When the Waves Came

There is a program on the telly about the tsunami. My daughter wants me to watch it. "Face your fear," she says.

I reply to her as she expects; a soft weak voice of a submissive lady, and sit beside the chair her father would occupy if he had not died ten years ago.

Lar Thornstrum was so big and strong. A good man, the best I have ever known. And I smile.

I watched the images, but I saw the day so differently. For the day of the tsunami was the day all I had been died, and all I am was born.

My daughter thinks I am distressed. She thinks I mourn all those who died; she thinks I mourn my family. She does not know, no one knows. Only Father Murphy, and he died years gone.

I see the images, they are strange and slightly familiar.

I know the area very well. It no longer exists, but it was as real to me as this room. Maybe realer. For that town was true. It was not pretty, not for me. Never for me. It was a terrible place where I had been sold into slavery at the age of twelve.

Ahhh...see the wave coming up that very road; yes. That road...I had been there...

I been standing outside of Guna's Bar, looking for a John when I saw Mika running. I assumed the police pursued him. And I did not want to see the police.

I had been turning tricks all night, the police would take my money. It had been a busy night, a ship was in port. I needed to turn two more tricks to go back to the place where I slept. That would allow me to pay my due and still have enough left over to buy a good meal and a few bits of clothing.

I saw Mika running and not a second, I turned and hurried up the fire escape, my cheap heels dropping off my feet, going quickly, up, into
Damar's room.

Darmar is a drug addict. His room should have enough illegal items to stop even the most earnest police pursuit.

I ran through his room, opened the door to the hall, and up and up to the roof.

I heard the funny sounds, but didn't stop, reaching the roof, and jumping across to the other building, and then somehow, from an eye corner, noting it was the police, it was the sea.

I scampered up the billboard, holding tight, seeing the wave covering the road, the buildings, then moving out, taking so much with it. And it would come back I think, so climb and climb to the top of the billboard, so when it comes I will be as high as I can get.

I did not think it would reach the roof, but it did, and the thin metal that held the sign for Coca-cola was loosened, and the board fell, with me upon it, and like a raft it began to ride us out to sea.

The water scoured me, but I gripped so hard the metal grill, my false fingernails breaking, my wig torn from my head, my makeup scrubbed from my face.

I was afraid in one side of my mind, but in the other I had nothing to lose.

The bill board was large flat wood upon which various ads pasted. One over another,so you did not know that once this bill board advertised beer, or once it held images of a movie.

I held on the grill of the board as we went out to sea, and that is when I saw the big white man, and as he tried to climb aboard I helped him, and together we went riding.

I thought of my appearance, death is here and I am thinking I look like a young woman of no particular import. Maybe a student or domestic.

The big man was afraid, but I was not.
And then all was calm.
The town far away.

The sea was full of debris and bodies and he was crying and searching calling names of those who mattered to him. I saw many things in the water, clothing. I pulled up a shirt, put it on, a pair of pants, too big but better than my tawdry dress.

He did not notice as I scooped up a scarf and put that over my head. He did not notice for he had lost much of his life in the waves.

Eventually he calmed and came beside me asking if I were alright.

I nodded as if I couldn't speak English well, and decided I could not speak English well. When he asked my name I gave him one. A very common one. That was not, nor ever had been mine.

Then I lay down on the board and closed my eyes.

He came to me, concerned, thinking I was dying, but I was only tired, wanting to sleep,and I slept in his arms, not an unusual thing for me to sleep in a strange man's arms.

We were rescued and I pretended to be far weaker than I was. He had given the name I gave him to those who found us, and I cried and behaved as were my family all dead and I mourned them.

As a whore, acting is one of my talents.

Over time Lars became attached to me, and when he went away sent money for my
existence. I stayed with the church, lying and crying and acting in shock, so no one expected more from me than I would eat and sleep and sweep and wash.

Lars returned on the year's anniversary and married me and took me with him to Europe.

I became pregnant and had my daughter, and we lived very well. We never spoke of the past because 'it was too painful', and I impersonated a modest quiet lady that one would not speak coarsely before.

Then Lars died and I got everything, I and my daughter, and we lived nicely.

I watch the waves destroy the town then get up to my room and am grateful.