A Storm’s Gathering

Many people get sick on a boat, I just fall asleep. The rocking and rolling of the ship always hushes me quickly into a deep and most of the time relaxing sleep. And so I didn’t even notice that the weather was changing on the way to the island.

Spray was foaming around the bow, as the ship made its way back to the mainland. By the time the vessel had disappeared behind the earth’s curvature, we had eventually reached the top of the hill with the weather-beaten cottage on it. A massive wall of clouds was closing in rapidly from the west and seemed to float only a few inches above the fuming waters of the roaring sea.
“Isn’t this something?!” I said, looking around while dropping my backpack in one of the armchair in the main room of the cottage.
“At least the roof seems to be intact, so we won’t get wet in here.” he said, inspecting the thatched roof thoroughly with a flickering torch from inside the house.
“You’re hopeless,” I laughed, “you don’t have any sense of romance.”
“Well, I like the setting, though.”
“Fine, it was your plan, after all. Although, you seem a bit tense, as if you weren’t in the mood for a weekend on a remote island.”
“But I am.”
“Oh, that’s very convincing.” I said, “Just relax!”, and then I kissed him softly on his cheek. Since it was very dark inside the house already, he lit the oil lamp on the table in the middle of the room, while I took the food out of the plastic bags and put it onto the kitchen counter.
“I’m going outside for a quick smoke before the storm picks up. You might want to get the stove ready for the cooking?!” I said.
“Will do that. But, ahem, I took the tobacco out of your bag … because you said you would have a smoke-free weekend, do you remember?!”
“I do. But you did not, did you?!” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“Oh yes, I did take it out!”
“Take care of the stove then, I would like to be alone now!” I said detached. Then I opened the door, full of zest. The wind had picked up and pushed through the door inside the cottage, throwing the paraffin lamp off the edge of the table. The petroleum quickly spilled over the floor and caught fire instantly. But he, in the presence of his mind, took the huge and thick blanket from the big leather couch and threw it over the little sea of flames before the fire could spread to the furniture. Entirely unaffected by this, I went outside and slammed the door shut behind me.

Inside the small house, under the heavy blanket, a lonely book of soaking wet matches was lying in a shallow but colourful lake of oil. I, however, sat in a spanking breeze on a dry wooden bench under a group of wind-beaten pine trees, gazing out at the rocky beach and the pier. I was lost in thoughts. The wind had picked up even more and it had started to drizzle, as well. I was just flicking pine cones indifferently into a rusty bucket full of holes, when it started pouring down.

“Are you waiting for me to do what women are supposed to do in the kitchen or why didn’t you get the fire going in the stove?” I said sarcastically when I came back inside.
“I couldn’t find any dry matches.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant! Were those the only ones you brought? Who would bring matches anyway?!”
“Yes, only wet ones.” he grinned, misjudging the situation, “But I was wondering if you had a …”
“… lighter on me, yeah? No! I’m so sorry, but Mr Smarty Pants here thought it best to patronise me in health matters, and left my smoking utensils at home. So no lighter here on that island.”
“But there has to be a lighter somewhere! Can you check your stuff?!”
“No, not here. Remember what the landlord said: What you don’t bring to the island, you won’t find here on the island. Well, I wanted to bring a lighter, but you …”
“Cut it, will you?!” he hissed, “I was only thinking of the baby!”
“What baby?”
“Our baby!”
“Sweet fucking Jesus, I’m not even pregnant!”
“But we said, we want to have a baby?!” He said uncertain.
“At some point, yes. But right now, I’m not so sure anymore.”
“What is this supposed to mean?”
“What I’m saying is that I do not like the situation we both are in here, at the moment.”
“Well, I don’t like it either, but we have to make the best of this here; the weather, the cottage, the stove, the island and all that.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?”
“We’ve been through this before.” With a big bang the wind pushed the window open. “It has to be our decision. We both have to agree. Not only you. Do you understand?!”
“Yes, I do. But I thought we agreed on this. And this weekend …” he stopped and closed the window again.
“… you wanted to get me pregnant and make your mother proud of her son. That’s very considerate of you. But where am I in all of this? Am I just your baby machine?”
“No, of course, you’re not! But I come from a very traditional family and there are certain expectations one has to answer. And you know my mother.”
“Of course I do! I remember her very well!”
“So you know what I mean. She can be very demanding, sometimes.”
“Very nice, nicely put! If I remember her correctly, though, then she was the one who treated me like a retarded person with impaired judgement. She was also the one who told me that spotting and continuous bleeding during pregnancy is normal. She has also refused to call the doctor to have me checked, when my body rejected the life that was supposed to be growing inside of me.”
“I’m sure, she only had the best intentions, and as you may also remember, she is not a doctor!”
“So why didn’t she call for one when I lay there dying? She wanted the baby at all cost! When push had come to shove, even over my dead body! She sat there by the bed, praying for the baby’s life. Not for mine! The baby was already dead and rotting, poisoning me from inside! But she kept praying!”
“She is a very …”
“Don’t say religious woman, because that is biblical bullshit! And you are missing the point here.”
“And the point is?”
“That you make decisions over my head and infantilise me. That’s the fucking point! Do you want to put me through all of this again? Without even asking me?! Am I just a tool for you to please your mother?” I shouted at him, when all of a sudden a branch from the pine trees broke off and came flying through the window, scattering the shards of broken glass all over the place.

“Hey, wake up, we are there, on the island.” He said, while he gently shook me awake. I felt the warm sun on my skin, again. And I could even see the orange colour that the sunbeams had painted my closed eyelids with.
Even though moored to the pier, the boat was still rolling slightly. So I opened my eyes, jumped up, grabbed my backpack and ran off the boat. I didn’t want to fall asleep again.