The question seems sort of silly, and I could almost laugh. Instead I take a mouthful of wine and then say, “I’ve always tried to.”
* * *
At one point Ennis goes to the bar for another round, Samuel disappears to the toilet for the fourteenth time (“When you get to my age, you won’t find it so funny”), and Basil, Daeshim, and Léa go out onto the cold deck to have a cigarette, so I find myself cornered on the sofa next to Malachai, even though I’d prefer to be outside smoking. The bar has thinned out a bit—the piano player has knocked off for the evening.
“How long you been here?” Malachai asks me in his deep voice. He has a fidgety quality about him, like an excited puppy, and dark brown eyes, and fingers that tap along to music even when there’s nothing playing.
“Only a week. You?”
“We berthed two days ago. Be leaving again in the morning.”
“How long have you been with the Saghani?”
“Two years, Dae and me.”
“Do you … like it?”
He flashes me the white of his teeth. “Ah, you know. It’s hard and it hurts and some nights you just wanna cry ’cause you’re so sore and there’s no way off and it feels really small, fuckin’ small. But you love it anyway. It’s home. We met on a trawler a few years back, Dae and me, but it didn’t go down too good when we hooked up. This crew don’t mind a bit, they’re family.” Malachai pauses and then his smile turns amused. “I’m telling you, it’s an insane asylum.”
“How’s that?”
“Samuel didn’t settle down ’til he’d had a child in every port from here to Maine, and he recites poetry because he wants people to know he can. Basil was on some cooking show in Australia but he got kicked out ’cause he couldn’t make anything normal—just that weird micro stuff you get in fancy restaurants, you know?”
I grin. “Does he cook for you?”
“He’s banned everyone else from the galley.”
“At least you must eat well.”
“We eat at midnight ’cause he spends hours stuffing around in there and then it’s usually a plate of something that looks like sand covered in flower petals and there’s only enough of it to leave a foul taste in your mouth. He can be a right prick, too. Then there’s Anik, Christ, don’t even get me started on him. He’s our first mate—did you meet him? Yeah, well, he’s like a reincarnation of a wolf. Except if you ask him on a different day he’s an eagle, or a snake, depending on how shitty he’s feeling. Took me ages to figure out he was making fun of me. He doesn’t like anything or anyone. Like, for real. But that’s what skiff men are like, you know? They’re outsiders, every one of them.”
I file skiff men away to ask about later. “And Dae?”
“God love him, he gets so seasick. I shouldn’t laugh, it’s not funny. But it’s part of his daily routine now—wake up, have a puke, finish the day, have a puke, and go to sleep. Wake up and do it again.”
I think Malachai might be making all of this up, but I’m certainly enjoying it. I can hear it in his voice, how much he loves them. “Léa?”
“She has a foul temper and she’s the most superstitious of us all. You can hardly burp without her spouting some warning and last week we were two days late to depart ’cause she wouldn’t set foot on the boat ’til the moon was right.”
“What about Ennis?”
Malachai shrugs. “He’s just Ennis.”
“What’s just Ennis?”
“Well, I dunno. He’s our captain.”
“But not part of the asylum?”
“Nah, not really.” Malachai considers, looking awkward. “He’s got his shit like everyone.”
I can believe this, since I found the man sitting in a fjord. I wait for Malachai to go on. His fingers are drumming furiously.
“He’s a wagering man, for one.”
“Aren’t all men?”
“Nah, not like this.”
“Huh. Sports? Racing? Blackjack?”
“Anything. I’ve seen him lose himself completely. His reasoning—it just goes.” Malachai stops speaking and I can tell he feels guilty for having said as much.
I ease off Ennis. “So why do you do it?” I ask instead.
“Do what?”
“Spend your life at sea.”
He considers. “I guess it just feels like really living.” He smiles shyly. “Plus what else am I gonna do?”
“The protesting doesn’t bother you?” Lately I feel like all I see on the news is violent protest rallies at fishing ports around the world—save the fish, save the oceans!
Malachai looks away from me. “Sure it does.”
Ennis returns with the drinks and hands me another glass of wine.
“Thanks.”
“So what does your man think of you being out here?” Malachai asks, nodding to my wedding ring.
I scratch my arm absently. “He works in a similar field so he gets it.”
“Science, right?”
I nod.
“What’s the bird one called?”
“Ornithology. He’s teaching at the moment, and I’m doing the fieldwork.”
“I know which sounds more fun,” Malachai says.
“Mal, you’re the biggest pussy this side of the equator,” Basil says, sitting down. “Bet you’d love to be holed up in some safe little classroom somewhere. Although that’d require you to be able to read…”
Malachai gives him the finger, making Basil grin.
“What does he really think?” Ennis asks me.
“Who?”
“Your husband.”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I sigh. “He hates it. I’m always leaving him behind.”
* * *
Later Ennis and I sit at the window and watch the stretch of fjord that swallowed us. Behind us his crew members are getting steadily drunker and have taken over the set of Trivial Pursuit, which has incited numerous arguments. Léa doesn’t participate in the ribbing, but smugly wins most of the rounds. Samuel is reading by the fire. Any other night I’d be playing with them, and I’d be pushing and prodding to see the make of them. But tonight, the task. I need to get myself onto their boat.
The midnight sun has turned the world indigo and something about the quality of the light reminds me of the land where I was raised, that special Galway blue. I’ve seen a fair helping of the world and what strikes me most is that there are no two qualities of light the same, no matter where you go. Australia is bright and hard. Galway has a smudgeness to it, a tender haze. Here the edges of everything are crisp and cold.
“What would you say if I told you I could find you fish?”
Ennis’s eyebrows arch. He’s quiet awhile, and then, “I’d reckon you’re talking about your birds, and I’d say that’s illegal.”
“It only became illegal because of the trawling methods huge liners used to use, which would capture and kill all the surrounding marine life and birds. You don’t use those anymore, not with a smaller vessel. The birds would be safe. Otherwise I wouldn’t suggest it.”