A long, graceful
wave peels along the point. A light
offshore wind blows as the sun breaks the horizon. Harper sucks in a deep breath,
filling his nostrils with sweet, salty air.
As he closes his eyes a smile begins to stretch across his dry, cracked
face. This scene had greeted Harper many
times before, yet each time was new and fresh, bringing with it a sense of
contentment, a sense of peace.
Faint voices
appeared in the distance. Familiar,
welcoming voices that made Harper’s head turn ever so slightly. Eyes still closed, he reached down picking up
his 9ft log. The board, like the voices,
felt familiar, friendly. The smell of
wax mixed with the sea air, as the call of the waves begins to dominate his
emotions.
“What you
waitin’ for Harps?” jibed Blake as he ran past.
Harper’s eyes
snapped open as he set off after Blake.
He had no idea at this point that he would be dead in 24 hours.
Today marked the
end of the fishing season. This was a
day Harper anticipated every year. A torturous eight month slog at sea, and
finally some time to reacquaint himself with a life that was put on hold every
year since he was 17. Harper had
recently turned 35, yet his face seemed older, weathered by his years on the
boats. He had been offered many times to
captain his own vessel, but first mate had always been enough. Too many captains lose their houses, families
and hair to want to go down that path. He liked his hair, and as for family, he
hadn’t got that far yet.
As far as houses
go, his was modest. The doors whistled
and windows rattled under the strain of the constant wind that plagued every
seaside town. All of this was easily overlooked
as soon as you stepped foot inside. The
house became magical. 180-degree views
all the way from the boat harbour to the right down to surfies point on the
left. There he was, sandwiched right in
the middle of his two great loves.
Harper threw his
board onto the grass and stepped under the shower. The fresh water felt soft across his back,
especially after four hours in the surf.
“So that’s
it? Ya’ done for the season?” asked
Blake
“I think
so. Good riddance too, worst season
we’ve ever had.”
“Must be cause
for a celebration then?”
“How do you
figure that?” quizzed Harper
“Come on, we’re
all going into the city. Sarah is
bringing a friend of hers,” said Blake struggling to hide a smile.
The corner of
Harper’s mouth flickered as he said, “what’s that got to do with me?”
“Nothin’, just
sayin’ that’s all.” Barely containing his laughter.
Harper didn’t
say anything. Besides, there was really
no point. He and Blake had been friends
forever. They knew each other better than their own family, and by now Harper
knew resistance was useless. Turning to
pick up his board he felt a slap across his back, “7 o’clock. You won’t be disappointed!”
Ding-Dong. “Huh?” Harper said awaking
with a start. “Shit!” He had only sat
down for what felt like five minutes.
“Just a second” he yelled as he ran to find his best t-shirt and
cleanest pair of jeans. As he flung open the front door he said, “How come you
are always earl…” and stopping mid sentence he saw it was not Blake’s face
staring back, as he had expected, but a sweet, beautiful face.
“Harper?”
“errrrr, yeah”
“Hi, I’m
Emilia. I’m a friend of Sarah’s.”
“Ah, Right. Ok.”
“They told me to
meet here at 7. Sorry I’m a little early,” Emilia said with obvious
apprehension in her voice.
“Not at
all! Come in.”
“Thanks” Emilia
smiled, and entered.
As Harper
followed the silhouette, caused by the rapidly setting sun, down the hallway,
he heard the tone of a message emanate from the kitchen bench where his phone
resided.
“Can I get you a
drink?”
“Sure” Emilia
replied, clearly taken with the view of the ocean that greeted her upon arrival
to the lounge.
“Err, beer ok?”
Harper called from the kitchen
“Beer is good.”
The phone went
again, one of those helpful reminders that alert you to the fact you have forgotten
to check the awaiting message. ‘Harps!
Hope u have a good night! Catch ya tmo.
Blake’
“Prick!” Harper
said to himself.
With a mixture
of annoyance at his best friend setting him up, apprehension due to having a
mysterious woman in his house, and whatever feeling you would attribute to the
reality that he had nothing better to do, Harper entered the lounge carrying
two beers. “Have a seat, ummm, sorry
didn’t plan on visitors.” Looking around
the room saw an assortment of books, clothes and half unpacked backpacks
occupying each chair that inhabited the lounge.
“It would appear we have been setup.”
“Really? Maybe I
should go,” Emilia said with a glance at the door she had only moments ago
entered through.
“No!” Harper
said hastily with what could be akin to desperation.
Conversation
came easy between the two. There was
something natural about the connection, as if their friendship had been built
over year, instead of mere hours. They
talked of the past, of lost love and missed opportunities. They talked about travel and all the places
Emilia had visited as well as the fact that Harper had always lived in this
sleepy little fishing town.
Somewhere around
3am there was a pause in the conversation.
Not awkward, but rather expectant. Harper lent in and bang bang bang came a thunderous knock
at the door. “Wake up Harp, rumour is
fish are swimmin’, gotta’ one more time!”
“Can I see you
again?” Harper said softly. No words,
just a smile, a kiss, and she was gone.
“Gotta’ good
feelin’ ‘bout this trip.” The captain said. “Ready the nets, lets haul these
fuckers!”
The sky was
dark, and the sea rough but Harper felt at home. A wave crashed the side of the boat, throwing
the crew off balance. When Harper stood
a rope caught him around his ankle, as the captain shouted “Now!” Before he
knew it he was surrounded by water, the rope and net dragging him deep. Harper tried to pull himself free but the
force of the water made it impossible.
Moments stretched out as time seemed to slow, all he could think about
was Emilia. As the light faded and peace
fell over Harper, Emilia would be left to wonder what could have been.
