This is a short story I wrote for
Cuffer Award a little while ago


THE NOTE


"Good morning Miss Gale," Father Dunphy would cautiously say to me as I walked down the steps of our tiny Chapel. He was A good man but an arrogant one who longed for the days when he was revered by everyone in our once booming fishing community. Those days were long gone now and had been replaced by a lingering question that hung undeservingly over the heads of many a priest that had given their lives to serve their parishioners.


The creeky steps that guided us to the gravel parking lot outside our church had been repaired many times by the rugged hands of fishermen who still believed that God was watching over them. A belief nurished by fear for the few brave men who still made their living on the unforgiving ocean .Any belief I may have once had was gone however. The loss of my hearing was bad but the feeling of isolation that had followed had amputated any thread of belief I had remaining. So many things in my life were now illusions and the line between fiction and reality was getting thinner and thinner.


So was this it, had I peaked? I had been validictorium of my graduating class when I had left my secure but equaling confining town to attend university, but know I spent my days walking the dirt roads of Anchor Cove. A place I once thought of as a springboard to my future but now the loose gravel beneath my feet felt more like quicksand.



Life seemed pointless to me now and the only island of contentment to me in an otherwise sea of misery was the time I would spend watching the fishing boats leave the government wharf. I would gaze out and once the boats were far enough out, I imagined the hectic pace on them. The distance however made it impossible for anyone on the shore to hear what was being said and it was at this time I felt most normal.



The Morning Mist was the boat I watched with the most interest. It was my brother Jake's boat, and while he and his wife Jen, who was six months pregnant had invited me to work on their boat, I was a proud person and I knew it was an offer spurred by sympathy.



Was this going to be my life's resume? I asked myself. Damm there has to be something else. Maybe I should end it all I thought. What was the point of going on if this was going to be it, there were lots of ways to do it, The shotgun was always at arms reach as Dad was always hunting something and while I was a very strong swimmer, I had not swam since I had gotten sick and the cold unforgiving water of the Atlantic Ocean had made victim of more than one competent swimmer.



That was it then, I had decided. I would end this suffering. I walked home and for the first time in months felt content. My future was decided and questions that moments ago were to excruciating to entertain now became unimportant. I had made peace with my thoughts and all those voices I had been hearing became irrevelent. Tonight, I would even take my medicine.



I hurried home to write my suicide note. I would you this forum to get back at the people who would talked about me behind my back. It would be my masterpiece. I , Brenda Gale would have her legacy after all.



Days turned into weeks and I had gotton into a routine that would have been impossible to follow a short time ago. Any conflict with Mom was small and Dad was delighted I was taking my medicine. I was even spending more time helping Jake with the endless duties required of a fishing captain. People seems friendlier now and even the voices carried on the evening wind outside my bedroom window were not as frequent. And while I would never admit it, the time I spent with my phyciatrist in St. John's had given me some insight into the illness they said I had.




It was early June and Jen had given birth to a healthy baby boy. They had named him Bren, after me and while I treasured the gesture, I prayed that our name would be the only thing that him and I had in common.



Bren was a fast learner so when he stood up at eight months and was walking at ten, no one was surprised. He was an extremely adventurous child and the more relaxed atmosphere associated with outport living gave Bren a perfect playground to explore.



I was feelng alot better now and the suicide note I had penned months ago, while not torn up was a distant memory to me. I had sometimes taken it out from under my mattress to read . It was a type of therapy for me and it reinforced to me how important it was for me to follow my medicine regime, so when I heard the faint voice of a small child screaming outside my bedroom window a panic swept over me. How could this be I thought. I knew the audio hallucinations were symptons of my schizophrenia but my hearing loss was real. I was sure of it. Or was I.



I threw my suicide note on the bed next to me and with the anxiety of a small child checking under his bed for a monster I looked out my window. Oh my God! Bren had fallen in the frigid ocean behind our house!



As my body felt the shock of the cold Atlantic Ocean it became painfully obvious that my past inability to distinguish between reality and fiction was not being tested and while blocking out the numbing sensation of the cold water was going to be impossible, the importance of the situation I found myself in was crystal clear. Bren needed me and I could not help but wonder when the last time someone actually needed me. I was important again, and had a job to do.



The bounty of plankton made visability under the water almost impossible. I had not heard Ben scream in the moments after I had entered the water and the numbness that physically engulfed me had now taken up residency in my mind as I franticaly waved my hands and feet trying to feel Bren's helpless body. Numbness crept into my arms and legs as my blood left them for dead and started focusing on the core of my body. This was not an option for me. Bren was an extension of me and I would not leave him.


My movements became slower and less calculated and it was as if Bren was saving me as I felt his little body brush against my back. I turned as quickly as I could and saw him. Adrenline coursed though my body as I grabbed him and kicked for the wharf.




The crustaceans that had made the posts supporting the wharf their home were cutting into me like razors as I struggled to lift Bren to safety. I prayed, something I had not done for a long time for the strengh to raise him from this hell we found ourselves in and with one strong lunge I lifted him to safety. I had done it, he was now safe. My second wind had saved him but there would not be a third and while my mind said fight, my body had begun to shut down. The violent shivering had now stopped and my thinking had become very muddled as my hyper alertness had been replaced by a
sort of depersonalization and I knew that death was near.



I would die today, but I would be remembered as a hero. Surely they would see what I had done today. There was very little current and when they found my body people would know that I had gave my life to save another.



As my lifeless body entered into a mystical unconsciousness, I felt a shiver done my spine infinitely colder than the icy grave that surrounded me as my last thought was that I had left my suicide note on my bed in plain view when I had rushed from my room to save Bren's life.