The Rebellious Tide

by Eddy Boudel Tan

  “Mr. Goh!” Kostas wiped his lips with a napkin and smiled warmly. He shook Sebastien’s hand and didn’t seem to have any intention of releasing it, gripping firmly as their eyes connected. The smile didn’t leave his face. Finally, he let go and they settled into their seats.

  “Nikos said you wanted to see me.” He shifted in his chair, trying to find a position that felt natural.

  “Yes, yes.” Kostas stabbed a tomato with his fork and inserted it into his mouth. His hair was slicked back in the usual rigid waves, revealing a portion of the white scar above his ear. The skin along his jaw and neck looked angry, as though he had shaved in a hurry. The evening sun exposed three tiny red cuts near his lips. “Do you know why I want to speak with you, Mr. Goh?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I can’t think of a reason.”

  Kostas chuckled quietly as he chewed before taking a sip from his glass of wine. “I was young once, just like you. I had so much passion. It burned inside me like a bonfire. Sometimes people would get singed by it, but it’s what kept me alive. Without it, I would still be trapped in my village, selling dried fish in the market.” He let out a soft sigh. “I thought I was invincible when I first started living at sea. Tell me, Mr. Goh. Do you think you are invincible?”

  The disquieting feeling spread throughout Sebastien’s gut. He clasped his hands together and held them against his stomach. His most charming smile spread across his face. “No, sir. No one’s invincible.”

  Kostas’s shoulders bounced as he laughed. “You’re right! No one is invincible. We are men, not gods, yet our actions don’t always prove we understand this simple truth. Sometimes we do things that are irrational. Stupid.”

  The smile vanished from Kostas’s face as though it had never been there. The warmth chilled into something venomous. “I know who you are, Mr. Goh.”

  Every muscle in Sebastien’s body stiffened. His breathing stopped. The anxiety that had danced along his nerves went cold.

  “Who am I, sir?”

  Say it. I’m your son. I’m the boy you abandoned.

  “I must admit, you remind me of my younger self,” Kostas went on. “Fearless, but reckless. Daring, but damaged. More bold than smart.”

  I’m not a coward like you.

  “Tell me, Mr. Goh. What did you hope to accomplish with this little rebellion?” He leaned across the table. Their deep green eyes were locked like they were staring into a mirror.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words came out convincingly, but they didn’t match the icy expression. There was no use in putting on a mask. Kostas was staring into his own face.

  “You’re the leader of this uprising.” Kostas’s tone was more matter-of-fact than menacing. “I’ve suspected as much for some time, but now I have proof. Someone turned you in — someone you might even consider a friend.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The repeated words were mechanical this time. Warmth tickled his lungs. The heat rose steadily like a furnace, but he knew soon it would smoulder throughout his body.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say.” Kostas leaned back in his chair. “You’re fired. You will disembark in Palermo and never set foot on the Glacier again. Until then, you will not be permitted outside your cabin. Consider yourself lucky. I have plenty more punishment in store for your friends. I’ll wear them down until there’s nothing left.”

  “You will lose.” The words spat out of his mouth.

  Kostas laughed so loudly that the guests seated around them turned their heads. He sat back and looked at Sebastien as though he were an adorable, stupid child.

  “You’ve already lost,” he said with a superior smile. “And what did you accomplish? A few childish pranks? The only thing you’ve done is make life harder for the people who work on this ship.”

  “It won’t matter that I’m gone. We’ve started something here, and it will only get stronger. Now everyone knows they can fight back against your oppression.”

  “Fight back?” Kostas said with a sympathetic look. “They are powerless. They have less freedom than they had before you came along. Nearly forty people have lost their jobs because of you. What will they do now, where will they go? Was this fight worth it for them?”

  Sebastien’s chest was on fire now. The rage crawled up his throat. His skin felt like it was melting.

  “It’s better than doing nothing,” he said, his tone less steady.

  He kept his eyes fixed on his father, but he could sense the other people seated around them. Only someone like Kostas would choose to have this conversation in such a public place. This boldness could only belong to someone so arrogant he had no fear of the repercussions. He was protected from them.

  It brought Sebastien back to the gymnasium’s dim hallway ten years earlier. Only someone like Marcel Lamoureux could feel so shielded from the consequences that he would assault a woman at her son’s graduation. People like Sebastien and Ruby could never afford to be so brazen, while it was second nature to Kostas and Marcel.

  “You didn’t do nothing,” Kostas said. “I’ll give you that much. That’s why you remind me of myself. You have spirit. But you know what else I see?”

  Sebastien didn’t say a word as he dug his fingernails into his knees.

  “Anger.” Kostas nodded, agreeing with himself. “Hatred. Violence. I see it in your eyes.”

  They’re your eyes, asshole.

  I’m your son.

  Why wasn’t I good enough?

  Why wasn’t my mother good enough?

  Why did you leave her? Us?

  I hate you. I hope you die violently.

  I hope you find your wife fucking a better man.

  I hope your children grow up to despise you, to be ashamed of you.

  I know about Athena. I know where you’re taking her.

  I know what you do.

  You enslave people.

  You treat them like animals to make yourself feel powerful.

  You’re a weak, sick, pathetic man.

  I see you.

  I know who you are.

  The rage scorched him from inside. He could feel himself start to shake, feel his breath feeding the fire in his lungs. His thoughts pushed against the inside of his mouth, forcing the dam to burst. At least Kostas would know there was one man who could see him for what he was, naked and exposed.

  He held back with all his strength. Knowledge was his only power now.

  “I have a soft spot for you,” Kostas said, his tone patronizing. “You fight because it’s all you’ve ever known. You think the whole world is against you. You blame everyone else for the hatred you feel.” He shook his head. “Perhaps your parents didn’t show you enough love.”

  Sebastien’s vision blurred into brilliant white light. His hands sprang from beneath the table and he threw it to one side. Startled cries pierced the air. Glasses and dishes shattered against the floor while silverware ricocheted off surrounding tables. He couldn’t control himself as he lunged forward, grabbing the front of Kostas’s stiff white shirt. His other fist shot up in the air, angled toward his father like a lightning bolt from the hands of Zeus. He looked into the face in front of him and all he could see was pain.

  Deep red paint streaked across walls and windows.

  His mother’s hands raw from cleaning.

  Belittling words spat in his direction.

  Bruised skin the colour of wine.

  He froze, one fist clutching his father’s shirt, the other suspended in the air. Kostas didn’t move. The two guards by the railing didn’t move. They stood there, ready to pounce, but didn’t try to stop him. Kostas wanted to be hit in front of all these people. This was a trap, and he’d walked right into it.

  As soon as he dropped his hands, he felt someone take hold of his arms protectively from behind. He could tell by the scent of his skin it was Nikos.

  Kostas sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “You prove my point. Nikos, e
scort Mr. Goh back to his cabin. Be sure he doesn’t leave until he disembarks in Palermo.”

  Sebastien didn’t struggle as Nikos guided him by the arm away from the overturned table and broken glass. The lounge was so quiet he could hear his muted footsteps against the teakwood floor, but he felt molested by the stares, eyes having their way with his image, inventing stories and passing judgment.

  “One more thing,” Kostas said from behind. Sebastien turned to face him with Nikos’s hand still on his arm. “Thank you again for the gift, Mr. Goh. It’s my new favourite family portrait. But if you come near my family again, you will wish we had never met.”

  Nikos loosened his grip as they exited the lounge. There were fewer people crowding the sides of Sunset Deck than before. The sun was almost touching the horizon, painting the sky a peaceful shade of orange. The silence simmered between them.

  They stepped inside the mirrored elevator and watched the doors close. They were alone.

  “You can’t lock me in my cabin, Nikos.”

  “I can. I must.” He was in full security commander mode, staring at the reflection of his own expressionless face.

  “You have a choice, you know?” Sebastien looked into the eyes of the reflection beside him, but Nikos resisted the urge to soften his restraint. “You can let everyone make your decisions for you, or you can choose yourself. You can choose to let me go. You can choose to be honest with yourself, and everyone else, instead of hiding behind locked doors and hidden rooms.”

  The subtlest crack formed in Nikos’s carefully constructed facade. “You don’t leave me any choice. I don’t know what you would do if I let you go. First, you destroy Alexis’s cabin. Then, you abduct a woman. Now, you assault the hotel commander in front of dozens of people. I know it couldn’t have been easy hearing him speak to you like that, but you went too far. I’m worried about you.”

  “I lost control back there.” A warm current of shame passed through him. “It was a stupid thing to do. I know that. But Kostas was playing me. He wanted me to hit him.”

  “Not to mention that you stole from me. Me! What does that say about us?”

  “I needed to find out what was hidden in cabin A66. I didn’t want to ask you to take the risk of helping me, and I knew you wouldn’t have done it, anyway.”

  “I’ve deactivated the skull key, by the way, so don’t bother trying to use it.”

  “Skeleton key.”

  He shook his head with impatience.

  “You can believe Kostas when he claims Athena’s mentally ill, but I know it’s not true,” Sebastien said in a quiet voice. “There’s something far more sinister happening here. You can choose to ignore it, but remember that it’s a choice.”

  “As much as it will hurt to see you go in Palermo, I think it might be for the best.” Nikos turned away from his reflection and looked into Sebastien’s eyes. “Life at sea isn’t for everyone. It’s isolating. People lose touch with reality, with themselves. I can’t just stand down and watch you lose control. That’s why I’m going to do what Kostas instructed. I’m taking you to your cabin.”

  Sebastien leaned forward and put his hands on Nikos’s face. They inhaled the scent of each other as their lips met seconds before the elevator doors opened.

  “I guess that will be the last time we do that.” Sebastien pulled away, watching the conflict on the face in front of him.

  Nikos was overcome with emotion, but he fought it as he had trained himself to do. He knew how to harden his face, but he couldn’t hide behind the transparency of his eyes and the twitch of his lips.

  “Goodbye, Achilles,” Sebastien said. “Take me to my cell, Nikos.”

  The only sound in the cabin that night was the gentle ticking of the little round clock with the white face that sat on the desk. Sebastien lay in the bottom bunk, staring up at the metal slats that held the empty mattress above. He would have given anything to speak to Ilya, but his friend had been relocated to another cabin. He was carrying a stuffed duffel bag when they passed in the corridor. Ilya flashed him a silent look to show he wasn’t giving up just yet.

  Sebastien was to be kept in isolation for the next thirty hours until they reached Palermo. One of Nikos’s guards was stationed outside his door — the Dominic treatment. The only human contact he’d enjoyed since returning to his cabin was when the guard passed him a tray of cold lasagna and slices of bland tomato. It must be Italian night in the cafeteria, he thought as he picked at the food.

  Sleep wasn’t going to come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the blinding light, feel the inferno in his lungs, as he turned over the table and grabbed Kostas by the shirt. It was the same feeling ten years earlier when he attacked Marcel Lamoureux. The same feeling in Alexis Kourakis’s bedroom. Complete and utter surrender to the rage that burned inside him. He felt himself drift a little further each time it happened. It frightened him. He would question who he truly was — the calm or the storm.

  Maybe Kostas was right about what he could see in Sebastien’s eyes. Anger. Hatred. Violence.

  The aftermath of graduation day ten years earlier had been immediate and crushing. All he could hear were screams as he lay on the warm grass, restrained by hands and knees. His vision returned in full cinematic resolution, disorienting him with light and colour. He saw Sophie and her mother claw their way through the crowd to get to the wreckage in the centre. Panic was carved into their faces.

  Two men held Ruby back as her arms flailed in the wind. Her voice sounded like the siren of an ambulance as she cried his name. Soon, her voice was overpowered by the real sirens.

  Sebastien didn’t struggle. He submitted to whatever needed to happen to him. He was carried away, guided into a vehicle, taken to an ugly room in an ugly building, asked questions. His answers were plain and honest.

  The town had never been on his side, but they turned on him and his mother like a tsunami. What were once whispered insults became cries of condemnation. Ruby lost all of her housecleaning clients. Their neighbours chose either to vilify them or to shut them out entirely.

  This would have been bearable had they been able to move to Québec City in the fall, as planned. Sebastien learned the hard way, however, that scholarships and acceptance letters could be taken away far more easily than they were handed out. Apparently, these honours were only available to young men unsullied by criminal charges with scary names like “aggravated assault.”

  Even if he were permitted to attend class in September, it would have been difficult focusing on anything other than hearings and trials. It made no difference that he wasn’t sentenced to prison in the end. He was destined to receive court-ordered counselling rather than study fine arts in a university classroom. It was an outcome he learned to accept.

  The following year was no more kind to Marcel Lamoureux. He was brought to the hospital badly broken, but they pieced him back together, more or less, although he was left with a permanent limp. He was exposed as the adulterer and batterer that he was, and though nothing was more painful for Ruby than having to reveal the most shameful details of her life, her story was convincing and she had the bruises to prove it.

  Even so, Marcel was a man, and a respected one at that. Men like him were accustomed to getting away with crimes, unpunished. He might have succeeded in eliciting the town’s sympathy while casting the wicked Gohs as the villains had it not been for one person — Marie Lamoureux.

  One look at Ruby’s bruises and his wife was determined to make Marcel pay for what he had done. He didn’t spend a minute in custody, but within a year he lost his marriage, the support of his son and daughter, his family home, most of his wealth, and the respect of the not-so-forgetful citizens of Petit Géant. He packed his bags and moved to Vietnam.

  The unexpected dishing-out of justice might have comforted Sebastien had he not lost everything himself. He often found himself caught in a dark tempest of shame and guilt and regret. He would lie in bed, fearful of who he was becoming, or who
he had always been.

  He had no power over the rage. What if this was simply a part of him? Something inherited? He would wonder if his father suffered from the same disease.

  Now, many years after he learned the true magnitude of this defect and how destructive it could be, he lay in the bottom bunk of his cabin and drowned in the same swell of helplessness. There was power in his anger he was unable to control. It conflicted with the image of himself he worked so hard to cultivate, irrefutable evidence that his entire identity was a hoax. He wasn’t the kind, intelligent champion of the underprivileged with the effortless smile and compassionate eyes but an embittered man with hatred stored inside him.

  He wasn’t the calm. He was the storm.

  Ruby stared at him from her spot on the desk. Her eyes were forgiving behind the glass of the picture frame. “You did it for me,” he could hear her say, her voice muted as though she were speaking from behind a velvet curtain. “All of the violence was to protect me.”

  A few days ago he might have considered this enough to exonerate him of his past and present crimes — he did whatever was needed to protect his mother, and he’d do the same for those being oppressed on board the Glacier — but now he could feel the flaw in the logic. Not everything true was also right.

  He saw the look of fear in Kristo’s face, the boy’s screams stifled behind his hand. He heard the tearing of silk puncture the silence in Alexis’s closet. He tasted the blood from his bitten lip as he held Kostas’s shirt in his shaking fist. All of this was evidence he hadn’t changed at all.

  And what about Ruby? He had spent years defending his mother in his own mind. She was a victim, but that didn’t mean her hands were clean. Her affair with Sophie’s father proved that he hadn’t known his mother as well as he’d thought. It was a truth he liked to dismiss.