-Returning Waves
At low tide, the water at the beach is so low and so far off that it comes up only to your ankles if you run out far enough. As the water goes down, the fishermen pull their boats up onto the sand and chat while cleaning the fish. If they're unmarried, they tease the girls who come from the market for the fresh fish. If they aren't, they play with their children, bouncing their sons and daughters on their knees.
My parents used to play with me at low tide, too.
When it's time for high tide, the sea doesn't just rise and rush to the shore. It comes in small but fast, clear green waves that can sound like cowrie shells being tossed together in a basket, or the applause of children. My parents used to tell me that the waves were greetings from all the turtles in the sea, all racing to meet me, their little prince. I'd be standing on the wet sand and squealing in delight as the first few waves began to climb up and swirl around my ankles.
It was around that time, my mother said, that she decided to begin work on the traditional biography of the next-in-line. My mother, having had contact with the outside, had a lot of ideas her old tutors thought unconventional, but since she was young and the queen, they let her be. So she and my father, and later Lakan, began writing, drawing, and collecting things for the story of me.
From this book I gather that I have always been quite a charming child - though it often gags me and some others to say so. The book says, contrary to what Aaren and I myself believe, that I have always been handsome, humble, smiling, and polite. As I grew older, I'd snort at the words and think, that's not me. That can't be me. Especially if Aaren hates me so much.
About Aaren... My mother tells me that as soon as I set eyes on Aaren (and I think I must have been one or two), I was smitten. I adored her and was enraptured to know she was running after me, wanting to play with me, laughing and smiling at me, me, me... To tell the truth, it's only when I was with her that I truly felt charmed.
Of course, Aaren only came in the summer with her father, Tito Jim. So during the rest of the year I'd have the other children to play with, my tutors to pester, and my parents to love. That wasn't really so bad. I suppose as a prince, whatever innate sense of leadership they say I was born with took over, and my friends would always ask me what we'd do next.
I reached the age where girls became strange, alien creatures, and I and my band of merry men began to cut them out of our games and adventures. I remember a war that lasted perhaps two months, with us in trees or behind hills - with ammunition of mud-filled fish bladders and large clods of dirt. The summer of that year, I realized how difficult I'd made my life when Aaren slid down the tree trunk and greeted me with her usual eager smile. My friends weren't too far off, and I knew they were watching me. I learned the meaning of the word "torn". So despite wanting Aaren to be in our games, for the sake of our "cause", I made her life miserable. For every summer after that. Including this one, I guess.
She was stubborn, really. So we couldn't play together. Fine. She'd be in the games along with the other indignant girls. And they were all quick, skillful, and smart. Sometimes they'd win. Sometimes we would. But all the time, I would secretly be watching her, and secretly marveling at how good she really was, how much her Mirandus friends liked her, and how pretty she was becoming...
Slowly, my friends and I got over the girl-hating. Just last year, a few of them began courting. And they started asking me when I'd do the same - begin a courtship. Would I finally pick one of the Mirandus girls who walked with us on the beach at night? Or would I finally talk to Aaren? Because they had known about my lifelong infatuation with Aaren Hawkins all along. Their teasing was unbearable, really.
And seeing her was unbearable. I felt so stupid for making her hate me. I could have been more mature, and told my friends that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to play with the girls. I could have given an apology, instead of my nightly gifts of slimy toads or smelly slugs. I could have told her outright how I felt about her, instead of having Lakan "accidentally" give her the book and have her find out like that... For all those years, my parents and my cousin had also documented my encounters with Aaren, and how to this day, I know nothing about how to get her to forgive me.
In the end, I helplessly fell back on making her hate me even more. I was rude to her, made fun of her, and scorned the littlest things about her. At least I had her attention to myself. But my laughter, and that of my friends, was only half-hearted. Apparently, only she wasn't aware of the truth.
In some manic attempt to once again have her attention, I drew her away from the Celerity once, in that turbulent longboat ride into the red sky. My heart pounded when I realized that she'd fallen. When I realized that she could be lost, and I'd be the reason. As quickly as I could, I turned the boat around and caught her in it. I did the strangest thing and laughed. I whooped and laughed, and Lakan says it was because I didn't want her to see how much I needed to cry. Weird. But I guess that would fit.
If I wish for a longboat ride in the night with Aaren, I imagine going at a leisurely pace, sharing some whispered conversation about the sea back home, or what life is like on Montressor (I still haven't been there). I hear a soft, laughing whisper, instead of her usual angry torrents of frustration. I feel the slight and gentle touch of her fingertips, instead of a slap in the face or a kick in the gut. I see her violet eyes, honey-colored hair, and gentle smile against the full majesty of the etherium, instead of sparkling tears and a trembling lip.
Before this summer began, before I joined the relief operations (more for Aaren than for the Alliance, really), and before we were captured, my father told me to put something in the book. I made some rough sketches of her, and then glued a dried estreya to the lower right corner. On the paper along the stem, in the tiniest hand I could manage, I wrote, "I only know that I love Aaren."
This business of books and journals has gotten us into a lot of trouble. Really. When I found out that my book was lost, and people on the crew would know my secrets, I became frantic and then dazed. When I found out that Aaren had it, and that she may have read the biggest secret of all, I lost myself and all fronts I'd been putting up. When the Scabrous captured Tito Jim's ship in retreat, they found HIS journal and found out about me. When they captured us, they found my book and found out about Aaren.