Boat (from the Munich Tales)

BOAT
By Michael Kroetch

Originally it had been his boat. Originally it had been something that went through the water on missions from one place to another. Now it belonged to her and now it went nowhere. Now it stayed absolutely still in the middle of the room where most people would have put their television set. She had candles set up along the rims of the outside and at night would light them all and sit within them, listening. He was out there somewhere. He was going to come back to her. She knew it the same way she always knew, to the day, months ahead, when snow would first fall. He was not dead. Just lost. He was lost like a cat in a tree—except that he was somewhere out there in that wide water trying to find her. Her family had helped her bring the boat up the stairs and taken apart the doorway of her apartment to get it in. Her brother had done most of this work. Lucky for her abut his skills at carpentry. Unlucky for her about his sarcasms and sense of dark fun about her lover´s return. Her brother had tried to apologise afterward, but it was too late. Some things cannot be undone. And besides she hadn´t really been that angry at him. Really she just wanted to be alone with the boat. To run her hands along ist soft surface and hold it close against her chest. She missed him so much. In the wooden frame she could feel his breathing, sense his passion for life and even hear faintly that song he once sang to her after they´d made love and were cuddling, while outside the wind knocked the tree against the wall like Armaggedon was about to unfold. His voice had been so soft, so sweet. She felt in the words of the song like she was finally free from all fear—like that song was a home she could live in and be safe. When he finished she had wanted him to keep singing, but didn´t know how to tell him so. Instead she had looked into his eyes and seen the tears there. Such a man could get lost. That was possible. Certainly. But a man like that die? She knew better. She knew it was just a matter now of being ready in his boat for when he came back into view, waving to her, sending her his song of love and renewal and return. In the light of the candles she felt the words of his song rise up from within her. His words became hers just as his boat had become hers. She was standing in its hull with her arms outstretched to him, offering him the safety of her heart to rest on as she had rested on his.