Anchored To You

Cheapter2 contd

I knew further conversation with him made no sense. Talking about successes, failures, the daily struggle at sea would be like banging my head against a wall. I preferred to spend a good evening with Julka. I invited her to our table. She brought a new glass and another bottle of wine. Mom watched in silence and smiled more and more widely.

The last thing I remembered was Dad’s vomit-covered jacket and trousers as he carried me piggyback to the yacht.

In the morning I woke up with a headache. Opening my left eye, my whole head hurt. I got dressed and went out on deck. The sun blinded me. I went down to my cabin for sunglasses. Everyone had finished breakfast. I looked at my watch. It was past nine.

Seeing me wrecked and dehydrated, everyone roared with laughter. Dad poured me a tall glass of orange juice and dropped in a hangover tablet.

– Drink. Your stomach won’t cooperate with food for a few hours.

– It won’t. – I took the glass and downed it in one go. Dad was amused. He walked away from us and lit a cigarette. – Dad, sorry about the jacket and trousers. I’ll clean them.

– I took them to the laundry this morning, but the shoes still need cleaning.

He glanced towards the entrance to the yacht. They lay on a rag and didn’t look good.

– Later. In half an hour we’re going shopping. The day after tomorrow we sail.

– Jeez, Dad. I can’t manage.

– That’s called adulthood, darling. You bear the consequences of your decisions.

– Couldn’t you have told me not to drink?

– Did I ever forbid you anything? I never encouraged you to drink wine. I usually supported you.

Even though the hangover didn’t create conditions for sober and analytical thinking, I had to admit Dad was right. He had always supported me, pushed me and helped me. When I caught the diving bug, he taught me to dive, bought equipment worth a fortune and was always with me. When I wanted to learn to fight, he devoted months and years so that I would be capable. Mom was always with me too. Both of them participated in my education. Mainly thanks to him my library was the largest in oceanography on this latitude.

– I know, Dad, but really today?

– Yes. If we’re to sail the day after tomorrow. The currents and wind will be favourable.

– I keep thinking that in a previous life you were either an overseer building the pyramids or standing on a watchtower.

The three of us went to the market. Amy and Hania stayed on the yacht. Hania was feeling unwell. Dad called an internist asking for a visit. He was worried about her. The doctor was supposed to come while we were shopping at the market.

We went from stall to stall. We bought vegetables, fruit, pasta, tins of whatever we could. Dad organised transport to the marina. Three-quarters of the delivery van was full. On the way he bought water. We unloaded our shopping from the car. Dad settled with the driver. What remained was carrying the shopping aboard and stowing it in the lockers and fridges. We circled endlessly between the marina and My Loves.

I had had enough. Sweat ran down my face and I kept wiping my eyes. The hangover was lighter but still finishing me off. What remained was stowing the provisions. That too was an art that only Dad possessed. Oranges far from apples, tomatoes far from cucumbers. Potatoes could lie anywhere as long as it wasn’t a warm, bright place. Water and tins had to be stacked evenly. Dad didn’t care where, as long as he knew where they were and didn’t have to search for three months. Wine and alcohol had a place of honour in the wine fridge and the freezer. In three airtight containers there were various tins, water, bread and of course alcohol. Dad carried them to the aft locker, next to the life raft. They were supposed to give us survival for up to four weeks in case My Loves sank.

The phone rang. I stood next to him, listening to the conversation.

– Mr Max, she received a glucose drip. I checked her sugar earlier. It’s normal. She’s nourished but weak. Blood pressure normal, ESR and blood count too.

– Doctor, are you able to diagnose any diseases?

– Mr Max, if she had coronary disease, cancer, diabetes, kidney, pancreas or liver disease, medicine would be able to help, or at least diagnose it. She’s approaching the end of her age. She’s ninety-four.

– Okay. Thank you.

Dad sat on the deck and lit a cigarette. He was worried. I decided to pull him out of those thoughts.

– Dad, already?

– My half-shoes.

Without a word I went for the vomit-covered shoes. I washed them, wiped them dry, applied polish and buffed them. Then I went to sleep.

After breakfast we cast off. I had the feeling that something new awaited me. We had over a thousand nautical miles to cover without a break. Bombay. I was full of hope.

The hangover left me and I felt “the power.” Mom went to sleep and curled up against Dad. I stood at the helm for eight hours. Dad came up on deck. He lit a cigarette.

We had to cross the Persian Gulf, the Gulf of Oman and finally a stretch of the Arabian Sea. The wind was pushing us towards the shore. Dad corrected the course and reefed the sails. He didn’t like doing that, but the southerly waves were rocking us like a bathtub. He lowered the keel fully. After correcting the course he pronounced:

– Seven days. According to the navigation. Why didn’t you wake me?

– I wanted you to get some sleep.

– Darling. Now you’ll sleep eight hours, Chiara too. And I’ll do sixteen at the helm.

– I don’t understand.

– If you have a four-hour watch, after four hours you go to sleep. Right?

– Right.

– Then Chiara and I sail the next eight hours, right?

– Right.

– You come on watch for four hours and have the rest of the time for yourself, right?

Only then did it hit me.

– Dad, I meant well.

– I know, darling. But well doesn’t always mean better. I’ll take the helm. You two rest.

I went below to my cabin. I was ashamed. I was a few weeks short of adulthood and I felt as stupid as a boot. Like that lamprey in a jar whose physiology, morphology and classification I had been studying. I fell asleep instantly. At four I woke up. It was still night. Mom was at the helm.

– Mom, want me to relieve you?

– No, make breakfast, darling. When Dad gets up he’ll be hungry. He hasn’t eaten for two days.

She was angry with me because I had disrupted the rhythm of the yacht and the crew.