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Chapter 22~ What you love; What you lose
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It was high time that I leave the home of a ship—any ship, since I’d lived in so many. Each one was just a reminder of how far away I was from the earth. Solid, stable earth. Where life was sure to be less chaotic than this. No part of my confrontation with my father resulted in any good. My father was disowned from my compassion and no longer reached out to me. Edmund was emotionally distant, feeling betrayed by how quickly I’d returned to the comfort of my father. And I understood it. My father and Edmund Hemingway would never see eye to eye. And I’d abandoned Edmund back there, leaving him behind like he meant nothing to me.414Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ73Ex1JQvvr
Now, I’d experienced a great deal of difficult days, but nothing else came this close. All I knew was that I needed to make things right. And quickly.
No one but the main crew of The Fancy knew where we were being taken. And no one but I had the liberty of asking. For the time being, we were crowded in tight but clean, quarters below deck. It was obvious that the crew’s mannerisms had changed since three years ago. The day was filled with hours of murder, rape, and torture. Luckily, neither Edmund nor I were harmed. A first.
But, that kind of pain and suffering was welcoming compared to the coldness coming from the Cabin Boy. There he was, sitting next to me with his head flat against the wall and deep in thought, he couldn’t have been more of a stranger to me. So, I would hold his hand, desperate for forgiveness and pity. He’d let it remain, just like a corpse whose lifelessness was the only thing keeping it there.
“Edmund,” I whimpered.
His only response was a tired sigh as he stared forward.
“Edmund, I know what I did was wrong. And cruel. I don’t know what came over me. I swore him off. In my mind, I had cast him from my life and my feelings forever. But, I haven’t seen my father in three years—”
“We know. You’ve been singing the damn story for months,” Edmund grumbled under his breath.
I paused but refused to let his anger affect me.
“Yes. Something just changed in me. I wanted to believe those things I said so badly. But, they were never true. And I should’ve known it from the beginning. But you…you are the last person I’d want to hurt. Do you remember when you told me that, Edmund? Do you?”
Nothing.
“You were right. I guess some things I just forced myself to learn the hard way. And now,” I took a shaky, wet breath, “I don’t know how to come back from this. From any of it. And merely apologizing won’t be enough.”
Part of me hoped for some reaction, something to let me know that I wasn’t completely despised. But, he remained as stone-faced as when I began.
I took his hand in both of mine and kissed the back of it, letting my lips linger and brush over the skin. It felt like a lifetime of silence between us. Finally, his fingers slowly curled over mine and held on ever so gently.
“I love you, Edmund.”
He took another sigh. I watched the air deflate from his chest. He turned his face away from me.
“I know. And now, you have to save us.”
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Reaching my father’s quarters was not an easy task. The crew was suspicious of me as it was. Every man there seemed insulted at my very presence. But I knew why. I was my father’s weakness—perhaps his only weakness anymore. What I wanted was obvious, so I eventually got past the vicious men. This was one of the rare times that I had not an ounce of fear in my body. He was at my will, after all. And my father, no matter how many terrifying disguises he wore, was weak.
In my left hand, I squeezed tight the little wooden lion Edmund had carved for me for my birthday. It was at least some comfort to me. Some encouragement.
I banged upon the silver-plated door and called, “We need to talk!”
When it opened, there he stood, disheveled of all things. And he smelled ungodly. He swaggered a bit in his walk and squinted eyes at me.
“Are you drunk?” I rigidly muttered.
He gulped and wiped off a long bead of sweat collecting on his forehead. “Just had a jew drinks—few drinks!” he chortled, following with a coughing fit.
I huffed in aggravation and pulled him inside the captain’s quarters. “Sober up. We have things to discuss.”
He swaggered to his grand chair and fell into the cushion. I refused to take in much of my father’s splendor. A man who comes from nothing doesn’t need everything and more. I only took note of his study. A large, mahogany desk sat in the back. Atop it was piled-up maps, mountains of gold, and a lot of rum. The lighting was dim. And just about everything worth anything was gold-plated. The chairs. The goblets. Even the mess of swords around us. My father took no notice of my wandering eyes. Instead, he snatched a half-empty bottle and filled up two goblets with a familiar caramel liquid. He slid one goblet over to me and drowned in his own. I stared.
“Are you offering me rum?”
He stopped his gulping and eyed me down from the rim of the goblet.
“You’re grown, eh? What? Twenty?…Nineteen?”
“I’m eighteen years old.”
An embarrassed frown crossed his sagging lips. He pulled back the goblet, but I stopped him.
“But, what does it matter anymore, right?” I pried the cup from his fingers and took a long swig. It burned like a calm fire. I let every bit of its sweetness infect me. But, sitting around drinking would have to wait another day.
“Where are you sailing this ship?” I demanded.
My father leaned back in comfort and shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m an honest. I don’t know. I reckon South America. Or Africa…perhaps.”
“Well, I don’t care what plans you have for anyone here, but you’re to expect a detour.”
Father watched me with a seriousness that I hadn’t seen on him since Mother died. He set the goblet down and folded his hands on the desk surface. How his knuckles glittered with gold!
“How far away is India from here?” I huffed.
“Why, two…three days time.”
“You’re sailing to Bombay at once. I seem to recall a certain summer home you’ve purchased. You will release me and Edmund Hemingway there and leave this house and land in my possession. You will send money to its address every month. You will pay for the house and land in full. I don’t care if it costs every cent you possess. You will support me. You owe me your life, father.”
“Constantine, I-”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. This is what you’ve always wanted—to give me a better life. You’ll do just that. And when we are free, I will become a stranger to you. No one else in this world is to know that you had a daughter and that her name was Constantine Every. For, that name will mean nothing to you henceforth. You shall never see my face again. Nor I yours.”
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After I finished my escapade of a monologue, my father sat in silence. His eyes had fallen to the floor, and the corners of his mouth twitched in restrained desperation. My chest heaved angry breaths that passed through like spears in my lungs. Had I at last silenced the King of Pirates? Had his unwavering authority passed on to a new host? There before me was not a man of bloodlust, nor of triumph. He was the farthest thing from a threat. He had shed his shell and became prey. When he finally did dare to raise his voice again, it was hushed in tone.
“Is this what you most desire, my child?”
For an instant, just a single second, my strength faltered, and this scene was no more than a daughter and her precious father. I could not dismiss his revolting sorrow as a thing he’d long deserved. My heart ached for him. But, just as quickly as it came, the hesitation passed away without another trace.
“It is,” I answered, “I can no longer remain your kin. I only wrought death and destruction everywhere I go. There is no safe place for a pirate’s daughter. And it’s time for me to learn what life can be like without myself and my loved ones being hunted down.”
He nodded, understanding where my decision arose from. He didn’t fight. He didn’t try to negotiate.
“Then, I relieve you of your burden. I shall report this to the quartermaster, and we will be on course for Bombay.”
I curtly nodded and turned to leave when a quick hand latched onto my arm. Holding on as if dangling from a cliff was my father. His hat and goblet had tumbled to the floor. But, his attention could not be torn away. There were those eyes—that humble, sincere gaze that I’d come to cherish. It made the corners of my eyes crinkle with tears.
The words slipped out of him. “What I have done leaves no room for forgiveness. That has become clear to me. But know, in your heart, that no one in this world shall ever love you as much as I.”
I took a deep breath, letting the air build up painfully and then releasing it slowly. I let him go.
“I once thought the same of you, Father,” I whispered. “But, oh, how things change.”
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