It is a marvelous and frightening thing when your mind ceases to be your own. I felt a change in the wind when my mind left me, and something within myself whispered that my life would be following the same direction.
And I know, what changed my life once will happen again.
I haven't stopped thinking of him. It's been a year since, but the memory of his face the first time that I saw him still oscures my vision when I forget not to daydream. The persistency with which his memory lingers in my head shocks me still but I cling to it. It is a safehaven for me. An escape from the hell that my life has become as I live without him.
I'm haunted by continual dreams of him. Every scene where our lives had crossed - unimaginable situation of events to the merest touch of hands - keeps replaying itself in my head. Day and night they plague me. They are a curse and yet there is a kernel of my heart that revels in the guilty pleasure that they bring me. Sometimes, I think I am going mad.
There was only one way to stop them.
I went to the Fort, to the courtyard where the Commodore had asked me to marry him, and where my own father had sentenced by husband to die. I take the hat off my head so that I can feel the sea air brushing through my hair once again. When the sentry faced the other direction I climbed up onto the wall from which I had taken that fatal fall into the sea below.
That was where he had rescued me.
I remember it as vividly as if it had just happened. The blackness of the water around me, forcing itself into lungs that were already tightly contrained. Pressure hammered at my eardrums as my heavy clothes dragged me to the ocean floor. I barely hit the sand bar, but the brocaded dress ensured that I would not be going back to the surface.
Then out of nowhere, he touched me. I could feel the life pulsing through his hands as he gripped my waist; even through my corset I could sense the humanity he embibed. The water made my thoughts hazy, but even through the grim tide I felt him raise me up. I could feel him saving me.
Quickly I turned my eyes to the dock where he had laid me after dragging me from the water. He had cut off my dress to save me from drowning, and when at last he had ripped away that hellish corset that bound my lungs, my first thought after coughing up the water was the sensation of his hands against my chest, with only a thin layer of linen between us. Even now as I recalled it all to memory, the place below my throat tingles as I feel once again the touch of his hand as he reached forward to take the pirate gold that had hung about my neck.
I replay that delicious scene over and over again in my mind's eye, and I feel guilty when my entire body trembles to feel that touch again.
If only I could.
But that is madness. Slowly, I turn away from the panoramic view that is the bay at Port Royal, and hope that with this action I will also turn away from these dreams that haunt me and turn me into an adulteress in my mind. Thanking the guard for letting me into the courtyard, I replace my hat, taking care that my hair is fixed to perfection underneath it once more. The guard looks at me strangely, but says nothing. I know that he is scutinizing me, wondering why I wished to come here to stand upon a wall, but I don't enlighten him. He won't say anything to anyone; my family is too well respected to be troubled with needless gossip.
I walk out of the Fort, and turn to make my way back home. It is getting late after all, and there is dinner to be cooked. My husband will be back soon from the Blacksmithy, and he will be hungry. I will make his favorite chair ready for him, with his papers and a glass of Port close to his hand. He will sit there all evening. We will talk some, but I am often tired by the end of the day, and retire to bed long before he does. I love my husband, but my life has become an uninteresting event that repeats itself day after day, like the dreams. Sometimes Will sighs and mentions how much brighter life would be if there was a child, but we both know that this will never be. I haven't yet gotten past the curse that refuses to ever let me become a woman. There will never be children for me and Will. So I persist with my life, thinking that it will never change. The dreams are what keeps me going. Without them, I would surely expire.
One day, these dreams will not be enough for me. What happens then, I do not know. For now, I will treasure the moment, and only wonder what my life will become when I crave something more.
I wonder where he is; what he is doing. Perhaps he is with his ship, sailing some unknown sea; perhaps he is on another adventure. Perhaps he is thinking of me. Does he miss the girl, I wonder, who's reckless abandon won him The Pearl from the hands of its captor? When he wraps his sea-worn hands around the wheel of his ship and stares out into the distance of a setting sun, does he see me staring back at him and remember?
Oh Jack, I whisper silently into the air; you saved me once. Now I need you to do it again.
Only you can save me now.
That night, as I lay in bed, Will's arm draped over my belly, I dream again. A wind blows in through the open window and tickles my face with loose strands of my own hair. I am cold in my thin shift, but the coldness makes me think of Jack again. I stopped being cold when he came, and when he left, I fear that my heart froze over.
How can I have thought that I would be happy without him, I think bitterly. I was so blind; blind to truth by the overwhelming emotions of adolescent love. I slip softly out of bed, careful not to wake Will as he sleeps but not fearing that he will for he always sleeps so deeply. I feel like a ghost as I float over the floor to the window where the moon is shining in, casting squares of light over the carpet. My hands are cold as I grip the sill, struggling for balance against a wave of nausea. Outside, the bay is a sheet of dark glass, and the light of the moon casts a rippling beam over the still water. It is calling to me.
I can hear the sea whispering my name.
My breath catches in my throat. Is he calling me too? I don't wait to find out. Quickly I go to the desk and get a quill and Will's silver inkwell. I scribble a note - I hardly know what it says - and pour salt on the ink to dry it. Then I go to the wardrobe and get a dress. It isn't a nice one; it is a muslin day gown, ordinary, but I put it on anyways. I lace my corset myself so it's not too tight. My shoes and stockings are simple to put on. There is a much finer gown folded away in the clothes press, but I take it out and stuff it into my bag. I will need it for trading. Now that I am ready, I tighten the drawstrings on my bag. My cloak is hanging on the back of the door. I put it on.
My mind is not my own, but it hasn't been for the longest time. I don't care anymore. I need to be released; I need to be freed from my cage. Port Royal is my cage. My home with Will is a cage as well.
At the door to my house I turn and look back down the dark hallway. Upstairs my husband is still sleeping, unaware of what I am going through. He will waken soon and wonder where I have gone. Then he will find my note.
But I will already be gone.
I step out into the street and close the door after myself. The houses are all dark and silent, standing in a row like stones marking graves. They stare down at me, their windows black and empty, but I pass under them without regarding them. Nothing can make me sad now; I am free. At least for the present.
I will not be gone long. The houses know that I will be back, and they do not seem to judge me as I walk by them, bound for the docks. I smile and inhale the fresh air of my liberation. I think that now, if ever, I have become completely insane.