Chapter 31: “May you never be broken.”

Slayde

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We made it to Hamburg without any real incidents at sea. A couple stormy nights had me vomiting like a pussy in my toilet, but nothing major cargo-wise. Captain McKinney declared me the ship’s lucky omen, but I knew better. If my life was spared on this voyage, it was only because something crueler was in store for me.

Walking through the market near the docks, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kenny. I didn’t want to miss her as badly as I did, but I knew I’d never stop. She would always haunt my thoughts.

One of the merchants made miniature dolls. Not knowing any German, I couldn’t speak to her, but she demonstrated how the tiny doll in my palm had moveable hands and feet. She had long purple yarn for hair. The part of my brain that wallowed in self-immolation imagined Kenny and me with a blue-eyed baby girl. She would love something like this. I pulled out the few Francs I had and handed them over.

The merchant was overjoyed, but I didn’t know what I’d do with the doll. Its eyes were closed, and it looked so vulnerable in my hand. Something about it reminded me of that night on the beach. I wrapped it in tissue and slid it under my pillow when I got back to the ship.

As I sat with the crew waiting for us to leave port again, headed back for Bayville, I watched the crewman Anders twisting wire into different shapes. He was Finnish, and with a pair of needle-nose pliers, he took a thin piece of silver and twisted it until it was a tiny boat with sails.

“That’s pretty good,” I said, watching him.

“It’s nothing,” he laughed, handing it to me. “For our good luck omen.”

He was something of the ship’s philosopher, and he reminded me a little of Doc. He was also the same joker who liked talking about all the different ways cargo ships could sink.

“Who do you make them for?” I asked, watching him start another.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “Wife and kids, mostly.”

Nodding, I picked up one of the small silver rods and rolled it between my fingers. As he worked, I saw a thin red ring around his thumb. “Did you get caught in the line?”

He inspected his hand. “Oh, no. That’s the Red String of Fate. Chinese legend. It’s for those who are destined to be together no matter time, place, or circumstance—an invisible red string runs from her pinky finger to his thumb.” Turning his hand, he smiled. “It might stretch or tangle, but it can never break.”

My eyes ached and I curled my fingers to touch the little black heart in my palm. “You believe in that stuff?”

“I’m a sailor, mate. I believe in omens, myths, legends, prayers.” His gravelly voice was low when he spoke again. “What’s her name? The girl who has your string? I can see it tormenting you.”

Glancing up at him, I couldn’t find a reason to hide it. “Kenny.”

“She married?” I shook my head, and he poked his lips out. “The Japanese have a word, Komorebi. It means ‘The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees.’ There’s no English equivalent.”

I thought of Kenny’s smile as I watched him continue to twist the silver pin into an infinity knot. He continued working, and after a while, it was a heart. Finishing, he wrapped it around, and it was a ring.

“Here.” Holding it up, he inspected it a few moments. “Tie a red string to this and give it to her.”

With a sad smile, I shook my head. “It’s going to take a lot more than a twisted piece of silver to fix what I did.”

“The red string can never break. Now be our safe omen home.”

* * *

The sunlight was too bright hitting the courtyard on that steamy morning, the grass too green. It stung my eyes, and I wiped the back of my hand roughly across my brow, blinking fast.

The older man in the blue cotton tee and matching blue work slacks clapped me gently on the back. “You got this.” Deep lines on his face told of every hard lesson he’d ever learned, and I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever see him again after I walked out those gates.

“I got nothing,” I said, rubbing an inked hand over my diminished midsection. Then I picked up the pack at my feet. “All I’ve got is this. What I brought with me.”

“That’s all anybody ever has in life.” The man gave me a warm smile. His brown hair hung in his brown eyes. It was a style from another era, and the grey at his temples gave away his age. “But you’re ready to pick up your life again. You’re taking what you’ve learned.”

My lips tightened, unable to force a smile. Yes, I’d learned coping skills, how to control the rage in my chest, how to walk away, but I had no life to pick up. Not anymore.

Still, I didn’t want our parting words to be cross. “Thanks, Doc,” I said with a nod.

“Don’t thank me. I only helped you see what was inside you. You had to take the first step.”

The first step.

“Right. Well, take it easy.” I shook Doc’s hand then put one foot in front of the other, slowly making my way to the waiting taxi.

Leaving this place wasn’t like graduating from high school or college. Everyone would look at me differently now. They would question everything, from my trustworthiness to my ability to handle stress. Most wouldn’t even want to be around me. The stigma would follow me wherever I went, and at twenty-six years old, that was going to be a long fucking time.

“Where to?” The cab driver’s voice was wary. Or maybe it was disgusted.

My faded jeans hung a little looser on me now. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the folded map I’d studied for the several days. My eyes had devoured the coastline, reading name after name, trying to decide which one felt right on my tongue.

I imagined living near the ocean would help. I could find a simple, low-stress job—maybe construction or maintenance—and if it all got to be too much again, I could go down to the water, practice the things Doc had taught me. Centering, breathing, green-light the emotions, name them, embrace them, let them go.

My mind had settled on Bayville. It was small and close to what used to be home. One thing about losing everything—it brought a definite sense of freedom.

“Hey!” The driver’s voice was sharp. “You with me? I ain’t got all day. Where to?”

My ice blue eyes flashed, and fear registered on the man’s face. I’d have to adjust to that as well, I guessed. “Bus station.” 

Inside, the taxi smelled like old vinyl and stale cigarettes, and I wondered how many times this stocky, unshaven man in the dirty chambray shirt had driven from here to the Greyhound station. My pack was at my feet as I pulled the heavy metal door closed with a pop and a slam...

I jerked awake in my cot. Something slammed in the boat above me—crews working around the clock. Blinking into the darkness, I tried to get my bearings. It was just a dream.

Only it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Was it possible to dream memories?

Yes.

It was the first time I’d dreamed of anything that wasn’t Kenny. That painful thought sliced through my chest. Night after night I closed my eyes and I was in her arms. I’d touch her face, smooth back her dark violet hair, kiss her pale pink lips, hold her against my chest. I could hear her sigh as I sank into her warm depths, feel her legs wrapping around my waist, her fingers in my hair.

I wasn’t sure why I thought climbing into the belly of a ship and sailing to the middle of the ocean would help me forget her. Every morning I awoke to the searing pain of losing her all over again.

Tonight was different, though. Maybe because of the story Anders had told me. The string. I remembered studying that map, looking at every city and thinking about the names. Of all the places to choose, I chose the one that would bring me to her. Did I have any control at all?

Shaking my head, I rolled over in my bed. I didn’t believe in fate or Chinese legends. Yet, here I was, longing for her with every breath. I rubbed my forehead hard and tried to find a way through the pain.

In my mind, I heard Doc’s words. Without the darkness, you never see the stars.