Castaway

I slipped into my pyjamas, feeling them restrict me, bind me into their material. A feeling of exhaustion weighed over me. Silently, ignoring the painful throbbing of my head, I climbed into the bed. The sheets engulfed me in a sea of white, the cloth cool against my skin, preventing it from breathing. It was yet another torturous night. I lay in bed, wide awake, longing for the sea, vast and exhilarating, but above all, so desperately alive.1

“Hey there,” came my husband’s tender voice as he climbed into the bed next to me. I murmured my reply, and turned to look at him. Once again, he could see the sadness brimming in my eyes, begging him. He stared back, his face stained with hurt.2

“I know you’re unhappy,” he whispered.3

“Then let me go,” I replied quietly. For one ecstatic moment, I thought he was finally going to say yes. But instead,4

“I love you.” Then he kissed me. But my only love was the sea. And he knew that.5

***6

“Mama, I don’t want tuna in my sandwich today!” demanded my son as I prepared his lunch for school. I nodded absently, spreading the butter violently onto the bread.7

“Morning, love,” my husband said as he came into the room, kissing me on the top of my head. 8

“Morning,” I muttered.9

“I’m running late,” he remarked, searching through the cupboard. “Are we out of coffee?”10

“It’s in the back.”11

“Where’s my English book, mama?” my son came up to me, tugging at my blouse. 12

“I don’t know; where did you put it after you did your homework?”13

“On my desk, but it’s not there anymore!”14

“I’ll look for it,” I told him as I handed him his lunch.15

“I can’t find the coffee!” said my husband exasperatedly.16

My mornings were chaotic, with my husband always in a hurry to go to work and our child laughing and shouting and expecting his breakfast. Before I moved here, I had experienced nothing quite like it – life in the ocean was smoother, more synchronized, pulsing with life yet quiet and serene. There were never riots or bustle. This world was new to me, and I felt out of place, unprepared and unwelcome. But no one seemed to sense my struggle; not even my husband, who knew what I was going through, tried to reach out and offer some help. I was alone.17

When my husband and son had both left the house, I wore my bathing suit and went down to the beach. The sun had paused just above the sea, admiring it as it glistened in the early morning light. Gentle waves kissed the shore, forming a sheet of soft white froth. Already exhilarated, I slowly stepped into the water, savouring the feeling of the waves as they embraced my skin. Slowly, I drifted forward, letting the water reach my knees, my thighs, my hips. I felt like I was in the wrong body, but I didn’t care. I dived in.18

The cold water swirled around me, pulsing against my skin and welcoming me back into its depths. I ventured deeper, hungry for more, the sea tugging at my hair as I swam downwards. In the sea, I felt free. Invigorated. Alive. 19

For a few moments, I was truly happy, drifting in the presence of my one and only friend. But something was not right. My lungs, weak and frail, gasped for air, urging me back to the surface. I didn’t want to leave the depths, not yet. But my throat blazed angrily, forcing me to burst out of the water, choking and spluttering. Once again, I was miserable. I was desperate to venture into the depths of the sea, explore for hours at a time without needing a breath of oxygen; like I used to. And when I got bored, I would come up, shed my sealskin and sunbathe on the beach. I would meet humans who thought I was like them, and amuse myself by keeping my secret. Then, I would return home, careless and free. 20

But it all went terribly wrong the day I met David. He was charming, sweet and intelligent, and we sat for hours on the beach, just talking. I went back to his house, thinking I could spend the night with him and return to the sea the next day. But David had discovered my secret. I woke up in the morning to find my hidden sealskin gone, and David falling to his knees, begging me to stay. And for 10 years, I’ve been with him, trapped permanently on land, always unhappy. I pleaded him to set me free, to let me return to my home, and I promised that I would come back to him every seven years. But he never did; he cannot live without me.21

And so, I ran out of options. Every afternoon, I made my way to the beach and I would paddle in the shallows of the ocean. Those were the hours when I was at least moderately happy, lost in my own thoughts, daydreaming of how I would find my sealskin again and return to the sea. The cold water lapped against my skin, soothing me and helping me get through the day. The ocean was my only friend. 22

But the nights, the nights were the worst. The world above the water would sleep; my husband next to me, the child, the other houses on the street, the whole town. And I would stay wide awake, frightened because I had never known such silence before. I had come from a place which was always alive, unsleeping and unstoppable. But on land, at night everything would be plunged in muted darkness, and I would stand in the middle of it, screaming at the top of my lungs. But no one would hear me. No one ever did.23

***24

“Mama, will you come and play with us?” pleaded my son, his friend standing behind him timidly. I shook my head, and they left. 25

I was sitting on the veranda, gazing ahead. The ocean stretched out in front of me, immense and powerful, beckoning me to join it in the adventures it held. And oh, how I longed to return to the ocean. For 10 years I had been trapped in this human form, so limited and restrictive. I ached to be a seal again, to flex my tail and propel myself through the water, to feel the sea run through my fur. It was killing me.26

“Mama, you need to come and see this! We’ve found some beautiful things in the attic!” urged my son.27

“Not now,” I said, lost in my thoughts.28

***29

“Lataya, I’m sorry. I thought you would be over it by now,” said my husband when we were alone.30

“How could you think that? The ocean is my home,” I replied, desperation building up in my voice. His face shattered with pain, and for a moment I was guilty.31

“This is your home now,” he whispered, “You have a family.”32

“I didn’t want this, David,” I told him bitterly.33

“I love you,” he said, “Isn’t that enough?” 34

But it wasn’t. It never would be.35

***36

It was another evening spent on the veranda. My husband was caught up at work, and my son was playing with a friend. I had some time to myself, and I sat outside, taking in the warm seaside air and daydreaming. 37

“Do you want to play with us this time?” my son asked hopefully, but I refused. 38

I often felt guilty that I wasn’t a good mother for my child. I was frequently lost in my own world, ignoring my son’s pleas for games and such. But I couldn’t help it; I was miserable. I did my best to take care of my family, preparing meals and cleaning the house. Every night, I would tuck my son into bed and tell him that I loved him; because I truly did. He was my very own. He adored me, but unlike my husband, he didn’t hold me captive because of it. 39

“Mama, look, look what I found!” I heard my son’s excited voice behind me. I didn’t have the heart to send him away. Summoning up my energy, I turned around to look at my child.40

He stood there, grinning happily, desperate to impress me, to make me smile. My heart skipped a beat. A large fur coat was thrown over his shoulders, and the tiny boy was straining under the weight. I could feel the blood pumping in my veins, as if it were about to burst out. It was my sealskin. My sealskin.41

“Jared,” I whispered, the taste of his name lingering on my tongue, “Jared. Give that to me.”42

His face fell. “Why?”43

“I want to see it. Give it here,” I choked out. 44

“It’s mine,” he said doubtfully. I heard a car door slam. Suddenly, I was terrified that my husband would come home.45

“Jared, please,” I begged, my voice breaking, “Give it to me!”46

Tears streamed down my face. The child look frightened.47

“Mama, are you okay?”48

“Yes, I’m fine.” I stifled a sob. “Please give me the fur.”49

Reluctantly, Jared stepped forward and put the sealskin in my trembling arms. I sobbed, tears coming faster now, like rain. I threw my arms around the child and kissed it on the forehead. 50

“Thank you!” I spluttered, and I sped down towards the beach. My husband was coming into the driveway. He jumped out of his car and called desperately after me. 51

I didn’t stop until I was up to my knees in water. I fell out of my clothes and threw the sealskin over myself, feeling its familiar warmth against my body. I couldn’t wait to become part of it, to return back inside it.52

“Lataya, Lataya, come back! Please come back!” my husband ran into the water after me. But he was too late. I was already transforming, my body growing smaller, joining with the fur. I was a seal again. I let out a loud cry of rejoice, and the sea celebrated with me, embracing me into its arms. I was home.53