A midweek
story. You lucky things.Not much commentary needed from me on this one because I feel like at this point Oleg has proven himself an extremely capable writer and outstanding storyteller so the best move is for me to simply exit stage left as the curtain comes up and the show begins in earnest.
We begin on the coast of the Baltic Sea…
Enjoy
TJB.
The water was lukewarm, like the tea you forgot on the windowsill for half an hour after brewing. Tiny droplets splashed on their arms, carrying the smell of the green film that covered the water's surface closer to the shore. The Baltic was supposed to be cool, but here they were, farther North than they’d ever been, suffering from the inescapable heat.
“Take the kid for an adventure, he’s wasting his best years sitting in front of that thing,” old man Saulius grumbled a few weeks ago when the three of them – the three generations of the Silinis family – sat down to finally have the shashlik they’d been waiting to cook for hours. Linas took ages to get the embers hot enough for the meat to sizzle. He blamed the firewood, the wind, the flimsy mangal, and even the store-bought meat. Tending to the fire was tough, and unlike other manly crafts like fixing leaky pipes, it couldn’t be practiced in the confines of his apartment. He felt rusty and inadequate, especially in front of the boy. Saulius had the wisdom not to comment on his son’s abilities, or rather disabilities as he saw it.
“Dad, are there any jellyfish around here?” Daniel asked, his voice filled with excitement, as he let the water slide through his fingers, the oar safely fixed by his side.
“I really doubt it. It’s too warm, for one thing. And the salinity…” Linas shut his mouth before going any deeper. He didn’t want to be that boring dad discussing pH levels and mineral concentration with his son.
“Did you know that when a jellyfish stings you, all you have to do is pee on it?”
“On the jellyfish?”
“No, on the wound! If a jellyfish stings you, can I pee on you?”
I hope he doesn’t talk like this around Karina, Linas thought. She’s already analysing the kid with all the bullshit techniques her fake degree taught her. And to think I paid for that nonsense…
They had been island-hopping for a full week now, and none of the three wanted to go back yet. The archipelago felt like a special place. Ferries coming to you at the press of a button, abandoned fortresses, grottos and every sort of caravan, RV and camper known to man.
“Feels like being a pikey, without the songs, dances and stealing,” old man Saulius remarked at their lifestyle after making coffee in a portable aeropress with water boiled over an open fire in a little tin.
Linas wanted to reprimand his dad for slurring in front of the boy. But that felt like something Karina would do, so he kept it to himself. Instead, he doubled down.
“Without the best parts, that is,” he said, winking at Daniel, who probably didn’t get the joke but smiled and squealed nevertheless.
Would the boy remember the trip fondly in a few years, when his voice would mutate and his mind would be set on other things than video games? Linas hoped he would, failing to recall any trip he and Saulius took, when he was little. They did go on an occasional fishing trip but that always seemed more like a chore, with all the cumbersome stuff that they had to haul from the trunk to the lake.
“Daddy, could we paddle home if we wanted to?” Daniel asked, not actually doing any paddling, coasting just like a kid on a tandem bike.
“Probably not,” Linas added, and after some hesitation added: “Do you want to go home already?”
“No, I don’t want to go back ever and ever! Not until we visit all the islands.”
“Even the skerries?”
“The scarier the better!”
Linas smiled. It felt good knowing that the boy seemed to enjoy himself, despite the sweltering heat, the mosquitos and sleepless nights under a sun that never quite set.
“Look dad, a beaver! No, a raccoon dog!” Daniel shrieked with excitement, pointing at some obscure shape floating on top of the water. “Let’s follow him to his warren!”
Rabies, tetanus, lice, and fleas. Or an encounter with an environmentalist. Linas wanted none of that to ruin their vacation.
He squinted. It did look like a body, just not that of a beaver. He was afraid it would be him. That old man Saulius had finally done what he always alluded to – in the last lines of a phone call, in between sighs and lewd jokes. Floating like a sad teabag in the murky waters surrounding the tiny islet they were all staying on. With no current to take him anywhere, how long would he stay here?
“It stinks!” shouted Daniel, with even more enthusiasm, for rare things excited this kid more than weird smells – old socks, petrol spilled on the tarmac of a service station, and farts.
“Let’s paddle to that skerry, huh? We can tick it off our list,” Linas pleaded, turning around the kayak, and pointing its nose towards the huge rocky islet covered in white blemishes.
“But I want to greet the beaver,” Daniel protested, his new desire overtaking everything else and becoming the axis of his world for this brief summer moment. Yesterday, it was bugs, the day before - snails and slugs.
“Maybe the beaver is just taking a nap.”
“Greet the beaver, greet the beaver today!” there was a melody to the words. It was probably a children’s song or a jingle.
“You know, son, real-life beavers can be quite dangerous…”
There was that dad again. The boring dad. The one who always shows up at PTA meetings, the one who has a thing for old German typewriters, the one who cooks the blandest omelets.
“Oh what the heck, let’s greet the beaver…”
He turned the kayak again, making loud splashes with his oar, hoping for whatever that thing was to get frightened and disappear. But the thing was unmoved by the sound of the approaching kayak. It was just there – dark and wet. Like driftwood. Or a corpse.
What if it was him?
“Daniel, close your eyes,” he asked, taking a quick look at the boy, who was happy to oblige. They covered the last few knots (was it still knots if you were going by a cheap kayak?) in silence. It was interrupted by a familiar voice coming from the shore.
“Are you two lugs out of your mind? I’m tired of waiting! So is the fish in the fish stew!”
“Grandpa, have you seen the beaver?” Daniel asked, pointing at the thing.
“It’s an oyster farm, my boy!” old man Saulius shouted, getting into the water.
Linas could see it now. A black barrel filled with clams.
“Oh my it’s warm! The oysters are probably dead by now. Maybe we should crack the barrel open, throw a few in the stew, what do you say?”
The boy laughed, having already forgotten the beaver that wasn’t there.
“Can we really?”
“Stop giving him ideas dad!” Linas retorted, playing along.
“Oh I’m sure Dani won’t tell a soul! Will you Dani?”
Boy, I was glad it wasn’t the old man!