Chapter 19 Relief
Relief
In the early light of dawn, when the sky is a smokey haze of color before the sun has even began to crest over the ambit of the sea, I relieve myself from my watch at the top of the bulb.
Tight wrappings of oar-kelp encircle around Lir in the tide pool.
Halfway asleep those tendrils hold him upright in an organic hammock, they are the arms of the sea clinging to comfort him as he rocks softly.
Our makeshift medical dropper looks comically small between Lir’s claws as he administers another dose of the concoction of honey and tears to the small beak that pokes out from under his shoulder wrapping.
I whisper to him and he nods in relief. She’s still feverish, but becoming more restless.
Even in her seemingly delirious haze, she is at least squirming and moving now in his hands.
His shoulder bandages rustle like a badger caught in a paper bag as Little Bird attempts to ruffle her feathers in the morning sea breeze.
The ocean instinctively calls to her just as it calls to Lir.
I see them both looking out at it together, fully entranced by the tide which glows as the earliest rays beam out towards us.
Where I am scared of its crashing unpredictability, they see it as freedom.
I just close doors, hatches and windows.
I lock away any adventurous and free part of myself.
“I think she’s going to be okay,” I whisper as I stroke her little head.
I put the whole back of my hand to the entirety of her body as I try to gauge her now much lower temperature.
I want Little Bird to be free again soon.
Lir’s hand brushes mine and I linger beneath it, because I am not sure how many more times I will be graced with their warmth.
“I think so too.” His voice carries low between us. He leans in close to me, his voice still melodic in timbre. A small encore of his song hangs between his words. “Go up and sleep, Andrea. I’ve got her. You’ve fought enough for now, I’ll continue to watch over her.”
The slick mossy rocks slip around beneath my feet as I attempt to get up.
All my limbs too tired to balance properly on the uneven surface.
I can’t help but reach out for Lir’s shoulder to steady myself.
Again, only allowing myself to pause for a second longer than necessary before I clumsily scuttle back up the front steps.
My mind buzzes in exhaustion, but I just stand there looking at my bed, watching the light from the window cascading across its folds and creases.
The shape holds no comfort for me. My boots guide me back to the washroom to fill the kettle, its whistle ringing in my ear.
Spiraling deep into that conch that leads to my deepest subconscious.
Keeping me awake just a moment longer while I lean against the door frame, not knowing if I am closer to half-asleep or half-awake.
Echoing up the stairs, my involuntary yawns accompany me, holding my hand as my escort on my wall leaning trudge back down the hall to my front door.
Against the channel-wrack covered rocks, Lir leans with Little Bird. Her black bead eyes now sparkling again in the morning haze. Lazily, he lifts his tired head, sighing as he speaks to me, “Did you forget something?”
Wordlessly, I thrust one of those two mugs of caffeinated tea into his hands. He shifts it quickly back and forth between his palms as the too hot ceramic cools.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” I exhale. “Even if it’s just a baby bird—even if it’s a merman. That’s what I’m fighting for, Lir. That’s what I’m still doing out on this rock.”
In reply, he pulls himself next to me on the edge of the crags.
I am a liar though, because as we watch the sun rise up in flickering magenta streaks across the sky, I can’t help but drift to sleep leaning on Lir’s other shoulder.
Both Little Bird and I are pitched against him in support.
Under the too bright clouds, who’s roads all lead back towards the fading constellation Lyra in the east, whose stars spangle even in the transforming sky, we all exhale in relief as the day begins once again.