Читать книгу Eastbound Sailing - Todd Foley - Страница 11

5. LOST PERSONA

5:25 AM came far too early for Aiden.

It was a sleepless night for the most part. He tended to not sleep that well the first night in a new place – let alone a place as dark, cold and rustic as Dad’s cabin.

Moonlight crept in through the living room windows, directly across from the loft. The light kept his senses alert and his mind racing. Not with anxiety; just restlessness.

He managed to sleep an hour here and there but the interruptions kept a deep sleep at bay. He heard frogs outside. Gusts of wind shook the trees, sending maple leaves and cedar bristles and small twigs onto the metal roof.

The distractions held little power compared to the white noise from today’s conversation with Rosemary.

Or was it yesterday? Sleepless nights make it hard to keep track of time.

Either way, he wasn’t expecting to get hit with such existential conversation when he got in his car that afternoon. Still, it was nice to at least have made some human contact. The talk was intellectually stimulating and he appreciated her thoughts – strange as the interaction was.

His mind switched back to assessing his current situation. The cabin was cold. Aiden guessed there wasn’t much insulation. He wrapped himself in the two thin quilts he found on the loft bed. They weren’t keeping him warm enough, and he was still wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he changed into when he got back from yesterday’s drive.

He climbed down the ladder and walked over to the wood stove. Couldn’t remember the last time he made an actual fire. There were a few pieces of firewood in a small black bucket by the stove along with a box of matches.

But no paper.

He remembered having a copy of The Seattle Times in the Civic. He put on his hoodie and braved the harsh wind to fetch the paper from the passenger seat. Yesterday’s news was today’s fuel source. Once insightful, now dispensable.

Much of life seemed to share that fate.

He ran back into the house, slammed the door shut and quickly crumpled up the paper, stacked it in with the firewood and lit a match. Took a few attempts, but the flames roared to life.

Aiden climbed back up to the loft and crawled under the quilts, still wearing his hoodie. He clenched his left hand into a fist and used his other hand to warm it, then curled up and brought his legs close to his stomach, adopting the fetal position.

Aiden wasn’t just cold; he was worn out and felt vulnerable to the cabin itself, like it was closing in on his lack of confidence and wealth of uncertainty.

Seemed to be the trend. Being without a sense of direction or even a roadmap made for an unfortunate transition.

The heat quickly filled the room and rose up to the loft. Too warm for the quilts.

Aiden threw them off and rolled over to his side and felt some fatigue kicking in.

But his mind still couldn’t shut down. Still couldn’t drown out the frogs and the wind.

Still couldn’t answer Rosemary’s question.

“What brings an intelligent, big-city guy like you to Cielo Island of all places?”

He didn’t know.

It was getting warmer. He unzipped the hoodie and threw it to the far corner of the loft.

“Intelligent” was the last connotation he would assign to himself right now. He had no degree, no professional experience outside of food service, no romantic companions with which to find blissful distraction, no strong friendships to rely on for guidance and no healthy family relationships to turn to for support – emotional or financial.

That’s how Aiden saw it, at least. The last thing he wanted to be was a pity-whore always finding something wrong with his situation. He knew he fell victim to that.

“Your problems and anxieties are far more interesting than anyone else’s,” Rosemary had said.

She had a point.

He still was too warm.

Stripped down to his grey t-shirt and black briefs. It was almost too warm for the shirt, but Aiden had always been self-conscious about his hairy gut, even when no one else was around.

Finally he was comfortable. He stretched out on his back and enjoyed the heat, hoping that it would relax his mind into a deep sleep.

Sleep didn’t come, so he surrendered to restlessness.

Aiden sat up, swung his legs over to the side of the bed and looked down from the loft.

The moon lit up the cabin just enough to make it visible to the eye. It had an eerie ambiance, no doubt, but it also had a sense of comfort that Aiden couldn’t deny.

Peaceful darkness.

Calming isolation.

Quiet.

He couldn’t pin it down.

He didn’t need to.

All he had to do was give up hopes of sleeping that night. But the cabin’s eerie comfort was countered by trying to make sense of the vague memories of his last time on Cielo – memories conjured up by the cabin’s furnishings.

Aiden got off the bed and climbed down the ladder, feeling a noticeable coolness compared to the warmth of the loft. The balance was good, so he left his pants off. It was dark enough that even he could barely see himself.

He stood near the fireplace with his back facing the heat, warming his bare legs while he looked outward into the moon-lit living room. A small love seat stood against the loft wall to his left and an arm chair was on the opposite wall. Where Dad must have read his books by the fire, he thought.

The cabin had a natural cooling effect – more psychological than physical. The sensation that comes when you’re not sure what lies around the corner. Or even directly in front of you.

Aiden could see, but the sights were what brought the eerie coolness. Remnants of Dad. His passions, his hobbies. His life.

Dad’s old fishing pole was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. He took Aiden to fish at a lake when they came to the island. A small, rain-fed lake that was a popular spot for swimming and fishing. The island council had to bring in a load of trout each year to replenish the fish supply.

On that summer day 17 years ago, Dad taught Aiden how to fish. He threw the line and handed the pole over to Aiden, who wasn’t confident to do it himself. More than a dozen casts and not one bite – unless it was Dad who cast it. Even the trout sensed his lack of confidence and affirmed his absent desire for adventure.

The fishing pole and its respective experience should have brought a peaceful stillness to Aiden’s spirit. Where he looks back and sees a definitive moment in his life. One of those “All is well” milestones.

Instead, it set the precedent for his self-assigned inferiority. Wherever there’s inferiority, there’s a dominating figure acting as the source of inferior energy. Dad just happened to be on the receiving end of it – not by Aiden’s choice or by Dad’s doing. Just circumstantial.

Why circumstances played out the way they did, Aiden didn’t know. But he didn’t try to change or counter them. In Rosemary’s words, he let himself become the “victimized star” of his world. Everyone else was living in that world, always one step ahead of Aiden.

His legs were getting warm. Time to move.

He sat in the nearby arm chair, its cool velvet upholstery refreshingly comfortable on his warm skin. There was a small end table on the right side. On it was a picture.

Aiden and Dad in downtown Seattle from two Christmases ago. Dad looked happily at Mom who was behind the camera. Aiden’s face told the viewer that the yuletide greetings of Christmas were far from his mind. He wanted to be somewhere else.

This picture was on display at Dad’s funeral.

It was the last picture of them together.

He was stuck with that dissatisfied expression for the rest of his life, and Dad went to the grave before another picture could be taken. Before Aiden could express any gratitude or appreciation. Mom was transferred to a nursing home shortly after.

That memory haunted Aiden every day since the funeral. The photo was the first thing he saw when he walked into the cabin but couldn’t bear to acknowledge it for fear of having to relive the memory.

Fear of admitting to the rest of the story.

Aiden didn’t cry at the funeral; he still hadn’t cried. He was simply numb that day, and he remained numb to this day. He was still too numb to feel any remorse or closure.

Closure involves all the facts, and he knew which ones ought to remain off the record.

That was his life, his fate. He forged that fate for himself. And here he was, sitting in the chair where Dad must have read great stories, prayed for his family and reflected on a life well lived.

Aiden felt more distanced from human contact than ever. He sat there, motionless and still with quiet breaths.

“I don’t know how to grieve.”

He said it out loud and remained motionless, unsure how to physically respond to those words.

Those words were more revelatory than confessional. Maybe the most important revelation he’d ever had.

Maybe the only one he’d ever had.

Aiden was self-aware, no doubt. He lived his life in retrospect. When he did live in the present, it was purely analytical. Looking around and dissecting what he saw. People, things, smells, sounds.

He wasn’t one to analyze himself.

Until now.

It was this cabin. He didn’t have any specific memories of him and Dad here, but it was a reminder of the start of Aiden’s self-destructive perception of himself and a cruel world revolving around him in mockery, scorn and judgment.

It still held that power over him. He always felt the lack of confidence, but never had it been so vivid as being in the cabin and practically feeling Dad’s presence here. Aiden didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he believed that memories could become imbedded in respective physical objects and can then be emanated back to their subjects. Like the fishing pole.

Maybe there was more about Dad to be learned from this place, from his belongings.

Maybe Aiden wanted to know more, to glean insights about the father he never took the time to get to know.

Or maybe, just maybe, cutting off his ties with the cabin and Cielo altogether was his way out.

Maybe it was the first step on his road to recovery.

His emotional emancipation after which he could experience human contact.

His liberation from self-doubt.

This was it. This was his beginning, the reason that brought him back to Cielo after all these years.

He was sure of it.

He felt sure.

Sure enough.

Aiden was going to sell the cabin.