daroir
“But I’m a woman
Can’t you see what I am
I live and breathe for you.”
Dear Anias,
I had very strange dreams last night. I woke up at five am to my alarm. I forgot to turn it off. It was very dark and quiet. I debated getting up and writing for a while to watch the sunrise. I chose to go back to bed.
In my dream, I was alone on a ship.
I stood on the upper deck to grip the metal wheel in both hands. It was cold. It sent a shock through my body, though the fear was stronger.
I was wearing a white dress and heavy boots. Always aim for contrast. A lace hemline that was wet from the waves. My hair was tied back. My lips tasted like salt.
The ship was very long. It was empty. I was not permitted to leave. I was granted access to the vessel. The current was strong; the water was high, frothy, and loud. I basked in the sound of the crashing and lapping against the ship's side.
Stationed in the small marina, I had to work very hard to cut the tight corners. Steering to the right. Turn the ship around. I wanted to leave, but the arena men would not allow me to pass. You're not ready, they said. You do not know what you are doing.
Yellow cushions surrounded a round dark wood table in the boat. Plants hung from the ceiling. A place to take a morning coffee. A small room with a narrow blue bed. This is where I slept. I was waiting for someone. They never showed up.
A bar to get a drink with the commune. I went and ordered something fizzy. It tasted sour. I drank it anyway. My fingers were sticky. There were red and purple lights, and people were dancing. A man asked me to dance. I said no. I sat in the corner and watched. A band came on. A drummer with long hair watched me through his curly bangs. I crossed my legs. My feet felt heavy in the black boots. Someone offered me a jacket. It was green. I took it.
We stayed up to watch the sunrise. I slept in the narrow bed and woke to the seagulls dropping shells on the cabin. Then I went back to the boat.
Second round. Time to go. I couldn't stay here: there was nowhere to go. No one else wanted to leave. Only me. Everyone else was content to stay in their spot. I started the engine. I nudged the boat out slowly. The boy in the orange pinny was watching me. He nodded. You're doing great, he mouthed.
I went toward the front gate, and it was locked. I turned around. Someone had left their slip at the far end, where the water was much rougher, and the passage led to the open seas.
I cleaved right toward the empty slip. The boy understood what I was doing. He nodded. He gave me the thumbs up. Take it slow; you can do it.
Where would I go once I hit the open seas? It didn't matter. I couldn't stay.
Fear lit my body with a ferocity, giving me the courage to take flight!
I drove it slowly and smoothly through the empty slip and was free.
Sirens blared behind me. The men at the entrance ran out onto the dock, jumping and waving their arms. Fury. I didn't care. I didn't look back.
I was out with nowhere specific to go. I had no aim. The waves were manageable. It was sunny. My lips tasted like salt. My hands were cold, and I knew, eventually, they'd loosen their grip on the wheel.
Most things get easier with practice.
I steered myself to a beach where he was waiting for me. I did have a destination at his side. He was wearing red pants with his hair down. Concealing his face. He had two cups filled with tea. Mint and sugar.
Parking the boat was not easy. I punched a hole in the wall of a shack as I collided with the dock. The pointy tip of the ship poked straight through the damp wood. No one was there to scold me. I tied the boat with a long rope to the dock as Greg taught me. I know how to stack the loops.
When I met him on the beach, he gave me a mug of tea. We sat in the sand. I took my boots and dress off and reclined in my orange bra and underwear. We matched, he and I. The colors of the sunset.
We didn't speak. I had much to say. He could feel it. He had my bag. My purple bag with all of my belongings. I didn't want it. I didn't need it. I wanted him. The impossibility of it all held my heart like a mean cage.
We sat there and sipped our tea until the sun went down. It was cold. He couldn't come to the boat with me. He didn't want to. He belonged there, in the dunes. He had another trip in a different direction.
Why did I come here? I said.
To see me. He said.
It really was that simple. But now I had to go. I couldn't breathe.
I don't want to drive in the dark. I said.
Stay here, in the tent. We will camp.
The tent was blue and tucked away in the trees. We cooked fish over a fire. He had some bread we split in half. I rinsed my face and fingers with a bit of fresh water. I put my dress back on. We laid thigh to thigh in the tent. His breath was hot. Neither of us slept. My body burned. I felt anxious and agitated. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to hold me. He wouldn't. I didn't ask. He could feel it. The tent felt tight, and I couldn't roll away. His feet pushed against the material by the door. There was no breeze. A bit of wind would have been nice. It would have released us from our thoughts. The ideas that kept us separated. Damn them!
In the dark, everything became more clear. I felt loneliness. I felt the lack. I felt that it was always going to be this way between us.
When I wander the coast for seashells, I always check to see if something is inside. I'm not contented with the outer appearance. The whirls and iridescent colors. I want to see what's living inside. I peep into the little crevasse, searching for the gooey, sticky creature that's taken the carapace for its home.
At dawn, I snuck out of the tent. He was asleep. His breath was heavy. He was on his back with his hair off his face. He has beautiful eyes. Even closed. Such long eyelashes. He has long fingers and even longer legs.
I left a little gap in the tent's zipper to let fresh air blow in. I took my dress off the branch of the tree. I'd hung it there with my boots underneath. I walked barefoot to the sea and stuck my feet in. It was cold. The water was calm. I could see my boat at the dock. It was the only one.
I held my hand over my face to look at the horizon where the ocean blended into the atmosphere. In reality, the two elements never touch. But from where I stood, the water and sky appeared to coalesce into one blurry line.
I woke up with my arms flung wide to either side of the bed. He'd messaged me at three am. Hi, how are you? The same thing every day. He likes to check-in. I like to write long passages of poetry. I never send them to him. I could never forget what he felt like. The warmth of his body. The texture of his hair. The strength of his hands.
He sleeps with his arms at his side. Contained. Like a coffin.
I sleep with all limbs extended. Cast overboard. A drowning woman. Or a bird, soaring above the sealine.
Photo source.
