Calm Harbour

Chapter One

         Sunday morning. It was crisp and cold. There was a slight dusting of snow from the night before, mixed with frost from the clear west coast sun. It had been an unusually mild winter. Less storms, and more sunshine. The winter previous had forced everyone to purchase generators, candles and bottled water just to get through the numerous power outages that occurred. Some of the winds had been so fierce that they were clocked at hurricane force. Enough to topple trees and wreak havoc on unsecured garbage cans and other debris. Thankfully, this winter had been somewhat of a blessing for all.





         She sat in her cozy leather arm chair drinking a cup of now luke-warm coffee. She was wrapped in an old, tattered afghan blanket that her grandmother made when she was a baby; it seemed to be her only solace, next to her coffee. Her apartment sat overlooking the harbour and marina. During the summer, the marina was full of boats. One of the biggest exports of this area was fishing, and many commercial and sport boats plagued the region. The other biggest export was tourism. Charter fishing boats that groups of people could rent for unheard of amounts of money seemed to be a huge thrill to outsiders. It attracted roughnecks and overseas folk alike. When the marina was full, it was quite a sight to see. Especially during sunset, when the pink, and orange and red hues shone through the masts and lit up the entire sky. She can’t remember living or even being in a place with so much natural beauty. Something about the heaving mountains across the bay and the massive power of the waves beating the rocky coastline gave her peace, even though most of the time she felt like she were the rocks in which the waves pounded on. She moved to Calm Harbour five years ago from Vancouver after she finished college to escape the greed and wealth and hustle and bustle of city life. From one extreme to another. Calm Harbour was a very small community where most of its citizens were more concerned about getting their next case of Lucky Lager then the rat race of the world around them. It was an up and coming tourist destination and many five star resorts were in the process of development and housing costs were on the rise. Hence her purchase of the apartment. After all, it was just her.





         She sat there, looking out the picture window at the glistening frost on the few vehicles parked in the marina parking lot. It sure was empty this time of year. Of the few vehicles there, it was mainly local fishermen who lived on their boats year round, because the cost of living. It was cheaper to pay moorage and live on your boat, then to pay moorage and live in a house or apartment. Most of them were single anyway.





         Her brain was going a million miles a minute, though it didn’t seem that way if you looked at her. She sat perfectly still, except for the motion of her arm lifting the coffee to her lips every now and then. By now, her coffee was stone cold. She hardly noticed. She was thankful that she didn’t have to work today. Sundays were always her day. Usually on her days off, she would be dressed and out of the house by now. Either wandering through the quaint little shops looking for a new treasure, or down at the lighthouse, sitting on a bench soaking in the unmatched scenery around her. Sometimes she would be writing, or drawing. Sometimes she just sat there in silence, and loneliness. Even after five years of being here, she never got tired of the scenery. But today, she wanted to stay in. Her phone was off the hook and her T.V. was off. The only sound around her was an angry teenager below her apartment yelling at his parents for not letting him go surfing-another huge pastime in this town.





         After sitting there for what seemed like an eternity, she finally got out of her chair and poured herself another cup of coffee. This time it was hot. Her cell phone rang. Damn, she forgot to turn that one off too.





         “Hello?” She answered, even though she could see on the caller ID that it was her friend Monika.


         “Hey you,” answered the quiet voice. “Where are you? Are you at home? Your phone just keeps giving me the busy signal.”


         “Yeah, I’m at home. I must have knocked it off the hook.”


         “Well, I’m glad your OK. We didn’t see you out last night, and I was kind of worried because karaoke is your favourite time to go out.”


         Monika. She was always worrying. But she was right, karaoke was her favourite night out. She wasn’t the next Maria Carey or anything, but she tried hard, and usually had the entire bar dancing by the end of the night. It was the only time she would let her inhibitions fly right out the door.





         “Yeah, I was going to, but I went to bed early. Had a killer headache.” She was almost certain that Monika would know she was lying.


         “Well, we sure missed you Hun. Everyone who was there was wretched. Even the host said that it just wasn’t the same without you.” There was always something about the way Monika talked that was so soothing. She always called her pet names like ‘Hun’ or ‘sweetie’ or ‘babe’. “Is everything OK Claire?”


         Uh oh, she did know. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m still feeling a bit of that headache from last night.”


         “Are you sure? Do you want me to come over? I’m on my way to work, but I can pop by if you want?”


         Claire didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to see her in her depressed state. “No, no. I’m fine Monika. Like I said, I must still have some of that headache left behind. I’m going to take a nap and then maybe I will feel better.”


         “OK Hun. Well if you need anything phone me, or text me. I’ll have my phone all day.”


         “OK. Maybe we’ll do tea tomorrow afternoon. I don’t think I will have as much on the go tomorrow, so I can sneak away from work after lunch.”


         “OK babe, sounds good. Feel better. Bye.”


         Claire closed her phone. Then quickly opened it to turn it off. She put it back in her jacket pocket hanging on the hook by the door. She grabbed her coffee, which was again luke-warm and instead of going to her chair, she went into her bedroom. The curtains were closed so it was somewhat dark. She put her coffee cup on her nightstand and flopped on her bed. She wasn’t tired. And she didn’t have a headache. But nestled in her bed in the dark confinement of her room she felt safe. Somewhat. She still felt plagued by things, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid this feeling of guilt, of torture for which she had no explanation. She laid there until she did get drowsy. Drowsy enough to start painting pictures in her head about random things. She forced herself to keep her eyes open and continue dancing with those paintings in her mind. Then, she submitted to her brain’s desire, and fell asleep.