Anchored To You

Chapter3

I went to the mess and started preparing breakfast. Cutting or cooking anything in those waves was a feat. I was being thrown left and right. Pulling out tomatoes or lettuce was a feat in itself. Mom was laughing in the semi-darkness. I was being tossed around and felt completely clumsy. I just thought, “You’ll see!”

I had to think fast. Preparing anything on a plate made no sense. Dad’s favourite baked dishes! I took out the mushrooms and rather chopped them than sliced them. I might as well have been given an axe instead of a knife. I threw them onto the pan and set about the onion. I stood in a wide stance between the oven and the island and had to count to ten because I was getting furious. In the meantime I bumped my head against the range hood four times.

I had to hold the pan the whole time. Putting the bakes into the oven, which was swinging wildly back and forth, I felt anger. I wanted to give it a proper thrashing. Awareness of the consequences won.

Dad got up half-conscious. He gratefully accepted a mug of coffee and set it aside. He took two of the bakes out of the oven, kissed me on the forehead and put them on plates. He cut one of them into smaller pieces. He went to Amy and Hania’s cabin. I followed him with his mug of coffee. He leaned over Auntie while at the same time handing a plate to Amy. He nodded to me to indicate I should pass the tea. After a longer moment I returned.

– Auntie, good morning. The best breakfast in the world!

He lifted her as if she were a feather and propped her against the pillows. He handed her the plate and took the mug of tea from me. Hania could barely swallow.

– Auntie, you have to eat everything so you’ll have strength.

– Max, I have no strength.

– I know, Auntie. That’s why you have to eat. Unless you fancy something else.

– No, no. It’s fine.

– Miss Amy, will you make sure Auntie eats her breakfast? I have to go to the helm. Chiara needs to rest.

– Yes, Mr Max.

– Thank you.

For as long as I could remember they had always addressed each other formally, even though Chiara was her daughter. That distance and mutual respect had probably allowed them to keep a healthy sense of proportion in many situations. It wasn’t about s*x. More about the relationship. Amy was much older than my father. She had looked after me basically since I was born.

On his way back through the mess Dad poured coffee into a second mug. He added sugar and put it in the microwave for thirty seconds. He decorated it with whipped cream from a can. I watched him and wondered what was going on. The same waves, yet he wasn’t bouncing around like me, despite his height. In his hands the mug was like a gimbal — it moved with the yacht and the waves. Laterally and longitudinally. His legs worked with the yacht. Finally I understood.

Going up on deck via the companionway, he didn’t cling awkwardly to the handrail like me. He swayed with the yacht while carrying two mugs. He handed one to Mom. He kissed and hugged her.

– How are you, darling?

– Quiet. I raised the sails a bit because the wind started to ease.

– Sensible. Rest. I’ll take the helm.

– It’s fine. I can keep sailing… everything’s okay!

– No! Ewa messed things up. Now it has to be put back in order.

I felt ashamed again. I had meant well. It had turned out the usual way.

After ten days we reached Mundra Bay. The journey had stretched out. But the captain had counted on that. At a walking pace he approached a free dock. He asked the harbour master whether dock seventy-nine was free. He received the answer that it was not. Dad had to argue with the harbour master over the radio, seeing a berth available while the man stubbornly claimed there was none. It was a strange conversation. The place was there, and yet it wasn’t. He decided not to argue with him. After all, the man was in charge here. He turned practically on the spot thanks to the side thrusters and headed south. Less than five miles further on we came alongside in a port. It wasn’t a marina, more a cargo port, but we had no problem with that.

Dad changed into a tracksuit and pulled out his sports shoes, which he put on on the gangway.

– And where are you going?

– I’m going for a run, darling.

– Max! No!

– But darling…

– Max! No!

– But what?

– Come here.

Dad took off his shoes and stepped back on board, putting his arms around Mom around the middle. Or almost the middle. She reached a little above his chest. Not like me. A dwarf.

– I’m going for a run, darling.

– Uh-huh… and this run is going to take you exactly ten miles?

– If I run faster it’ll take less.

– Very funny, ha ha. If you beat his face in there’ll be trouble.

Dad smiled broadly. He adjusted his ponytail again, put on the sports shoes and ran off. Mom sat on the starboard side and hid her face in her hands.

– Mom, what’s going on?

– He’s gone to punch the harbour master’s face in.

– For what?

– Because he was expecting a bribe.