Chapter 15 The Right to Refuse Him, Part 1

The dawn is mostly black, but for a few tinges of light on vague clouds that conceal the horizon. Generations before me have promised that the night is always darkest before dawn, and I know this to be true.

Especially on the water.

Despite the last minute rush of deep and lonely darkness, though, this has always been my favorite time of the day. I've spent many nights like this on the sea as the steward of my own destiny, and I still rejoice in something that is beyond me; something that is ever steady and true.

But, on this particular break of morning, I find no joy in the promise of it. Whatever light or hope may exist, I’ve entered the darkest period of my life and I’m not sure I can even make it to the dawn.

My choices have been destroying me.

Oddly enough, this livelihood of mine is all I have now, and it's all about choices; this spot or that, this side or another. I can rely on my own ability and strength out here, and, of course, I can always count on the fish to be stupid. But, today, despite my years of experience, I’m coming up empty.

Anymore, it seems I can't do anything right.

I should have eaten by now, but I’ve been so consumed with guilt and shame that to eat anything at all seems like another betrayal. Surely, I can’t be satisfying my own hunger in the wake of this.

I’m starting to feel sick.

Still, all I know to do is to pour myself into work and hope this passes. I’m stripped nearly bare out here, both literally and I suppose figuratively, perhaps as a penance. I've been at this all night and nothing. Maybe I'm being punished.

So, what exactly did I do? I denied a friend. Said I didn't know him. It was deliberate and even I was surprised by it.

Of all the people for me to refuse, I chose him.

One time, I could live with, but then, I did it a second time. And a third. My world was spinning and quite frankly I might have done it again and again if given the opportunity. But, it stopped. Gratefully, it stopped with a startle. The shrill and echo of it still shrieks in my ears.

I had been spared.

The thing is, I'm afraid I'll do it again and I can't live with myself much longer if that's the case. If I couldn’t control myself then, who's to say I ever will? He made his point, you know--that I have the ultimate power to choose and the right to refuse him.

Perhaps I should run away and stop embarrassing myself.

And him.

Without breakfast, the chill in the air seems almost unbearable now. I start to shiver uncontrollably. But I stay with the task at hand, because I will figure this out by myself. The black sky is turning deep purple and it's giving way to slivers of orange and shades of gray as I steady myself. Voices of friends and brothers are murmuring in the background and I know they're talking about me.

Of course, I'm intimidating. I always have been, so no one will come out and say what they're thinking to my face.

They're afraid that I won't ever forgive myself. Could they think I'd be foolish enough to end it? Judas did. Maybe that's why they're never too far from my side. They don't want to leave me to my own fate.

The wind picks up and as it does, smoke reaches me all the way out here, so I turn around. Off in the distance, on the beach, I see the flickering of a fire. A man is crouched over it, fanning it and giving it life. I keep my eyes on him as I pull the net out of the water and it's empty, again.

He gets up and walks ankle deep into the shore, puts his hands up around his mouth and shouts to me:

“Try the other side!”

And just like that, I'm distracted from my feigned confidence and self loathing. My gut reaction is to question how he knows better than I, for I’ve been to this spot before, hundreds of times, and I’ve controlled my own destiny with my own hands and my very own choices. I’ve trusted my discernment and crafted my own judgment.

“Go ahead. Try it!” he shouts again, through laughter, as if knowing my inner struggle is almost always in vain.

Well, nothing is going my way, so what can it hurt? The fish may be stupid, but I’m not. The breaking of the night is eerily timed as the sun peers over the eastern sky.

So I lift the net as my brothers watch, and I throw it…

To be continued