The Captive

-1- Now

The day dawns unceremoniously, and a solid sheet of gray cloud stretches as far as the eye can see. The filtered light is surprisingly relentless and Linda soon wakes. Her arm tingles uncomfortably and gradually restores circulation as she rubs it vigorously, the odd red and white imprints on her flesh beginning to fade away.

She looks up at the window and realizes that someone has opened the curtains. The rip in the fly- screen has been poorly mended with brown masking tape, and there is a fresh set of fingerprints on the glass, each groove and fine- line accentuated by a layer of dust. Her eyes reluctantly wander to the horizon, where she sees nothing of promise. A dull and indecisive dawn, properly befitting a senseless and lacklustre world.

Her initial disorientation is gone. She has grown accustomed to the four clotted cream walls, and the musty indoor smell with its unmistakable trace of mothballs.

She sits up and then dizzily sinks back into her pillow. Land-sickness. The strange and uneasy feeling in her stomach indicates that she is yet to adapt to the absence of motion.

A set of encroaching footsteps rouses her from her thoughts. Thud, thud, thud. That slow, painstaking deliberation! Her rage suddenly rises again chokingly. Any moment now, the pressure will become irresistible and the floodgates will be flung wide open.
“Hey, sugar.”
“Stop calling me that!” she bursts. “You know how much I hate it. And don’t come in here while I’m sleeping!”
“Sorry.”
“Are we going to have another day of this?” she demands, exasperated. She is on her feet now, tying her hair back in one tense, fluid movement. “I’m sick of seeing that look— that! That exactly!” she cries, grabbing him roughly by the chin. “That vacant non- comprehension— it’s all I’ve been seeing for the last week!”
“Just calm down for a minute,” he begins, attempting to somehow stem the flow of words.
She snorts contemptuously and releases him.
“This has been hard on both of us. But at least I’m trying! It’s not like your negativity is helping the situation.” He flinches, saying those last words before he can stop himself.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” She rolls her eyes to heaven.
He rubs his own wearily. “You’re tired. We both are. Do you want me to make you a coffee or anything?”
“No, I don’t want a bloody coffee!” she yells, incredulous. “That’s exactly what the problem is! You don’t listen to a single thing I say— not a single thing! You think caffeine is going to make me resent you any less than I do now?”
“Linda…”
She storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The sound reverberates for a moment, bouncing between all four clotted cream walls. For a moment Jonathan is unable to move. The last thing he wants to do is give up hope, but he can feel himself faltering. His first thought is that the situation is spinning further and further out of his control. His next thought, far more unnerving, is that the situation was never under his control to begin with.
Linda, meanwhile, steels herself, determined to finally tell him everything.
Outside, moments later, the ambivalent morning is beginning to assume some promise of direction.


-2- Then


She opens her eyes, and there they are. Ninety- eight bearded, violent, rude and abrasive men. Her mind spins under an endless foray of questions— Who…? Where…? Crisp air. Salt. She opens her mouth and nothing comes out. What’s my name? She wonders desperately, frozen, paralyzed with fear in the corner. Rough, untreated wooden walls. My God…this can’t be real! I must be dreaming…

“One woman’s bad enough bloody luck on the ship. Two must be even worse,” someone grumbles. “Dump her overboard, I say.”
“Help for Emm’line, maybe?” someone suggests, leaning forward.
“Stay back!” she shrieks. With the piercing sound comes sudden and unexpected clarity. “Linda,” she says, almost triumphantly.
“What?” someone mutters. “She’s gone mad!”
“My name is Linda. You all stay away from me!”
More laughter. “Come now…”

Motionless. Terrified. Fear clouds her mind and leaves her feeling helpless, overwhelmed. The fog grows denser, thicker until the sea of faces blurs beyond all comprehension. Heavier, heavier…

***

They never wash. They spit whenever they feel like it. They scratch themselves in unholy places. They hoot, jeer, and fight in an obscenely primal fashion. To be the prisoner of these vile creatures!
Linda won’t bear it. The seasickness, the men, the way of life? Unthinkable.
After she recovers from the initial shock, her thoughts flicker instantly to escape. She looks to Emmaline; presumably the cook. An obvious ally.

“I can’t stay here a moment longer” she hisses, once in the kitchen under the pretence of carrying a tray full of mugs.
“I wouldn’t be thinkin’ like that, if I was you. Makes it a whole lot harder,” Emmaline replies matter- of- factly, in a strange brogue of presumably Irish origin.
“Maybe on our own— but together we could think of something! Surely this ship must dock somewhere, for supplies, or…”
“HA! The Soulless Traveler, dockin’ into port towns with the merchant ships to buy goods? Now I know you’ve lost your senses.” Emmaline spits on a mug and rubs it fiercely. “This ship’s a parasite, understand? She steals both what she wants and what she needs. The minute she docks, we all rot in prison, and it’s death for the capt’n.”
“But…”
“Listen t’ me! Thar’s one way off o’ this ship, and it’s not a very nice one. Cold, salty, and painful.”
“So your saying it’s hopeless…”
Emmaline sighs heavily. “It’s a long time since I’ve been like anyth’n of a mother t’ anyone, and I’m not about t’ start now. So quit your snivelin’ and do somethin’ useful.”
***

Linda taps her foot impatiently. “No, I didn’t cook it. No, I don’t know what’s in it. And yes, it’s the only thing available.”
Toothless growls. “I’m sick of eating this rubbish. Where’s Emm’line? The filthy hag! I’ll kill ‘er! EMMALINE!”
“Ah, quitchyer belly achin’, Gavin. Yer eatin’ the same gunk as the rest of us.”
Toothless is incensed by this rebuke. “I’m fed up with it, I tell you!” He seizes Linda’s tray and hurls it against the wall.

Plates shatter. There is a grotesque silence. “You idiot!” someone screams suddenly. “We’re bloody starving over here!” Uproar erupts at the unfed end of the table. Toothless punches the nearest face to his own, who responds in turn. Before long the dining hall descends into utter chaos.

Linda is fairly unimpressed by this predictable display. She stoops to pick up a surviving mug, and a well- fed pirate grabs her roughly. Instinctively, she spins around and smashes the glass against his face as hard as she can.
He sways unsteadily. Blood begins to pour in torrents. “You!” he snarls, wiping his eyes clear.

Linda’s attacker is suddenly thrown away from
her with surprising force.

“Go into the kitchen,” orders the rescuer, breathing heavily into her stunned face. “You and Emmaline can clean this mess up later.”
Linda obeys without question.
“Ah, Anthony, ruinin’ people’s fun as usual!” she hears someone chuckle, as she slams the door shut behind her with trembling fingers.

-3- After

White walls. White lights. A piercing and forcibly mind- numbing amalgam.

“She’s had an anomalous reaction to the anesthetics we administered, Mr. Morrelli,” the doctor says wearily. “The tests are still coming through. It’s too early to diagnose…”

“How did my uncle used to say it?” Jon interrupts. “I see your mouth moving, Doctor, and I even hear words coming out. But unfortunately they’re not answering my question. Perhaps I should ask it again. Why is it that my fiancée came to this hospital sane, and is leaving completely and utterly out of her mind?”

“That’s just it, Mr. Morrelli. Linda is still perfectly sane in every respect.”
“You have a strange definition of sane.”
Dr. Chiffon’s clenches her hands tightly together. “I’m sorry I can’t give you anything more definite at this stage.”
“When can I talk to her?”
“She’s— in a highly sensitive state at the moment. For the time being…”

The color drains from Jon’s face. “Has the world gone completely mad?” he asks weakly, heart pounding. “She just… she just had a crook appendix … Jesus! It was just…it was…”
“You should go home and get some rest. The hospital will call you in the morning.”
He shoves past the doctor without a word.

A pale, wan figure kneels at the window. Searching… vainly searching, but clearly to no avail.
“Linda…?”
She turns to him with wounded eyes. “Leave me alone.”
“But…”
“The ship… everything… everyone… all gone!” she moans. A tear rolls down her nose and plops clumsily onto the blanket.
Jon, stricken, rushes to comfort her.
Two male nurses burst into the room. “Mr. Morrelli…” says one cautiously.
Linda turns to face them. “Get him out of here,” she says steadily, before turning her attention back to the window.
She can hear a struggle, and muffled cries of protest. Someone kicks the door closed.
The skyline is obstructed with a network of gray buildings. She can’t even see the ocean. “Anthony…”

-4- Now

Breakfast is intensely uncomfortable. They avoid each other’s eyes, both tired of scenes
“I’m sorry,” says Linda moodily. “Not for what I’ve been saying… but how I’ve been saying it. I’m ready to tell you everything now.” She feels a sudden onset of déjà vu and for a moment she can almost see Anthony distinctly. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But we won’t agree on a single thing until you accept that I mean what I say! Just because you tell me something isn’t so doesn’t change things, even if you say it over and over again. I don’t have the energy to keep fighting with you.” She continues before he can speak. “And we’re really, truly over.”
“How can you say that?” he asks hoarsely. “If only I could make you see how stupid this is.” He takes her hand pleadingly.
“Are you going to let me finish, or not?”
Something like hope wells up within him.
“What I should have told you before, but didn’t have the guts to, Jon, is that…there’s someone else.”
“What, one of the nurses at the hospital?”
“Someone on the ship, and you know it.”
There is a pause. “Someone on the ship,” Jonathon repeats finally. “You’re leaving me for your imaginary boyfriend?”
Linda glares at him, pushing against the table and dragging her chair deafeningly against the floor. “I knew this was a waste of time.”
“Well, what am I supposed to say?” he moans helplessly. “My fiancée thinks she’s in love with a pirate!”
“Thinks!” Linda spits, outraged. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I don’t know my own goddamned mind?”
“That’s exactly what I think. Considering a week ago we were planning our honeymoon.”
“I was nowhere near here a week ago. We were planning our honeymoon eight years ago. And in that eight years I moved on, and you became a jerk.”
“Gee, funny how you haven’t aged a bit in that time!” Jonathon cuts in derisively. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd, dear? And you have a fresh scar on your stomach. From where your appendix came out, five days ago.” He grabs the front of her t- shirt.
“Let go of me!”
“See?” He points at the jagged stretch of fleshy pink tissue. “And if everything you say is true, then you must be thirty- three. Do you look or feel thirty- three years old?”
“I remember every single birthday!” she retorts hotly, recalling Anthony’s tenderly given gifts and awkward professions of love.
The shrill sound of the phone ringing catches them both off guard. Jon exhales angrily and snatches it up.

-5- Then

“MERCHANT SHIP! Look alive, lads! Merchant ship off ‘o th’ horizon!” With the throaty, successive shouts of triumph, the ship springs to life.
The wooden door to the cabin is swung roughly open, and Emmaline virtually dances inside.
“What the…” Linda mutters groggily, pushing cold fingers against aching eyes.
Emmaline grabs her by the wrists and wrenches her unsympathetically from beneath the covers. “Out of bed, you! Didn’t you hear? It’s a merchant ship!”
Linda yawns and stretches. “So?”
“So? So that means no more watery cabbage soup and stale bread, lass! Those merchants know how to eat!”
Linda is suddenly wide awake. “We’re going to… rob the ship?” Her mouth is dry.
“That’s the general idea!”
“But… we’re not going to hurt anyone, are we?”
This time, Emmaline laughs outright. “I think it’s fairly safe to say we will.”
Linda wonders why none of this sank in before. Didn’t she know she was on a ship full of pirates? What did she think pirates did?
“Ah, not to worry. The lads are used to this sort of thing. After a while you’ll see it as nothin’ more than routine— a blessin’, even. Too long without pillagin’ and they get jittery. I suppose you’re all right though, so long as you have your noble Mr. Anthony to put ‘em back in line!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Emmaline grins and ambles into the kitchen.
Perfectly on cue, there he is, standing in the doorway. Tall, bearded and ungainly, with a pair of puzzlingly gentle brown eyes. Hair hangs awkwardly past his shoulders in disheveled, irregular waves.
“There’s a merchant ship,” he says, after an awkward pause.
“I heard.”
“Did Emmaline show you where to hide?”
“Under the floorboards in the kitchen, I imagine.” Linda’s lips twitch involuntarily.
“What is it?”
“I just find it interesting that you’ve come to my aid again. You’re making it a bit of a habit.”
“I just don’t believe in mistreating women, that’s all,” he says stiffly. “Make of it whatever you will.”
Linda reddens.
“I’d stay out of sight for a couple of hours, if I were you,” he calls over his shoulder, as he makes his way up on deck.

-6- After

“Have some more potatoes.”
“No, thank you.”
Jonathon pours himself a glass of water. The clock in the kitchen ticks noisily. Linda’s fork scrapes noisily against the china.
“More salad?”
“No. Can’t stand the stuff.”
Tick. Scrape.
“I was hoping we could go to the movies tonight. We haven’t been in a while.”
“Ha! That’s for sure.”
Tick. Scrape.
Jonathon decides to avoid the issue he clumsily touched upon. “How about I grab us a video, then?”
Linda drops her fork angrily with a clutter. “How about I go stay in a motel?” He was the single most irritating human being on the planet. “This was a mistake from the beginning. You’re…”
“Ok, ok… I’m sorry. Don’t go,” he begs.
“Do you have any idea what its like to wake up in some weird place you haven’t seen for eight years? And then have some ex- boyfriend decide he wants to move in on you again?”
About two kilos of live dynamite explodes somewhere between Jonathan’s chest and stomach. “If you’re trying to scare the crap out of me, it’s worked. Can you cut it out now?”
“I’m not trying to scare you. Quite frankly, I don’t care a thing about you. Not any more. I just want answers.”
He wants to kill her for causing him so much pain. The steak knife on the table glints at him invitingly. “Answers…?”
“Like, for one, what happened to the ship?”
That adorable pucker. He’s desperately in love all over again.
“Jesus, Jon! How did you all even find me? Did it dock? Why would…” She gasps suddenly and covers her mouth, realizing what must have taken place. “Did it sink?”
“You know what? It’s getting late…”
“It sank! God…that’s it, isn’t it!”
“It didn’t sink, you eejit!” Jon explodes. “It doesn’t exist! It isn’t real! Christ!”
“Don’t call me names, you delusional halfwit! While we’re on the subject of things that don’t exist, how about we talk about you and me?”
“We’re getting married in a fortnight!” Jonathon hollers. “The doctor was wrong. You’ve totally lost the plot.”
Linda puts her face in her hands.
“There’s a satin wedding dress sitting in your cupboard! Go on— go and have a look!”
She eyes him dubiously as he leads her into the room that is supposedly theirs.
“Look at it!” Jon orders, flinging the wardrobe open. “You and your mother went shopping for it together. Pearl beads which caused a fortune. You’ve tried it on a million times!”
A strapless bustier, lavishly embroidered, and a fountain of shimmering skirt. “I’d never wear anything like this,” says Linda coldly. “It’s so… showy and overdone.”
The absurdity of it all. Jonathon suddenly bursts into peals of laughter.
“What the hell are you laughing at?”
“This,” he splutters. “This whole argument is ridiculous. You’ll wake up tomorrow and realize how insane this is.”
“No, me justifying myself to you is insane!” she cried back. “If you knew how much— God— I hate you! How can you laugh at me now, when I feel like this?”
“I’m not trying to make you feel worse,” he says weakly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up! I know what this is, and it’s not going to work! You think you can all hide it from me? Eight years of my life? So then I can just go and marry you in that hideous dress and live happily ever after? I’d rather die, do you hear me? I’d rather die!”
Jonathon sinks onto the bed.
“Where’s the ship? What happened to it? Answer me!”
“I’ve told you, it doesn’t exist,” he says, stunned.
“What good do you think it’ll do?” she demands. “Eventually I’ll remember what happened. It’s only a matter of time!”
“You’re tired. Let’s just go to sleep, ok?”
“You’re mad if you think I’m sleeping in the same bed as you are.” The disdain in her eyes is evident. Jonathon swallows painfully, and shows her to the spare bedroom. Only when faced with the prospect of sleeping in their bed alone does the cruel reality of the situation truly begin to sink in.


-7- Now


“It’s your mother,” he says quietly, handing her the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”
Linda shoots him a deprecating look. “Hello?”
“Oh, darling!” comes the voice which she hasn’t heard in years.
“Mum?”
“Darling, Jon told me everything. Would you like me to come and stay early? The wedding is next week!”
Linda’s heart freezes. “Mum, not you too!”
There is a pause. “Now, I don’t know what sort of nonsense you’re thinking, my girl, but you listen to Jonathon, understand? The man loves you; he’d do anything for you. After the wedding you can sort this ridiculous…”
Linda slams the phone down. “How did you manage to involve my own mother in all of this!” she gasps. “Everyone is lying to me.”
“We’re not lying to you. You’re lying to yourself.” Jonathon feels himself crying, and the realization makes him feel weak and ashamed.
Linda, moved to pity, puts a shaking hand on his. Misinterpreting her intentions, he tries to draw her face closer to his own.
“Stop it!”
He slumps back into his chair.
“I don’t know if you’ve been living in this dream world for the last eight years, but if you have, I feel sorry for you.”
He feels drained and strangely numb. After nearly four days of constant argument, he is beginning to doubt whether there is anything left to say. Fleetingly he believes her. He has been living in a dream world. Eight long, lonely years have passed, and his grief has led him to slowly but surely lose his mind...
“I felt more free and alive as a prisoner on that ship than I’ve ever felt with you. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth!”
“It’s not the truth. It’s not real.”
To his surprise, Linda laughs. “See, there you go again. Telling me what is and isn’t real. I saw it, felt it and lived it. Are you trying to tell me that my emotions don’t exist?”
He doesn’t know how to respond. “Of course they do, but…”
“If I feel love… is that real?”
No, it isn’t. The words reach his lips and suddenly lose their nerve.
“You’re giving me that look again. But the fact is, I remember everything about him.” She smiles dreamily and Jonathon melts. “I remember how he looked at me. I remember how he smells. I remember how…”
“Yeah, I get it!” snaps Jonathon moodily. God, sugar. Spare me the gory details.
“I’m in love with another man, even though I don’t know where he is. Don’t you understand yet? My feelings are real, Jon. As real as anything else to me. As real as us sitting here right now.”
Her words strike another ominous chord. The transition from their bubbly, soon- to- be- wedded bliss, to their bitter estrangement, separating them between two seemingly different worlds, seems even more ridiculous to him than the thought of his fiancée aboard some fantastical ship making love to a drunken pirate.
“You’ve spent the last eight years of your life as a captive on a pirate ship,” he says at last, a lesson learnt. “And you fell in love with some guy. It doesn’t matter what I say, does it, sugar? That’ll always be real for you.”
The doctor had warned Jonathon of this. “It’s always the case, when you have extreme and unexplainable reactions. You must ready yourself for the possibility that Linda will never recover. I’m not willing to adopt extreme modes of treatment for running the risk of harming her brain in other respects. She’s mentally stable, I’ve already told you.”
Stable…stability…the word echoes in his mind. What sort of solace and hope can be found in a word which is so… irrevocable? He glances at his supposed bride-to-be and swallows painfully. “Do you think you could learn to love me again, then? Supposing that this…other man never returns?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “I could never, ever love you like that again, Jon,” she says resolutely. “Although maybe we could be friends again, one day.”
“In that case… take what things you need and get out of my house.”

-8- Then

A small, dimly lit room. For hours they lie together, the only two people alive. Nothing else exists. Nothing else is relevant.
Linda watches the rhythmic rise and fall of his stomach in fascination. “Could this possibly be real?” she whispers, awed.
Anthony laughs drowsily. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
“I just feel so happy…”
He kisses her quiet, and then looks at her thoughtfully. “Who’s to say what’s real, and what isn’t? I guess its whatever you believe it t’be. After all…what else matters?”
Refreshing simplicity. Further words lose their necessity. The constant rocking of the boat gently lulls them back to sleep.