Birth, boats and rocky roads
The rock felt rough and faintly warm under my feet. A gentle breeze swayed the hem of my skirt as I descended the steep ground towards the beach, where the rock turned to gravel. Before the change, I gathered my skirt and sat down, so that I could see the boys playing in the water.
It was a warm day, the first of summer. I didn’t need a scarf at all, the rolled-up sleeves were nearly too much. The twins were both without their shirts, which had been tossed on the shore, clearly half-way to the water, dropped as soon as they came over the head. I could’ve told them off, but I didn’t feel like saying anything. They were too absorbed in their play, anyway; they probably hadn’t even noticed me come. Better not interrupt.
I wrapped my hands around my knees and leaned my chin against them. Wind made a few strands of hair dance around my face and tickle my cheeks. There was no sound except for the gentle, continuous lapping of the wavelets on the rocky beach, a cuckoo calling out somewhere, the hum of wind in the trees. And the three boys, of course, and their walking in the ankle-high water. They were careful not to disrupt the nearly smooth surface too much, otherwise their boats would keel over. Well, their boat, as the twins shared one, and I could hear them bickering on how it should be navigated.
The warmth was invigorating. I could imagine dipping my toes into the shallow water, so warm it could be bathwater, after resting in the sun for so long. And the smell! I took a deep breath: the smell of birch leaves at the height of their life, and pine, though bare, still more vibrant with colour, and all of nature in vitality. And freedom - and as soon as I thought it, I wondered: where did that come from? I searched my memory, and there was nothing to indicate I had been especially free any summer. Not even before mother died, and mother died in June. Now that I remembered clearly, the feel of that summer, and it was anything but free.
But it didn’t drag me down now. The day was too serene. The sky a soft, muted blue, the peaceful noise which turned to almost no noise at all, the warmth radiating from under me. I closed my eyes.
“All the washing done for today?”
I nearly jumped at the voice. My head turned: he was putting his hands to his pockets, golden hair swept by the wind, smiling mildly. Arne.
“You startled me!” I exclaimed. His bare feet on the rock, the waves had swallowed the noise from his steps. This seemed to only further amuse him.
He took support from the ground and sat down next to me, and I straightened my back and legs, draping the skirt properly. The jolt of him being there - of seeing him there suddenly and without announcing himself nettled me. I had thought I could for a while be safe from observation. Not to mention the uneasiness that came with him, since I had been avoiding him.
“So this is where you come to spend your time,” he said, looking around.
“No, I just came to watch over the boys,” I answered.
“Boys need no watching over,” he smiled, and there he may have been right. There was no one else around, but the twins and their friend clearly weren’t worried about anything, thinking only about their boats. It was a lie, anyway. Maybe I had been riding on that feeling, trying to catch some of it, watching their carefree play.
“Maybe not. Except from themselves,” I smiled back, but I made sure not to look at him for too long.
“They’re lucky to have a mother like you.”
“Oh, please don’t call me their mother.”
“You could as well be. They don’t know any other mother. You’ve done well,” he said, like he was complimenting me.
“Yes, but I never…” wanted it, I ended the sentence in my mind, but some thoughts are better left there. He was only trying to be sweet, so I smiled to correct myself. It felt apologetic, though I didn’t want it to be. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I am working. But it’s such a beautiful day, can’t one sit down for a while?” he said. “I saw you from the road and thought I ought to come say hello.”
I felt a cold shiver go through me, though the breeze was still light and the sun out.
“Well, I’m glad,” I said, and I thought I was. He was being cordial, just as I’d wished we could continue to be. He seemed better than some, or at any rate, he wasn’t the worst. Maybe I’d been dodging him in vain. My fingers were ripping patches of thin moss from the rock.
Then he asked:
“Have you thought about my offer?” And when my eyes shot up, he was already watching me, his body better turned towards me.
There it was, the disruption. Couldn’t he have thought the same as I had earlier concerning the boys, before he came to me – couldn’t he see I was contentedly absorbed in my own thoughts? And here he had to burst in with his claims, though I thought I’d laid them to rest. There was that upwash of dread, now a hot sensation shooting up from the ground, through mind and body.
“Arne, I’m sorry, but as I said…” I started softly, always softly, though there was a rock at the base of my throat.
“I don’t mean right now,” he said, and took my hand. It was coarse and forceful, though meant to be gentle, I’m sure. “But your father won’t last over the next winter, not how often he drinks himself cockeyed.”
“Don’t say that, please,” I scowled.
“You have to meet the truth, that’s just how it is. You won’t have to worry, though, is what I’m saying. I’ll be there to look after you.” Now he pressed my hand inside his. A splash and exhilarated laughter carried over from the waterline, and I looked at the three boys, scrawny but full of vigor, bathed in light. The light was there, exactly the same, I reminded myself.
I hadn’t wanted to say anything outright. That must’ve been it again, I had been too soft. He hadn’t understood. But it was dangerous to not be soft, to be thorny and outright and wicked. I tried to wriggle my hand free, but he wouldn’t let me.
“No, Arne, I’ve said no,” I said, and I had to look at him, very quickly, my head lowered.
“No, you said you couldn’t think of things like that yet. But you’re going to have to, at some point, you’ll have to see you’re all grown up now,” he said, drawing me closer by the hand he wouldn’t let go of.
“No, don’t you see?” I said. I was pulling so desperately, suddenly, that I couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “It means no! Not right now means I don’t want you, now or ever!”
It wasn’t loud, I was still making it soft and myself sweet, but the shock was enough for him to let go. I scrambled to get up and go – how could I stay after I’d said such a thing? – but before I could run, he grabbed my skirt, jerked me back and jumped up.
“Let go, let me go!”
“Teach you to say a thing like that to me,” he was saying against my ear, and his hand was searching me.
“The boys, the boys are watching,” I said to him, as I could see them over his shoulder, but it was a lie, and a gamble. They weren’t watching at all.
“They won’t mind,” he was saying through gritted teeth. “They’ll know then, how a man takes his wife.”
“Please, not when they’re watching, please,” I pleaded, and I thought: this is where I have to compromise, just not here. His hand stopped, only the other one was still keeping me caged, pressed against him, and when I could stop to breathe, I felt ashamed of it, too. Thank God they weren’t watching.
When I waited against him for his breathing to even, I saw there was no colour, suddenly. The sky wasn’t blue, the water was grey, the twins weren’t blond, it was sand, sand, everything. In the distance ships waited to set sail.
“It doesn’t matter if you choose someone else, they all know you’re mine,” he was saying, to himself or to me, I wasn’t sure at first. “And your father won’t last. You’ll have to take someone.” I thought about it. Maybe not, maybe father would be alright, and I could leave somewhere, serve some family. But if he were not, the boys would be alone. And I couldn’t think of them alone, yet.
He stroked the hair on the back of my head.
“You just think about it,” he said quietly. Then he let go. “I’ll see you.”
The twins had given up sailing the ship. They were crouching in the water, pressing it underwater with their hands and watching the wooden hull ascend back to the surface. Behind them were very real ships, ones that wouldn’t ascend if they went under. But they knew nothing of that yet. Had I ever played that way?
It was a warm day, the first of summer. I didn’t need a scarf at all, the rolled-up sleeves were nearly too much. The twins were both without their shirts, which had been tossed on the shore, clearly half-way to the water, dropped as soon as they came over the head. I could’ve told them off, but I didn’t feel like saying anything. They were too absorbed in their play, anyway; they probably hadn’t even noticed me come. Better not interrupt.
I wrapped my hands around my knees and leaned my chin against them. Wind made a few strands of hair dance around my face and tickle my cheeks. There was no sound except for the gentle, continuous lapping of the wavelets on the rocky beach, a cuckoo calling out somewhere, the hum of wind in the trees. And the three boys, of course, and their walking in the ankle-high water. They were careful not to disrupt the nearly smooth surface too much, otherwise their boats would keel over. Well, their boat, as the twins shared one, and I could hear them bickering on how it should be navigated.
The warmth was invigorating. I could imagine dipping my toes into the shallow water, so warm it could be bathwater, after resting in the sun for so long. And the smell! I took a deep breath: the smell of birch leaves at the height of their life, and pine, though bare, still more vibrant with colour, and all of nature in vitality. And freedom - and as soon as I thought it, I wondered: where did that come from? I searched my memory, and there was nothing to indicate I had been especially free any summer. Not even before mother died, and mother died in June. Now that I remembered clearly, the feel of that summer, and it was anything but free.
But it didn’t drag me down now. The day was too serene. The sky a soft, muted blue, the peaceful noise which turned to almost no noise at all, the warmth radiating from under me. I closed my eyes.
“All the washing done for today?”
I nearly jumped at the voice. My head turned: he was putting his hands to his pockets, golden hair swept by the wind, smiling mildly. Arne.
“You startled me!” I exclaimed. His bare feet on the rock, the waves had swallowed the noise from his steps. This seemed to only further amuse him.
He took support from the ground and sat down next to me, and I straightened my back and legs, draping the skirt properly. The jolt of him being there - of seeing him there suddenly and without announcing himself nettled me. I had thought I could for a while be safe from observation. Not to mention the uneasiness that came with him, since I had been avoiding him.
“So this is where you come to spend your time,” he said, looking around.
“No, I just came to watch over the boys,” I answered.
“Boys need no watching over,” he smiled, and there he may have been right. There was no one else around, but the twins and their friend clearly weren’t worried about anything, thinking only about their boats. It was a lie, anyway. Maybe I had been riding on that feeling, trying to catch some of it, watching their carefree play.
“Maybe not. Except from themselves,” I smiled back, but I made sure not to look at him for too long.
“They’re lucky to have a mother like you.”
“Oh, please don’t call me their mother.”
“You could as well be. They don’t know any other mother. You’ve done well,” he said, like he was complimenting me.
“Yes, but I never…” wanted it, I ended the sentence in my mind, but some thoughts are better left there. He was only trying to be sweet, so I smiled to correct myself. It felt apologetic, though I didn’t want it to be. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I am working. But it’s such a beautiful day, can’t one sit down for a while?” he said. “I saw you from the road and thought I ought to come say hello.”
I felt a cold shiver go through me, though the breeze was still light and the sun out.
“Well, I’m glad,” I said, and I thought I was. He was being cordial, just as I’d wished we could continue to be. He seemed better than some, or at any rate, he wasn’t the worst. Maybe I’d been dodging him in vain. My fingers were ripping patches of thin moss from the rock.
Then he asked:
“Have you thought about my offer?” And when my eyes shot up, he was already watching me, his body better turned towards me.
There it was, the disruption. Couldn’t he have thought the same as I had earlier concerning the boys, before he came to me – couldn’t he see I was contentedly absorbed in my own thoughts? And here he had to burst in with his claims, though I thought I’d laid them to rest. There was that upwash of dread, now a hot sensation shooting up from the ground, through mind and body.
“Arne, I’m sorry, but as I said…” I started softly, always softly, though there was a rock at the base of my throat.
“I don’t mean right now,” he said, and took my hand. It was coarse and forceful, though meant to be gentle, I’m sure. “But your father won’t last over the next winter, not how often he drinks himself cockeyed.”
“Don’t say that, please,” I scowled.
“You have to meet the truth, that’s just how it is. You won’t have to worry, though, is what I’m saying. I’ll be there to look after you.” Now he pressed my hand inside his. A splash and exhilarated laughter carried over from the waterline, and I looked at the three boys, scrawny but full of vigor, bathed in light. The light was there, exactly the same, I reminded myself.
I hadn’t wanted to say anything outright. That must’ve been it again, I had been too soft. He hadn’t understood. But it was dangerous to not be soft, to be thorny and outright and wicked. I tried to wriggle my hand free, but he wouldn’t let me.
“No, Arne, I’ve said no,” I said, and I had to look at him, very quickly, my head lowered.
“No, you said you couldn’t think of things like that yet. But you’re going to have to, at some point, you’ll have to see you’re all grown up now,” he said, drawing me closer by the hand he wouldn’t let go of.
“No, don’t you see?” I said. I was pulling so desperately, suddenly, that I couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “It means no! Not right now means I don’t want you, now or ever!”
It wasn’t loud, I was still making it soft and myself sweet, but the shock was enough for him to let go. I scrambled to get up and go – how could I stay after I’d said such a thing? – but before I could run, he grabbed my skirt, jerked me back and jumped up.
“Let go, let me go!”
“Teach you to say a thing like that to me,” he was saying against my ear, and his hand was searching me.
“The boys, the boys are watching,” I said to him, as I could see them over his shoulder, but it was a lie, and a gamble. They weren’t watching at all.
“They won’t mind,” he was saying through gritted teeth. “They’ll know then, how a man takes his wife.”
“Please, not when they’re watching, please,” I pleaded, and I thought: this is where I have to compromise, just not here. His hand stopped, only the other one was still keeping me caged, pressed against him, and when I could stop to breathe, I felt ashamed of it, too. Thank God they weren’t watching.
When I waited against him for his breathing to even, I saw there was no colour, suddenly. The sky wasn’t blue, the water was grey, the twins weren’t blond, it was sand, sand, everything. In the distance ships waited to set sail.
“It doesn’t matter if you choose someone else, they all know you’re mine,” he was saying, to himself or to me, I wasn’t sure at first. “And your father won’t last. You’ll have to take someone.” I thought about it. Maybe not, maybe father would be alright, and I could leave somewhere, serve some family. But if he were not, the boys would be alone. And I couldn’t think of them alone, yet.
He stroked the hair on the back of my head.
“You just think about it,” he said quietly. Then he let go. “I’ll see you.”
The twins had given up sailing the ship. They were crouching in the water, pressing it underwater with their hands and watching the wooden hull ascend back to the surface. Behind them were very real ships, ones that wouldn’t ascend if they went under. But they knew nothing of that yet. Had I ever played that way?