by Amber Burns
She chuckled.
“No doubt that meant the world to him.”
The storm raged for days on end, and when it started calming toward the end Michel went out to open the steel shutters. Annabelle walked out onto the porch, acting as towel-bearer again, and was shocked by how badly eroded the beach was. She looked toward her end of the beach and her heart sank when she saw planking and roof struts washed into the surf. She asked Michel if they could take a walk in that direction later to survey the damage.
12
It still rained softly, and the wind blew in odd gusts across the soaked sand as we made our way toward Annabelle’s house. Debris was scattered far and wide across the landscape, and we had to pick our way across washed up undergrowth and dead fish. There was even a freezer lying in the shore-break, and timber from what looked like various roof structures. I held her hand and guided her across a roof beam.
“Looks like this wind and surf really packed a whopper on a few houses.”
She walked silently at my side, I knew she was freaking out about what state we were going to find her own house in. When we arrived at the section of beach in front of it, I could almost feel her panic and pain. The water had eaten the beach away, eroding the sand out from under the porch of the house. I wrapped her in my arms as she started sobbing. The front of the house had collapsed into the eroded space. It looked as though the whole structure had melted and slid sideways.
“Oh Anna, I am sorry baby.”
At that her dad came clambering over the rubble around the side of the house. He called to her from the shrubbery.
“Annabelle, angel, don’t come closer to the front of the house, everything is unstable here, if you want to come closer, come around the back by the road.”
She shook her head where it lay against my chest.
“It’s okay daddy,” she called. “I don’t really want to go closer.”
She collapsed back against me, and I waved to her dad.
“Are you okay Roy? Your house still standing?”
“Yeah, I was sheltered by this one,” he gestured to the wreckage of Anna’s home. “Mine is perfectly fine.”
“Okay, that’s good, I am going to take Anna back to my place, we have some paperwork to do for this.”
I gestured to the wreckage before I turned her around to take her home. We slowly made our way back, and when we got into the house Anna reached for Armand and cuddled him to her chest. He lay purring in her arms and rubbed his head under her chin as she sank down into a little heap in front of the couch. I sat down behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Do you know off-hand who holds all the insurance policies for the house Anna?”
She looked up at me, her eyes huge, pools of deep turquoise tragedy but mildly blank from the anti-anxiety tablet she had taken from her purse.
“I do, um, it’s a firm in Galveston, I will phone my dad for their details. He has a folder with copies of everything important…”
She dropped her head, stroking Armand, who had turned over to curl up on her lap where she sat.
“Michel, I’ve just lost everything I own. What am I going to do?”
I didn’t know what to say without offending her, so I decided on an honest approach.
“I know what it feels like to lose everything, trust me, and you will get through this. Now, don’t take this as pity or charity, but I have the means to help you get back on your feet. Will you let me?”
She turned around, facing me cross-legged from the floor.
“Why would you want to do that? I don’t deserve your kindness.”
It was such a frank statement that it caught me off-guard.
“Anna, you’re going to be my wife, I am going to look after you when I need to, and this, this is simply a hiccup in life. I know it feels as if everything fell apart when you saw that house back there, but we will salvage what we can from your personal things, and we can replace the rest.”
She shook her head and then leaned forward to lay her forehead against my knees.
“Michel, thank you. It is just hard for me after Malcolm… You understand?”
“I do, but take things one day at a time, and let me help you.”
She nodded, and then added, “Please tell me tonight why you understand so well what loss feels like, and why you are so convinced your past is a dark and horrible thing.”
I tucked Annabelle into my bed for a nap, she was an absolute emotional wreck and fell asleep in no time at all snuggled up with the cat in her arms. I phoned her dad and got all the details needed, and then made the necessary calls to insurance brokers. Inspectors would be coming in the next few days to look things over and give us an idea of whether a rebuild was feasible, and if not, what she could do. Engineers would also be around to guide her through retrieving personal items from the wreckage, if that was possible. It was going to be a very big process, but she would be fine.
While she napped I started making spaghetti bolognaise for dinner, there was ground beef-mince that had defrosted when the power went out, and bolognaise was where my skills fell. If I was going to spill about my past I needed food first. I was busy uncorking a bottle of Bordeaux when Annabelle came stumbling through, her hair still sleep-mussed while she rubbed her eyes.
“Hey, that smells great, I’m actually hungry,” she mumbled.
“Good, maybe it will taste good if you are starving enough,” I said, reaching over to hug her.
Outside it had gotten dark and I looked at the clock.
“I can’t believe where the day has gone, it’s already nearly eight o’ clock.”
I reached for wine glasses and poured a glass for each of us, guiding her out to the porch. My fairy lights had been blown down and I looked in dismay at the tangle left hanging from the open beams.
“So much for those plans.”
“What plans?” she asked.
I smiled, and pointed to the lights.
“I was planning on surprising you and putting a nice outdoor day-bed under these lights where we could spend lazy afternoons, make love, drink wine…”
My mind ran away with me. She giggled.
“We can fix them, the spot is perfect, it is sheltered, faces the sea, and big enough for one of those round woven wicker-type day-beds.”
She took a sip of her wine and walked back inside.
“Let’s go relax inside.”
As we both sat down on the couch the power came back on, the lights that we had left on flickered and then burned brightly, and I heard the refrigerator and freezer hum back to life.
“Oh thank heavens,” she exhaled a huge sigh of relief, and jumped to her feet.
I watched as she walked to my Laptop and booted it up, switching on classical music.
“That’s better, the silence has been driving me insane, I hate silence,” she muttered.
She came back to sit next to me as Bach’s Cello suite no. 1 trilled to life in the background. She turned her back toward me and sank back to rest her head on my chest. I marveled at how much she was like a kitten, she loved physical contact, being touched, stroked and cuddled.
Once my dinner was ready I dished up enough for about six. When we sat down to eat, she folded her legs under her, sitting on the floor, and the moment I’d been dreading arrived.
“Tell me about your past Michel.”
My heart automatically started pounding, it was something I had been dreading, no matter how well I was aware of the fact that it was time I told her.
“Right, I do think you need to know about how I grew up and what my childhood and teenage years entailed. I never want you hearing things behind my back. I am terrified of how you’ll see me after I tell you though.”
“I grew up in Miami with my mother and father. School was a pain because I got bullied mercilessly. I ran away from home when I was thirteen, some friends I had were making money robbing local bottle-stores and twenty-four hour gas stations. When one of them got shot, I got much deeper into gangla
nd Miami, and vanished all together from home presence. Where they could reach me before, they then couldn’t find me.”
We ate for a while in silence before I continued.
“I was fourteen when I stole a car, and at fifteen I shot a man who caught me trying to steal his. I was high at the time too. I am just glad I never got arrested. I don’t know if he died, that man, to this day, and I’m ashamed of that, trust me.”
I watched her face for the fearful reaction, for the hatred to take shape there, but I saw nothing but pity. Her brow furrowed.
“What went on in your home to make you run away Michel? What drives a child of thirteen to leave and to do things like that?” She asked as she placed her half eaten food aside.
I shook my head.
“My parents were not happy, they fought, always. My father cheated on my mother, and when he was home, he abused her. When he got tired of hitting her he’d come looking for me. I got over it, and eventually I left. I found a home with those gangs, and they made me feel safer and more loved than I ever had at home.”
I sat forward with my elbows on my knees.
“There was never violence at the houses where we stayed, no matter what happened on the street, that’s where it stayed. We always had food, we always had happy homes.”
I paused again, taking a few more bites while I gathered my thoughts.
“My parents found me when I was fifteen, and they wrote me off. Those two hypocrites told me how disappointed they were in me, and what I’d become. I never heard from them again or tried to look for them either.” I looked at her. “My uncle, Andy, he kept writing to me no matter what I had done, and no matter who I associated with, he never judged me. He got me to go to high school, and he sorted me out. God only knows how he kept track of me, but he did. He kind of encouraged me to join the military, and I needed it.”
Annabelle crossed the piece of floor between us and knelt in front of me.
“Nobody has the right to judge you for what you went through or what you did because of the house you grew up in Michel. You are a different person now, and that is what matters.”
She took my hands in hers and kissed them one at a time. I pulled her up onto my lap, holding her close.
“Very few people would be as un-judging as you Annabelle. The only other stuff in my past that’s bad is the shit that happened in Afghanistan, and the drug issues I had when I got home. I have been trying to stay away from anything like that for a while now, and managed well. Having you in my life helps me. You make me feel stronger.”
I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her at that moment, she had tears shining in her eyes, and I didn’t want to see pity there. I said so too.
“Anna, promise me you’re not going to play the pity-party hostess please. I hate pity, and I can’t handle the thought of seeing it in your eyes every time you look at me.”
She suddenly pulled away from me.
“Michel, pity is the last thing you’ll get from me. Yes, life sucked when you were a kid, and it threw some horrible crap your way, but you survived. You had an uncle who loved you enough to find you no matter what, and who has given you the means to make up for what you feel you did wrong years ago if you so desire. Everything you went through, both long ago, and more recently, has broken you a bit, but it’s also left you stronger in many ways. I love you no matter what, and I am glad you told me about these things. Thank you.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and we sat there, engulfed in each other’s comforting warmth.
I really didn’t want to answer my phone when it rang, but had to, it might have been her dad, or something important, so I stood to get it. Instead it was the manager, or I guess supervisor at the marina where I kept the Mary Jane.
“Mr. Deverroux? It’s David, from the marina, have you got a minute?” He asked.
“Yes?”
The man barely hesitated before getting into his clearly planned speech.
“The Mary Jane was really severely damaged in the storm and I don’t think she’s salvageable. We have taken her out of the water to prevent her from sinking completely, she has a massive hole in her hull where she impacted the dockside. I personally recommend you scrap her and buy a new boat, it will cost you more to repair her than to take that option.”
When he finally stopped I got a moment to answer.
“Thanks David, I will come by tomorrow and sort out details, and we can discuss options then.”
I put the phone down, and had a proper ‘aha’ moment there.
“Annabelle, I think I know how I’m going to occupy my time for a good few months.”
I looked at her where she sat curled in a small ball on the couch.
“What are you going to do?”
She was smiling, I think I had the facial expression of a slightly insane person on my face. I laughed and sat down next to her.
“Well, my boat was damaged badly in the storm, and it will, according to the guy down at the marina, cost more to fix it than to buy a new one. I want to build my own boat, a small yacht. Wooden hulled yacht.”
She chuckled.
“Do you know anything about boat building?”
“No, but I know you can buy kits with plans and all the timbers and bits and pieces. All I would need to do is follow a plan, and I am good with my hands. The sails one can order online, and I can do it in the backyard.”
I saw a look cross her face that I could not discern, and then a second later it was gone.
“I think that’s a good idea then Michel, it will keep you nice and busy. I need to arrange to get to the shops tomorrow to replace some clothing. I have nothing but that which I wore here, until we can salvage stuff from the house, if we can.”
I suggested we do a joint trip, I needed to stop at the marina and then I could take her shopping. So our plans for the following day were made.
When I saw the Mary Jane the next morning I understood why it would cost almost more to fix her than to buy a new boat of the same type. There was a hole in her bow that made it look as though she had crashed into the corner of a cliff. Apparently she had ended up thrown against the mooring point on the pier, and the soft fibreglass of her hull had torn like paper. It now hung in limp tatters where it was damaged, and I watched as Annabelle ran her fingers over the area just below the tear.
“Be careful of splinters Anna.”
She quickly nodded and pulled her fingers away. David stood by my side, and I knew my mind was already made up, it probably had been the moment I had thought of building a boat. It was impulsive, but it would keep my hands and my mind busy.
“David, scrap her. There are no personal effects on board, get rid of her as is,” I said.
And with that Annabelle and I walked hand in hand back to the car and drove into Galveston to go shopping for her.
We managed to get her a few sets of work clothing, and replaced her lost toiletries, shoes and other basic necessities. She severely struggled with letting me pay for things, but it was something I insisted on.
“Just let me do this for you, I can, easily.”
I dragged her off to go have lunch when we were done. I was tired of shopping, and starving to boot. We sat down in a booth in one of the older diners in town, one of those places you see in movies like ‘Grease’ where you can almost picture John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John walking through the door in those 1950’s outfits.
And true as heavens, our waitress had a pinafore dress and apron as uniform, red curly hair under a cap, and white sneakers. We ordered milkshakes, burgers and chips, and ate until we felt like we might pop. Anna took my hand afterward and we walked down to the Moody Gardens, one of the most ‘touristy’ places in Galveston.
We ambled through the aquarium staring at the fish, walked through their underwater tunnel as the sharks swam overhead, and watched a penguin show. It was wonderfully domestic and relaxing, and felt like the kind of thing normal people would do.
“I like this, spending t
ime with you, just doing ordinary things,” she said as we stood watching a manta ray circle lazily to eat.
“I like it too Annabelle, I was going to assume we would choose a house or buy one after we got married, but where are you planning on staying now? Would you consider just moving in with me? I mean, before we got married?”
I stuttered and fell over my own words, but they did come out eventually.
She turned to face me and smiled.
“I’d love to, and you’re probably getting an easy deal, I come with no baggage! I literally own nothing.”