The Weight of a Thousand Oceans

by Jillian Webster

  Maia’s grandpa wakes the next morning to a smoldering fire and Maia’s head resting on his lap. He gently sweeps back her hair and her eyes flutter open.

  She looks up at him and smiles. “Hi, Grandpa.”

  “Hi, darling.”

  She lifts herself up and stacks new logs on the fire.

  “You came back,” her grandfather says as he coughs into his towel.

  “Grandpa, what were you doing out there? You could’ve died.”

  “I know.”

  “Was that your intention?”

  “God, no. I was waiting for you … I was thinking.”

  “You were drinking. You pulled out your whisky reserves?”

  “Yes, I do that from time to time.”

  She sits on the ottoman and sighs. “Are you feeling warm?”

  “Yes, thank you for taking care of me.”

  “Thank you for taking care of me, Grandpa.”

  He shakes his head and gazes back at the fire. “I don’t know about that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think these last couple days. A lot.” He looks up at her, his tender eyes pleading. “I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

  She shakes her head. “Wrong … about what?”

  He sighs. “Life. It’s so different now from when I was young. We had the whole world available to us and we took advantage of that. People, education, food, big cities, travel. Life was expansive and the opportunities were endless. I know what it’s like to feel restless, and I went out and saw the world. I can imagine what you’re feeling now, what you have been feeling for years when I force you to stay here.” He closes his eyes and massages his forehead.

  “I see the way you look to the horizon,” he says without looking up. “The restlessness in your soul. I saw the way you looked when the few available men up north stumbled over you. Your face … you were horrified.” His voice catches and he looks up at her. “I can’t get that look out of my head.”

  “You saw that.” Anger surges from within her. “So why push it on me!?” she yells.

  He reaches for her hand and she snatches it away, glaring at him through the haze of her tears.

  “Because I thought … I still think the situation could change. People will keep coming in from other places. The people up there now are not the official be-all-and-end-all of the tribe. It will keep growing. Just because you go up there, it doesn’t mean you have to procreate with those old men.”

  She turns away, feeling as if her head is being shoved under water.

  “But—”

  Surprised, she looks back at him.

  “The only thing worse than the thought of me dying and leaving you up here alone is the thought of you settling up north in a life you resent. You’d be alive, but my darling granddaughter would die.” A tear falls down his crinkled face. “You would end up like your mother, and your mother … she died anyway.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Stop saying that, child! Your mother died long before she got pregnant with you. You—you gave her hope. And now, here you are … you’re still alive. We’ve made it through the hardest years. You’re a full-grown woman now. There were so many nights I was sure we’d never make it. I’ve never worked so tirelessly, worried myself sick, or sacrificed every fraction of my being as much as I have in raising you. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be safe, to be content, and maybe create a family of your own. But I can’t force you to stay here, Maia. I know you dream about your mother. I know you feel a pull to go out and find a new life. And I know you’re capable. But you could die out there, Maia.”

  “I know.”

  “You simply can’t imagine what it’s like out there. And what—you’d go alone? The atrocities that people are capable of are what got us in this mess in the first place. The danger awaiting you out there surely would be…”

  She leans her head back and closes her eyes as his words slice through her like blades. His voice raises, asking her if she’s listening. She’s heard it all before. Over and over and over again.

  “But,” he continues, “I’m not so naïve to deny that you could also find life.”

  This is a trick.

  “Maia, please look at me.”

  Her head flops forward and she looks in his direction, but not in his eyes. Not his eyes. She can’t.

  “Darling, please.”

  She inhales and finally looks at him, preparing herself for a lecture.

  “Your mother’s spirit lives within you. She wanted to go out and find a better life and I stopped her. I won’t die making that same mistake again. If you want to find another life, then I have no choice but to help you. We can take our time and make a plan. I don’t love the idea, but I will help you in every way I can.”

  “How much weed did you put in that pipe?”

  He snorts.

  “Grandpa—are you serious?”

  “I have to be. Your life is not mine to dictate. I won’t lose you, Maia, not like this. Not again.”

  “So … you’ll help me. You’re going to help me? Leave?”

  “Baby steps, Maia. There’s a lot to do. This could take years.”

  She glares at him, lost for words.

  “You can trust me. I wouldn’t tease you about this.”

  She studies his face—the tired, loving look in his eyes. This man, this man has been her whole life, her best friend, her mentor. “You support this?”

  “I support you, Maia. You are my baby. You are the only thing in the world that matters. I will not clip your wings, even if that means losing you. Eventually, I knew I’d have to let you go. I guess I just hoped you wouldn’t go … so far.” He smiles. “I support you.”

  With that, Maia drops her head in her hands and sobs. After all this time, so much fighting and tension between them. Can this really be happening?

  She looks up at him. “Grandpa, I’m terrified. Every day I’m terrified. What if I leave everything behind to find nothing?”

  “Then, my darling, you’ve left everything behind to find nothing. I suppose you come back. But Maia, that’s generally not the way things work. You may not ever be able to come home again—not to the home you left. Things change, people change, you’ll change. I may not be here anymore. That’s the deal you make.”

  Dissatisfied, she grabs a rod and pokes at the fire. “Tell me about The Old Arctic Circle.”

  “I was going to talk to you about that—”

  Maia rolls her eyes. More lies. “When?” She turns to look at him. “Honestly? When were you going to tell me? When were you going to tell me that my parents were planning to go there … that you wanted to go there, with me? How could you…” She pauses, swallowing back her tears. “How could you lie to me for so long?”

  His face is horrified. “Oh, darling, I …” He looks down. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “I’m getting a little sick of hearing that.”

  “You found your father.”

  She stabs the logs, sending sparks into the air.

  “I was only trying to protect you.”

  “You can’t protect me anymore, Grandpa. I’m a grown woman now.”

  “You’ll always be my baby.”

  “Stop it! Can’t you see that you protecting me is only hurting me more?”

  Her grandfather looks stunned. “You’re right. Okay,” he says after a while. He pulls himself upright in his chair. “So, here it is. I didn’t tell you about your father because he is a coward and a drunk and I thought it would be dangerous if he knew about you. He can’t be trusted. He was bad news before your mother, but after he lost her, he became a bit of a loose cannon.”

  “And The Old Arctic Circle?”

  “I didn’t tell you about The Old Arctic Circle because … hell, who really knows about that place. It’s a great story—a myth even—about this place that used to exist, but no one knows for sure anymore. And now it’s been so long that there’s no
way of telling. I’ve heard rumors around the islands over the years about people traveling there. But when they leave, they don’t come back. We never hear from them again. For all we know, it could be an old legend. So, I hope you could understand if I was going to support you doing anything, of course I was going to try to keep you here.”

  “But … Mum was going to go there? You were going to go there? My father said you told him you were.”

  “I did. Yes…” He nods. “I did. But that was when you were a baby. I thought maybe we would go once you were a bit older … five or six even. It would have given me time to prepare. I’d heard the rumors, had a few friends who had packed up and made the journey there. I got excited. But as I started getting older, my health wasn’t the greatest, and the journey required to get us there was more than I was willing to risk.

  “And I didn’t see what was so wrong with this life anyway. I’ve worked really hard to make something really great up here. In the end, I didn’t want to leave. And you seemed happy.” He pulls his cloth from his shirt pocket and wipes the tears from his eyes. “Maia … it wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean, I didn’t do so wrong by you, did I?”

  “Of course not, Grandpa.”

  “You’re my family. So, I was selfish, and I’m sorry for that. I pushed the Northern Islands on you more and more because it is the safest option. Sailing out into the world … I can’t imagine how we’d do it. But I can’t leave you here alone. I can’t leave you with no plan, no help, no family. I’m no dummy. I know you won’t do something you don’t want to do. Demanding you go to the Northern Tribe is not only hurting you and hurting me, but it’s a waste of precious time. I see that now.” He looks up at her with heavy eyes.

  “Those dreams I’ve had for years, about Mum…” Maia begins.

  “Yes.”

  “Those are also my nightmares. The longer I ignore them, the worse they get. They used to be full of laughter on the beach, but now she drifts out into this endless abyss of ocean, calling out to me to come. And now … now there is this massive city behind her, looming in the distance. And there’s a city below her, in the water. Like the cities you say exist all over the world now. This entire time, she’s been calling me to The Old Arctic Circle.”

  He sighs and reaches out to her. “I don’t know what else to say. If you really feel that strongly about it, then I will help you in any way that I can.”

  “But you said you can’t imagine how I’d make it over there.”

  “I can’t. I honestly can’t. But we will take our time and we’ll figure it out. We’ll make a plan for every situation. We’ll train you and run exercises. We’ll build a goddamn boat if we have to. Or we can travel the islands and barter for someone else to. We’ve got a lot to offer. Besides, life up here is getting a little boring.” He winks. “If it takes us five years, then at least in five years, you can think about it again and if you still want to go, you will be prepared.”

  “Thank you, Grandpa. Thank you.”

  “And if you change your mind, that’s fine too. Maybe before you leave, you could visit the North—”

  “Stop.”

  He chuckles. “Okay.” He plasters a sarcastic smile across his face and she can’t help but laugh. “So, what do you say? Are we doing this? Because I’m ready, I’ll start tomorrow.”

  She glances back at the tiger painting, then at her grandfather. She smiles, feeling like a million butterflies may burst out from within her. “Yes, let’s do this.”

  He pulls himself up from his chair and wipes his eyes. “Well, all right. Come here.”

  She wraps her arms around him.

  “My baby. My baby,” he repeats as she rests her head on his chest. “Did I ever tell you when I first picked you up, this is right where you put your head? Right here.” He pauses, patting the side of her face. “Right where you belong.”

  “Yes, a few hundred times now, Grandpa.”

  “My baby.” He holds her tight. “We’re going to make this right. We’re going to make a plan for your life.”

  Twelve

  The next morning, Maia awakens with a deep sense of peace. Smiling, she stretches her arms high above her head, then rips open her privacy curtains to find the early morning sun flooding beneath the front door. She runs across the room towards her sleeping grandfather and jerks open his curtains. “Rise and shine!”

  He shields his eyes from the light. Moaning, he sits up. “I already regret this decision.”

  Maia heads to the kitchen. Latching open the stove door, she throws in a few bricks of wood. “Let’s do this!”

  Her grandfather smiles. “It’s nice seeing some life in you again.”

  Maia walks to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair. “Where shall we begin?”

  Her grandfather grunts as he pulls himself out of bed. He hobbles towards the table. “So … that wasn’t just a nightmare I had last night?” he jokes as he plops down into a chair.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Maia says as she pours him a cup of water.

  He looks up at her over his spectacles. “So … The Old Arctic Circle it is, then?”

  She nods, waiting for him to change his mind.

  “Okay, then. The Old Arctic Circle.” He stares blankly ahead, clearly trying to prepare himself for something he isn’t ready for.

  Maia holds her breath.

  “Okay,” he says again. “We’re going to need a serious plan. And for that—”

  “We’ll need paper,” Maia says with a sigh.

  “Lots of it, I’m afraid,” he adds.

  “There’s none around the local towns,” Maia says. “I know that for sure; I cleaned those out years ago. I could always go on a mission.”

  He looks up at her and smiles. “I have something for you … in the shed library.”

  Standing below the towering stacks of books, her grandfather raises a single shaking finger. “Up there.”

  “You want me to get something from all the way up there?”

  “There’s a ladder in the garden shed.”

  She shoots him a dubious look.

  “You’ll probably want some sort of rake, too, to pull it down. It’s a little higher than any ladder will go.”

  “How did you even—”

  “Off you go.” He shoos her.

  Maia runs across the yard to the garden shed and pulls out the longest metal ladder she can find. Back in the library, she places it against the shelving and climbs up the rungs. Her grandfather hands her the rake and she hooks it across the top of a box. “This one, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “How am I supposed to—”

  “Just knock it down … nothing in there that will break.”

  She slides the box off the top shelf. With no lid, the contents spill out as it falls. Scores of papers scatter across the room, along with pencils, pens, and crayons. Maia hurries down the ladder and picks up a faded box of Crayola crayons.

  “Where did you…”

  “I’ve been saving it for you. For the day you have children of your own. No child should live a life without crayons and paper.”

  “Grandpa.”

  He shrugs as he looks around, then wipes a tear from his eye. “I saved more than I thought. Guess I got a little excited.”

  Maia’s shoulders slump and the crayons slip from her hand, hitting the ground with a loud thud. “What is this…” she whispers. “A guilt trip?”

  “No, darling,” he says softly. He picks up a piece of paper from the ground and walks over to her. Grabbing her hand, he flips it open and places the paper on top, and then places his hand on top of the paper. “I saved this box of supplies as an act of faith. Faith that someday, when you were grown, you would use it in a way that celebrated life. This box of paper is a celebration. The fact that we stand here today, about to use them, is a dream come true. I hid them away when you were a child, knowing if you found them, you would have used every last one.” He chuckles. “It was a
significant act of faith for me, to save something for a future I feared may never come.

  “Maia, these papers were always meant to be filled by you. They were always meant for this moment. I just didn’t know it until now. Take them. Fill them up with your plans.”

  She pulls her hand from between his and the paper falls to the ground. He looks at her, unsure.

  She smiles at him through her tears. “Okay, Grandpa.”

  He beams. “Okay.”

  Over the course of a few hours, the kitchen table becomes a disarray of papers, pencils, and stacks of books. Plans, plans for plans, and backup plans are all initiated and placed in binders.

  “What do we do about a boat?” Maia asks while flipping through another survival book.

  “Probably have to barter for one. Maia?”

  She dog-ears a page before looking up at him.

  “I hate to ruin this moment, but the elders of the Northern Tribe are still coming.”

  She looks back to her book. “I know.”

  “It’s actually a good thing,” he says, ignoring her growl. “Saves us a trip up there. They’re our best option for bartering. Maybe we could start a list of what we can offer in exchange for a boat. Or help in learning to sail. It’s been ages since you and I have navigated our way around a ship; I’m sure you could use a refresher course.”

  “I don’t need them for a boat. I could have a look again for one around here, there’s got to be something.”

  “Nah, I reckon most have been taken. There have been a few decades of people coming and going.”

  “There’ll be something.”

  “Okay, just don’t count it out. You may need to go up there and work for a while in exchange for one. Just brainstorming here—”

  “Ugh—no. I’d rather build one. Or die.”