Chapter 10 Torn
Torn
Lir had watched disapprovingly with his arms crossed as the shadow of that damn barrel and I moved past him and into the shed. After rolling it the rest of the way up the small mound, I begin the chores that follow in the morning after a resupply day.
With every drop of my provisions a giant stack of firewood is included.
Unfortunately, unprocessed. The firewood is for the old wood stove in my bedroom and this time of year I’ll need to light it every night.
The brick with all its pinholes and cracks doesn’t do much to insulate from the blustering wind.
I make a mental note to put on a second pair of socks tonight, especially since my feet haven’t quite defrosted out since last night’s fiasco.
The wood stove has definitely seen better days, but the squeaky door still closes and it still cranks out heat, so I can’t complain.
The now replenished wood pile is stored stacked in the same shed that my rain barrel is kept.
I’m glad the supply ship came when it did.
I had stupidly moved the last few logs that were left into the entryway which Lir and I flooded during that storm, leaving them completely waterlogged.
I would’ve had nothing but a few books to burn until the next supply ship showed up.
Even if I sent out a message via radio, it is still a few days trip out here from the nearest port town.
The closest ones had all been burned to ashes during the last war.
It’s too bad I can’t forage anything here.
Nothing grows on this rock that I could even smolder and it would never dry out, even if it could be chopped down.
Even the occasional piece of driftwood holds water like a solid sponge.
I look over at Lir probably grinning like an idiot, I’m glad that it seems nothing really dries out here.
After procrastinating long enough, I start the arduous job of chopping the firewood. Squaring up the log and narrating my actions, I yell, “Okay, legs apart and bring it down right—here!”
Lir watches as I raise the axe above my head.
It used to be too heavy for me, but after three years it’s not so bad.
When I first came here, I worried I would freeze to death with how difficult it was and no one to help me, but my body soon adapted.
Both to the cold and to the chopping. It’s still a difficult job and especially hard today with my sore ribs.
I’m once again covered in sweat and breathing hard.
Until I moved to Cape Despair, I hadn’t realized all the things other people did for me.
Besides the provisions getting delivered, I’ve had to become completely self sufficient and it’s harder than it sounds.
It’s also a lot easier to look pretty and neat when not doing these grueling tasks.
I wish Lir could see me not covered in sweat and salt for once.
It’s not that I even care about him seeing me as a woman—but, I just wish I could have a little more basic human dignity, you know—be clean at minimum. That’s all.
In a momentary break, I wipe my forehead, but even my sweat runs cold when I hear a deep crackling sound behind me.
I turn around fast, jumping a little from the violent noise and my eyes widen.
Lir is digging his claws into the splits of a log and—tearing it in half.
He looks at my expression, the blood draining from my face. “This is helpful, no?”
Slowly I nod. I can’t believe that looked easy to him even with his injured shoulder. Even after straining it again yesterday.
“I need to do something to pay you back for your wonderful hospitality. Earn my keep.” He laughs knowing full well that he is not my guest or ward but was in fact literally thrown upon me.
“Before you were thrust up onto my doorstep, what were you doing before coming here? When you were out in the ocean?” I can’t even fathom what a merman does all day.
He rips another log in half, pausing a moment to wrestle against a knot in it before finishing the job. “Oh, you know—merman sorts of things.”
Lifting a brow inquisitively, I begin to interrogate him, “So lazing around in pools? That’s all I’ve witnessed you doing.”
“No, no. Well—some of that.” He grins nostalgically. “But, also just exploring the seas. Seeing how far I can go, how deep and quickly I could do it.”
“So you’re one of those junkies? But, instead of a mud-pipe you prefer adrenaline.”
“Uh, a what? A piece of junk? Come on, I thought you would’ve thought more highly of me now that I’ve saved you in return.”
“No, no, not a piece of garbage. Just someone who wants—is addicted to pushing everything to the limit.”
“Yes, I guess that’s accurate.” He looks me up and down then tears open another chunk of wood, then splitting it further and further into kindling.
“That’s enough Lir! Soon there will just be wood chips!” I yell. My screaming seems to make him smile more triumphantly gratified at his growing pile.
“I’m good at tearing things apart.” He looks down at his large flexing hands each adorned with black daggers at the tips.
“I tear fishing nets off of seals and selkies, harpoons out of whales…” He pauses, thinking if he can trust me while his face slowly twists into a satisfied scowl.
“Maybe a few hulls off of warships.” He starts tearing at the wood again.
“I hate their disgusting gasoline and diesel already.” He looks over at the barrel that almost crushed me with revulsion.
“But, add the fire power and I just want to sink my teeth into it. They’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and look nothing changes! ”
He breathes a deep antagonized exhale, then calms his tone. “Each war they say it will end all wars and I still always have cannon clad vessels to keep sabotaging.”
“Sounds like good fun!” I laugh, “I wish I could tear things apart with my bare hands.” I make a claw like motion with my cold fingers.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’d tear apart the whole world if I could.
” I lower my head still making the gripping motions but slow to a halt as I realize how stupid I sound.
“Not the whole world, Andrea!” He says, as if it’s a real possibility.
“I wish I could show you all the beauty down there. The coral that swirls up into cathedral towers, the valleys and cliffs far vaster than any on land, the warm undercurrents that pull you into a deep sleep alongside every incredible creature you can only dream of.”
Only now realizing he’s trapped my palm into those destructively beautiful hands.
“I’d like that.” His smile brightens but I continue, “But, there isn’t any way I could ever see your world.
” He goes to say something, but stops himself nodding slowly.
I’m sure he’s seen his fair share of drowned bodies to know what could happen if I went into those violent swells.
Out of the tide pool, I pick up a beautifully iridescent nudibranch.
Admiring its slight bioluminescence even visible on an overcast day like today.
“Look at this, Lir! I’m happy even to see this.
I didn't notice anything in these pools before you came, but everything seems to be teeming with life now. The whole world to be much more than just a black rock.”
He grins and gestures for me to wait a moment and dives down to the bottom.
His tail splashes behind him soaking me in sea spray.
Good thing I’m about to get the fire going.
He returns with an octopus from the bottom.
“How many things are in that magical tide pool of yours?” I scream in delight from seeing the suction cup covered life form.
Though the octopus is making it’s way up Lir’s forearms in its twisting locomotion, it’s suckers reaching up towards his neck—he shrugs casually, like this wrestling match isn’t even something he needs to think about while speaking, “Counting the plankton and microscopic beings, a couple million.”
I huff not knowing if it’s sarcasm or an accurate estimation.
The octopus crawls towards a glass bottle on the rocks and tries to hide inside even though it’s clear.
Its tentacles uncurling and furling repetitively.
I’m marveling at its eight tangerine appendages when Lir lifts an eyebrow. “Dinner?”
“No! It’s too beautiful! No wonder it’s trying to hide from us, with a glutton like you on the prowl!” I pick up the bottle with its new inhabitant and throw it into a nearby pool, splashing safely away from Lir.
That evening before my shift, when we’re eating cold stale crackers I mumble at Lir, with the dry crumbs sputtering out in a cloud of dust between every word. “You were right about the octopus,” I shamefully admit. “I think it would have been really good with garlic butter.”