Reminiscing - By Rensis Schmitt

The sound of waves meeting the side of the boat always seemed to clam his nerves. Over the past ten years, he had been giving plenty of reasons to be apathetic. His parents both died in a train accident when he was nineteen, since then he'd lived alone on the small boat he had inherited. It had the essentials, food, a bed, and clothing. Anything he needed could be bought at any town. He didn't like company, and never really liked people. Nobody lived on the vessel but himself, and he preferred to keep it that way.
Staring over the railing he watched the vast blue ocean that seemed to have no end. Gulls flew high above his head, letting out loud calls to each other. The effortlessly made their way down to the water and began to feed. Vikter had never been fond of the birds, they just made messes and were bothersome when he ate on the deck. He never hurt them, as if he could catch them if he desired to. He flicked the cigarette in his hand, letting the ashes fall to the blue beneath. He never once took a puff off it, not since he was diagnosed. It was more of a comfort, knowing he had something under his control. The cigarette only burned when he let it and at any time he could kill it's progress.
Putting his hand above his eyes he peered up at the sky. He squinted his one good eye and looked around. It would be nice weather today, no rain. Any day without rain was a good day, at least in comparison. He didn't have good days, not what others would consider to be so. He would wake up, have his breakfast that which contains toast and maybe milk if it hadn't gone bad. Then he would get up and see what the day looked like, then being now.
American waters always frustrated him, as he didn't speak English. His communication was limited to German and Russian, Germany being his home country. Life seemed empty, nothing brought a smile to the man's face anymore. His scared face, lacking an eye, was nothing people would warm up to. His personality left much to be desired. He was a shrewd angry man with little interest in the affairs of others. When possible he avoided others at all cost.
Walking over to a wooden chair nailed to the deck, he sat down and began writing in a book he removed from his pocket;
"Today is like any other. I see nothing on either side of me. The gulls are out and they best leave me alone. I might have to go into town today I don't have any more fresh water. I hate American towns they're always so dirty. I hope it will not be like last time when my pocket watch was stolen. The scum must have taken it from my boat when I was getting milk. I'll need to get milk too. I had best see to that."
Sliding his pen back into the small book, he pocketed it once more.
***
The only town had been twenty-two miles away. It was a small town, which meant few people. Making his way to the store, he looked around at all the different water bottles offered. His mind made up he grabbed a case and went to the counter. A scruffy teen stood looking blankly.
"What, are you some kind of pirate?" he asked ringing the purchase up. Vikter just pointed to a rack of cigarettes.
"These? You got ID, Pirate man?" Americans were strict and Vikter knew by now they required identification to buy tobacco. He pulled his from a pocket and showed it to the clerk.
"Okay, that'll be twelve twenty-two." Vikter pulled a small sum from his pocket.
"This is foreign shit man, we don't take that." He said pushing the money back to Vikter's side of the counter. Again the man tried to hand the money to the clerk.
"Fine, man. Whatever." He answered shoving the money into the register. "No change, go away." He added motioning to the door. Grabbing his purchases he walked out, heading back for his boat. Shopping away from home always frustrated him. He had problems communicating with other German speaking people let alone people of other languages. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a suit shop. In the window were some of the most beautiful garments he'd ever seen. A tall man emerged from the building, wearing one of the fine black suits. He looked to Vikter, but paid no mind continuing on his way. Vikter watched him walk away, painfully reminded of the past. Looking to the ground, he stood for a moment, reminiscing. Then, without hesitation, returned back to his craft.
Throwing the water into his small refrigerator, he couldn't help but think of that man. So handsome and perfect. He wondered if the man in the suit knew what he had. SlumpingFlopping onto his cot. Why couldn't he stop thinking of the man? Standing up again he looked out the window above his bed. The gulls were flying about the water putting on their own little show. The water sparkling seemed almost as if it were alive and smiling at him. He quickly turned and lit a cigarette. He sat down on his cot again and watched the stick burn. Maybe, it wasn't the only thing he could control... Maybe he could have a life, like the man in the suit seemed to... But the thoughts quickly sunk when he glanced at his hands. Scarred and stained he was reminded that he was not handsome, and he didn't have the money for such nice things.
However, he couldn't help but think "what if?" Laying down he pulled his knit hat from his head, hanging on a hook mounted to the wall. He stared up at the spear hanging from the wall, remembering when he used it to hunt a shark off the coast of Australia. It was the first and last time he'd killed a shark. It was the only time he had to. He'd gotten this far without money or people, yet something was still lacking. It was that man that had made him realize how unhappy he was, and he began to hate him for it. If he hadn't seen him, that emptiness would remain a mystery. He loathed the man in the suit.
He loathed him for making that emptiness all the bigger.