The Crooked Thing by Mary MacDonald

Author:Mary MacDonald
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short stories, fiction
ISBN: 9781773860572
Publisher: Caitlin Press
Published: 2021-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

I woke up early. It was 4 a.m. and the sky was twilight, layered in orange. I was happy for the wool sweater, built a fire, settled down at the hearth, leaned into the light and read my book.

We ate breakfast and Johanna and Ben left for work. After they were gone, I took a walk, read, napped. Simple things I would have scoffed at back at home. Our days went like that. Settling into a rhythm. Long with the light.

In the mornings, Ben and Johanna collected their samples from the sediment, looking for oil residues that they will later measure in the lab at the university. In the afternoons we would walk, kayak, and swim.

People visited practically every evening. We’d make a fire after dinner, talk, play games, make plans.

On the afternoon of my last day, the three of us walked to the boathouse, took out the kayaks and hauled them into the water for a final outing.

Johanna was strong with a terrific cadence and was well in the lead. Maybe it was a Norwegian thing. For a while, Ben and I hung back, paddled beside each other. I was taking one last look at the remote shoreline at the fishermen’s cabins with their drying racks. Skerries and little bays. The puffins grunting like pigs. There was a mother duck with ducklings swimming in a line behind our boats. Ben and I made eye contact.

“I find myself counting them all the time,” he said. “Afraid by the end of summer some of them won’t have made it.”

“They’re not out of harm’s way?”

“Well, they aren’t. Half of them won’t make it.”

I pointed to one duckling that lagged behind all the others. The mother circled back and bobbed in place until the little one swam onto her back. Then they took off in their procession again.

“Don’t say anything, Mom. I know what you’re thinking.”

“What?”

“That the mother will keep them safe.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all. I was thinking that little duckling can’t swim on its mother’s back forever.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Oh, love is the crooked thing.”

“Yeats,” I said.

“Yup.”

It was getting late. I didn’t need to look at my watch. I could tell by the way the wind had picked up that it was mid-afternoon. Waves started rising and coming in fast. We hurried to catch up to Johanna. Water showered over the bow. Swells were growing fierce. My eyes watered. I paddled harder.

When we came around the bend there was her kayak lying on its side bobbing like a cork in the waves.

“Johanna!” hollered Ben.

I rammed my knees into the rim of the cockpit. Pulled into the wind with all my might.

“Johanna!” No response.

We paddled up on either side of the lilting kayak. Johanna was flopped on her side crumpled like a fallen branch. Her lips were blue. Her hands curled tight onto the paddle half submerged. Water poured into the tipped boat.

I steadied the kayak while Ben rolled it upright. “Hey!” he yelled.

Knowing and not knowing what to do, I reached for her hands and rubbed vigorously while Ben pulled her upright.

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