Moonlight Waves

The Waves

  The water dances around my feet, trying to lure me into it's depths and get me to swim under it's waves. But I ignore it's call and sit stoically on the clinging sand with my long skirt sticking to my wet legs, my gaze set on the blue horizon, hoping beyond hope that today would be the day that the ship will crest the hill of waves.
  That today would be the day that it returns home.
That it would return to me.
My heart skips a beat when I see a ship far off, but I make myself sit still and wait and see before rushing off to the docks. I've made a fool of myself one too many times running through the crowd at the docks trying to make my way to the ship that had just arrived, only to find it wasn't The Moonlighter.
I watch the ship for the next fifteen minutes not tearing my gaze away and trying to identify anything that would give away it's identity. The ship turns it's nose towards the docks and I find myself looking at a fisherman's boat. Not the ship I was wanting.
People have started gossiping about me in the town, my parent's are starting to worry about me, and even my own sister has come to accept the worst, smiling sadly at my trips to the shore. I've come to this spot almost everyday and sat on the beach from late afternoon till the sun sinks below the waves. And I do this because he told me to wait for him. He told me to keep an eye on the horizon for his return—and I promised him I would. And I keep my promises.
It's been a year and a half now that he's been gone. For six months I've come down to this beach and waited for him. It's been six months since their set arrival date had passed without so much of a word. People have begun to say they were claimed by the sea, but I know they haven't been. I can feel it, I can feel it in the way the water tickles my bare feet and teases me. They're alive. The Moonlighter still sails proudly atop the sea and if I'm the only one that's going to believe that, then so be it. Let them gossip and whisper about me as I walk past, let them give me sympathetic smiles and pats on the hand. I'll wait for him, I'll wait for my sailor for as long as it takes. I'll wait for him for as long as the sea tells me he's alive. I'll be the only one patiently waiting for them, but at least I can say I kept my promise.
In the next couple hours before dusk, only one other ship comes into dock—a small merchant ship—and I let out a sigh that it's another day come and gone without any sign. I grab for the lantern behind me and light it before darkness can fully envelope me. I skip putting my shoes on over my wet feet and instead carry them in one hand with the lantern in the other hand. I take one last look at the sea before making my way to the dirt path that leads up alongside the ridge that leads to my family's estate.
I walk quickly, trying to avoid stepping on anything sharp, knowing my mother will be waiting on me. When I make it to our estate, only a few lights are light on the first floor, the rest of the house is dark. I walk through the door, drop my shoes in the corner and wipe my dirty feet on the rug before making my way to the entrance of the parlor where Mom and Father are both reading a newspaper and Amadrya is practicing the harpsichord.
   "Nereida," Mom says without even looking up from her newspaper, "are you barefoot again?"
   "Yes, Mom." Is all I say.
"Very well," She sighs, "Your bath has already been drawn upstairs. Try not to take too long, you remember who's coming for dinner, right?"
     "Yes, Mom." I tell her, "The Collins will be here at 7:00."
"Good, now hurry up and get cleaned up." Mom finishes as she shakes out her newspaper after turning the page.
   I turn on my heel and rush up the stairs to the third floor and barge into my bedroom where a steaming bathtub is waiting for me. I place the lantern I was carrying on the vanity and use it to light the rest of the candles in the room and quickly pull my dress over my head. I pin up my hair so it doesn't get wet and place my small clock right in front of me so I can keep an eye on the time and then I let myself step into the hot water and relax. I have an hour, but I better not push the time. I'll get out in thirty minutes.
   Once I scrub all the sand from under my toenails and fingernails, I emerge from the water and wrap a towel around myself before going to my closet to find a suitable dress for tonight.
  We're always having company, there's always someone for dinner. But I suppose that's the price you pay when your mom is a highly social woman and your father is a highly respected man. But that also means that we are gossiped about a lot. Not that there is much to gossip about us, besides me sitting on the beach alone, pining after a lost love.
   I settle on a light blue dress with a high neckline and not too many ruffles. I'm not in the mood for ruffles tonight. I get dressed and then unpin my hair to do something with it. Usually my maid, Julia, will help do my hair but she has the month off because she just had her first baby—a beautiful little girl.
I brush out my long hair and braid the top half section into two braids, pan them out, then twist the two braids into one bun at the back of my head and pin it in place. I quickly curl the rest of my hair resting on my shoulders and deem it acceptable. For the finishing touch, I put the teardrop necklace back around my neck, this small piece of jewelry holding so much meaning to me.
I walk over to the full length mirror to inspect my work and twirl for fun in front of it, watching my skirt billow out around me.
   My hair is simple, but elegant, and it falls down to the small of my back in loose brown/red tinted curls. The light blue dress fits me perfectly in all the right places and complements my sun-tanned skin. A small smile crosses my face at my job well done, but my eyes meet my one blue eye and my one green eye in the mirror and I can see my reflection taunting me. Daring me to think, "I look beautiful." But of course, I don't. My reflection always knows that and it tells me so.
  My forehead is too small.
  My ears set too far apart.
  My fingers too long and slender, all bone.
  I'm too short and my body too weak.
The longer I look at my eyes I realize now too that my eyes are set too close together. There's always something new every time I look into the mirror and my reflection always points it out. Laughing at my efforts to try and beautify myself.
   I turn away from the mirror before I get in a sour mood and shove my boots on before walking down to the parlor. Amadrya is finished on the harpsichord and Mom is gone now, probably in the kitchen double checking the cook's work.
   "Evening, Nereida." Father says, done with his newspaper and folding it back up with practiced hands. "You look beautiful tonight."
   "Thank you, Father." I say, trying not to shy away from the complement but also trying to not let it go to my head. If it goes to my head than I might actually start to believe it.
"How were the waves today?" Amadrya asks, sitting down next to me on the sofa. Her light brown hair resting on one shoulder in a curly side ponytail held in place with a purple ribbon that matches her dress.
   "Playful." I answer, "Only two ships this afternoon—a fisherman and a merchant's."
"There's always tomorrow." Father chimes in.
    "Yes, tomorrow." Is all I can say.
Amadrya looks around to make sure no one can see before kicking her feet up on the coffee table and slinking into the sofa.
   "Got any other news?" She asks me.
"There's a storm coming," I tell her, "It's coming in from the east."
    "Let me guess, the sea told you this?"
"Yes, my sister, you just have to know where to look and what to observe."
"All right, everyone." Mom says barging into the parlor. "Places! They'll be here in precisely—" she makes a dramatic gesture towards the grandfather clock and starts counting down the seconds. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One!"
Precisely on cue the doorbell is rung and a maid rushes past the parlor to get the door. Amadrya straightens in her seat, Father takes off his glasses, Mom takes her place behind Father's chair, and I tuck my feet under my skirt and put on a smile. The maid walks in with the Collins family trailing after her.
  Mr. and Mrs. Collins are an older couple and they are guardians of their six year old granddaughter Natalie. The maid gives a quick curtsy before taking her leave and the Collins walk farther into the parlor and my family all stand to our feet to greet them.
"Agatha, Conner, Natalie." My mom says, "Wonderful to see you."
Mrs. Collins embraces my mom and Mr. Collins gives my father a handshake. Amadrya and I move forward and we each embrace Mrs. Collins before hugging shy Natalie. Well, she's not exactly shy, she's just quiet in front of adults, but as soon as they're out of sight she becomes a wild child.
We all sit down once more and Natalie sits down between me and my sister. Father and Mr. Collins immediately start talking about the out of control raids on towns, Mom and Mrs. Collins start talking about the new bakery in town and Amadrya and I try to start conversation with Natalie. Asking her about her studies, what she's been doing lately, what she likes to do. Natalie is all too happy to talk about herself, but in hushed tones of course, so her grandparents can't hear.
By 7:30 I'm relieved to see the maid come in to tell us that dinner is ready. I was running out of things to talk to Natalie about, but Amadrya had kept the conversation going.
After we all take our seats and we say Grace, a silence falls on the table as we all start eating our beef stew. I can see Mom searching through all her prepared conversation topics in her head trying to find a suitable one for the occasion.
"Nereida," Mrs. Collins pipes ups, "have you heard anything about your dear sailor yet?"
It's the same question I get all the time, and I don't get people. If I knew anything then the entire island would know too.
"No, ma'am, not yet." I answer.
"Oh, what a shame." She says. But the way she says it almost sounds like, "Oh, what a shame, they're all out of the blueberry muffins." And for obvious reasons that rubs me the wrong way and my lips screw up into one corner of my face and my eyes narrow as I evaluate her. So many things pass through my thoughts of what to say to her, but I'm kicked lightly in the foot and I know that's the only warning I'll get from Amadrya before she'll kick me hard in the shin.
  She's done it before.
I let out a slow breathe and make my expression relax.
"Yes, it is." I say, instead of saying everything else I wanted to say to this, quite frankly, rude woman.
"But you still go down to the beach everyday?" Mr. Collins asks.
I can tell by my parents expression that they had hoped that tonight our guests wouldn't bring up this topic. And they're hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Collins don't aggravate me too much. Every time we have guests, they all take pleasure in asking about my lost sailor. And I've blown my top with quite a few of them, but my lovely parents always defend me and him, making our guests feel reprimanded. I'm trying to work on not losing my temper with the people in town, but all effort seems for not. And I may just lose my temper tonight with these people.
"Yes." I say slowly, staring Mr. Collins down. Daring him to say what I just know he'll say next.
"Don't you think," He says. And here we go ladies and gentlemen, the start of every sentence that ruins a perfectly good night. "that after so many months, it's kind of.....futile to continue going down there and soiling your dress? I mean, you can't possibly still hope that he's still alive do you?"
"Mr. Collins," I say in a measured voice. "I may be the only one who still hopes and believes that The Moonlighter still sails atop the sea, but I can assure you that it does, still indeed, sail on the waves. And it will dock in our ports again soon and I will take great pleasure in your flabbergasted and disbelieving expression when it lowers it's anchor here again."
"Well, I never—" Mrs. Collins starts but is interrupted by a frantic ringing of our door bell that turns into a pounding on the door. We all jump to our feet and I hear the patter of the maid's feet as she goes to open the door. We all file into the entryway, curious to see who's at the door and as the maid opens the door a young boy rushes in. I recognize him as Rolind's boy, the dock master's son. He doubles over and puts his hands on his knees, gasping for breathe.
"Miss Nereida," he pants, "The.....The Moonlighter....it's been spotted....it's coming into port."