Ariel's Daughter

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I was told that my mother left us to go to the city. Apparently to New York. Where the city is filled to the brim with people, and the streets and subway stations are always moving, restless. That place is not anything like the city here. Here its calm and collected, a small town community and small cafes with delicious refreshments and donuts. Here the streets are narrow because of the smaller population, and the houses vivid colors that are so bold so they'd stand out in the almost constant grey weather during the Winter seasons. I couldn't believe that that'd happened. I didn't know whether I should be angry and hate her, or if I should chose to ignore her decision and live my life without her. So far, I've gone with live without her, and its gone well. My dad is always here for me, reaching out and helping me when I need it, and I help him.

Fishing tomorrow might be hard. I hear the waves crashing down on the docks harder than usual, making for a dangerous boat ride. Maybe dad will stay home tomorrow. I don't want to lose him either. I don't want to think about all the possibilities of what could happen to him if he went out tomorrow into the mysterious yet familiar waves. If he goes, I go.

We finish our cold slushies and sit for a while. I know it must be getting closer to evening, but I don't care. I like it out here. Suddenly I feel warmth around my shoulder and arms. The huge jacket is baggy and rough, but my skin takes to it like a dolphin to fish, and I snuggle into it. I know its my fathers, and I smile. I lean into his warm body, his shoulder and arms exposed to the night air, and place my head on his shoulder and close my eyes gently. We sit like this for maybe an hour, like we're statues, then we move. He helps me up and we walk back up the docks towards our little floating home by the shore side of Auke Lake, my bare feet touching cold sea water that splashed up onto the wood. We enter our home and I settle on the couch near the kitchen, hearing my father prepare dinner.

"What is it tonight?" I asked him, my voice curious.

"How does salad and sandwiches sound?" He asked replying to my own question with his. I smile. My stomach growls at the idea and we both laugh.

"Perfect to me." I answered laughing, my voice almost reaching an octave higher.

"Good. Now it'll be ready in a few minutes. Go wash up so your hands don't smell like fish." My father said. I laugh, but lift myself off the couch and make my way down the small hallway to the bathroom. Its just right across the hallway to my room, then next to that, is his bedroom. This house has a nice layout, and my father built it himself.

Sometimes when he has some of his coworkers, which I call his friends, I hear him brag about the usual. The house, how much fish he caught that day and sometimes even about me. I smile at the thought of his bragging. He sounds so full of life, and his friends don't mind him. They know he means well. I only call his coworkers his friends, because really, they act more like friends than co workers, but maybe that's the way it works in a small place in Alaska. That's why I love Juneau. It's peaceful and loud in its own way. I mean loud as in bold and bright, but sometimes, when dad and I go into the city it seems loud from the noise of the cars, and the people talking, but maybe its because I'm not used to this certain noise. I'm used to the noise of the waves, the vibration of feet running and walking down the docks after a hard days work to catch fish.

I finish washing my hands and feel my way to get oriented again. I walk at a somewhat quick pace and land myself down in a wooden, but comfortable chair at the kitchen table. My dad sits down moments later and I hear the clatter of plates on the hardwood table.

We finish quickly since we were starving. And I lean back on my chair, clutching my stomach dramatically. He laughs and I join seconds later. We crack jokes only fishermen and their families would know and then we sit in silence again. I think about the waves, I still hear them lapping and licking at the docks and shore. I know it will be a death wish to go out there tomorrow. I can't let him leave, or if he does, I go with him. I just have to.