Wind (a novel)

Chapter Four - Dead End

11:45 a.m.

Here I was, in the middle of the ocean, where I had chosen to be. I looked forward to the next 72 hours of solitude and doing nothing.

It was almost lunchtime. The rain had stopped, and a few seagulls flew gracefully above my cottage as I quietly ate two bananas. Suddenly, the sound of roaring engines filled the air. Must be tourists heading to these ocean huts for the day. The serenity of the morning was disrupted. Normally, this kind of noise irritates me because I wake up early and enjoy the quietness of the mornings. But surprisingly, I found peace in the arrival of the tourists.

I saw three bangkas approaching the edge of the sandbar. Each boat carried around seven to ten passengers. Big Filipino families, I thought. Two of the boats moored on the sand, while the last one came straight toward my cottage.

At that time, the water over the sandbar was only ankle-deep, and most of the sand was visible. But the waves far out were severe, even intimidating. I noticed the tourists on the two boats hesitating to get off, likely waiting for the conditions to improve since it was a rainy and windy day. The last boat stopped directly in front of my cottage.

"Hello, ma'am," said the man who appeared to be the boat captain. "Do you have any extra drinking water? We really need some because no one remembered to bring any."

I remembered the three bottles I had stored in the cupboard and hesitated. Those were my supplies—why should I give them away?

"We're willing to trade you some cold cuts and eggs, if that's okay?" the captain offered, even before I could respond.

Now they had my attention. I could always boil some of the water in the containers for drinking later. What I really needed was more food to last me until Monday. It seemed wise to say yes.

"Okay!" I shouted, getting up to fetch the drinking water.

I gave him one bottle, and in return, he handed me a half-empty pack of spiced ham and an egg.

"I need more for that one bottle," I said, shaking my head.

"Give us another, and I'll give you five more eggs," he countered.

"What if I give you three bottles, and you give me a whole pack of ham and a dozen eggs?" I proposed.

The captain scratched his chin and glanced at his assistant, as if seeking her approval. "Deal," he said.

The trade was made, and my food supplies were now more secure. I placed the ham and eggs on the table inside the cottage and turned on the stove to boil some water for drinking. Funny, I felt thirsty as soon as I gave away the water bottles.

Half an hour passed, and suddenly, the boat engines roared again. The captain shouted, "Dolphins, dolphins!" and pointed eastward. I assumed they were heading out to the Tañon Strait—the channel separating Negros and Cebu islands—to spot dolphins. I had heard that dolphin-watching tours in town often included a stop at this sandbar. It seemed they had grown tired of waiting for the weather to improve and decided to move on.

As for me, I was here to stay for the next three days. I love dolphins and enjoy watching them, but now didn't feel like the right time.

θ θ θ

2:00 p.m.

All the boats had left, and I still hadn't eaten lunch. I was frying one of the eggs when a strong breeze blew through the front door and windows. The wind nearly extinguished the stove's flame as it intensified into gusts. I quickly shut the front door, just as heavy rain began to pour.

Outside, the wind whipped up whitecaps, cresting into large swells. The conditions were too dangerous for swimming or snorkeling. I glanced out the window and saw that the tide had suddenly risen, covering the sandbar with water up to shoulder height.

I could feel the waves hitting the floor of the cottage, which produced a frightening noise. Doubts crept in about the sturdiness of the cottage's posts. The outside had turned dark—not pitch black—but the horizon was now hidden by rain. The entire cottage was engulfed.

Then, another boat appeared out of nowhere, bobbing precariously in the rough surf. There were no tourists on board, just a captain and his assistant. Without the bangka's outriggers, I thought, the boat would surely have capsized.

I tried to suppress my fear by focusing on the food I had prepared: fried ham, eggs, and some rice. Fortunately, I still had the three ketchup sachets I had gotten from McDonald's the day before. "Sweet," I whispered.

I ate slowly, savoring each bite. The spice from the tender meat danced in my mouth, and the tanginess and richness of the freshly fried organic eggs filled my senses as the yolk broke on my tongue. The soft rice and overcooked crispy egg whites created the perfect texture, at least for me.

Bite after bite, I felt satisfied. The experience reached its peak when I washed it all down with soda. The fizzy bubbles tickled my throat, enhancing my sense of fullness and contentment. For a brief moment, I forgot why I had come here.

The cold wind on my skin contrasted with the warmth in my mouth. My thoughts drifted back to Paulo and our dead-end relationship.

After that satisfying meal, I began to feel drowsy. The rain had subsided, as if welcoming the late afternoon, and the gloomy sky invited sleep. The rain stopped entirely, and my eyes began to close, hoping it would be just for a little while...