiot, I didn’t—you never sail out without checking the weather—I could have known it was coming, could have been somewhere else now, a port of refuge, docked, solid ground beneath my feet, heat, yellow light, a bathtub.

But I managed it, the sails are reefed, the boat and drogue are working together, I’m sitting here; I managed it, I don’t need a port of refuge, because I am my own and I have Blue . She gave it to me when I turned eighteen, it was her olive branch, and I accepted it, couldn’t bring myself to turn it down and she expected something in return, I knew that, she expected a lot in return, an entire life, but I never gave her that.

People like her, like Magnus, they think everything is simple, that if you just buy a big enough Band-Aid, the wound will heal, but if it hasn’t been cleaned it’s no use, as long as dirt, pebbles and dust are still stuck in the flesh.

The storm lashes at the boat, a horrific racket, the rigging shudders. I am so tired, lay my arms on the map table, lean my head on them, just for a moment, rest for a moment, but I can’t, because I can hear how the water is leaking in, surrounding the boat, not just under it, but washing over the deck, pouring down from the sky and it’s leaking inside, the sound of dripping water is everywhere.

I stand up again, listen, it’s coming from the forepeak; I move up there, the fore hatch is not closed properly, water’s trickling in. I try screwing the hatch even more tightly shut but it doesn’t help, the water keeps dripping, teeny-tiny drops forcing their way through, stealing their way in, finding their way through invisible cracks.

It’s also leaking from the windows in the forepeak. I’ve sealed them with silicone, but it’s not enough, I should have unscrewed them and reinforced them with a silicone rubber gasket, because now it’s dripping down onto the berth, cold water on the mattress and duvet.

But there’s nothing I can do about it, I won’t be sleeping anyway, soon I’ll have to go up again, I must check every fifteen minutes, look for other boats, drilling rigs, be on the lookout for other lone lanterns out there in the storm.

I sit down at the map table again. Time stands still, time rages by—no, it’s the storm that’s raging, the ocean, the wind, a racket like no other, the cable pounding against the mast, it’s no longer a rhythm, the sound is now so powerful and rapid that it has become a vibration. Should I call for help, mayday , mayday —if I have enough power on the battery to use the VHF radio I can still reach the drilling rig, maybe they can help?

No, I’m not asking for help, I’ll ride it out, the storm, I don’t need them, I don’t need help from any damn oil rig, from unwoke oil workers, at home half the time, million-dollar salaries, I don’t need their help, don’t need anyone’s help.

I have to check again. I pull back the hatch, peek out, a wave crashes over me, hell, my hood isn’t up, ice-cold seawater pours down my back, I can’t see a thing, all that’s out there is the ocean.

I slam the hatch shut.

Sit down.

Shake, tremble.

Keep going.

“Iwant to go see the boat again,” Lou said when she woke up.

She was lying in bed, smiling at me.

“Hush,” I whispered. “Don’t wake the others.”

It was the crack of dawn, by my guess. The hall was still quiet. I heard only the sound of people sleeping, breathing heavily. Somebody was snoring loudly, others turned over in their beds. The morning light filtered through the windows.

“But I want to go to the boat,” Lou said, a little more softly.

“I thought you said it was a shitty boat,” I whispered.

“You’re not allowed to say shitty,” she said.

“No.”

“I’m going to the boat anyway.”

She placed her bare feet on the concrete floor and pulled on the pair of shorts that had been hanging over the headboard.

“Maybe later,” I said.

“It’s our boat now.” She came over to me. “C’mon, get up.”

“It’s not ours.”

“But we’re the ones who found it.”

She leaned over me, pressing her face against mine. Her eyes were two bright slits in her face. God, she looked so much like Anna. She also looked this way in the morning. The same eyes. The sun was always shining in there, regardless of the weather.

Anna.

“Maybe we can go after breakfast,” I said, and tried to hide the huskiness in my voice.

She hopped up and down. “Can we?”

“We have to put the tarps back on.”

“Of course,” she said.

“But first we have to drop in at the Red Cross.”

“Oh. The Red Cross.”

She stopped hopping.

“Maybe they’ve found them,” I said.

“Yes.”

I stood up and pulled on my clothes, taking my time with my T-shirt, hiding my face inside it until I felt that I had my crying under control.

I held out the bottle of antibacterial handwash and she accepted it automatically. We both cleaned our hands. Then we walked through the quiet hall of sleeping bodies, out into an equally quiet morning.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

She took my hand as we approached the Red Cross barracks.

“Do I have to go inside with you?”

“Why don’t you want to go inside?”

“I want to wait outside.”

“It would be nice if you came inside with me.”

“I want to wait outside.”

“But why?”

“I want to play.”

“Play? Play what?”

“Just play.”

She threw herself down on the patch of grass by the entrance and sat calmly on the withered blades that had once upon a time been grass, while the sun beat down on her.

She didn’t make a sound.

Jeanette nodded at me when I walked in, and before I even had time to sit down she said: “I have nothing new for you today, David.”

“Wow,” I said and tried to smile. “That was quick.”

“Sorry. But you don’t need to check in every single day. These things take time.”

“I realize that,” I said. “But I wanted to stop by anyway. Imagine if something had actually happened ?”

“You aren’t the only one who has to hear this. I say it to everyone, there’s no point in coming every day.”

“But imagine if something had happened last night, that they’d appeared somewhere, even here. Imagine if they were sick?” My voice rose. “If they were sick and alone. But that they were here—and I didn’t find out about it.”

I caught myself, made an effort to lower my voice.

“Or imagine if you had found out that they were somewhere else,” I said. “At a camp nearby, that we could go be with them right away.”