BrynLeretu Habitica 01-28-2021

Written by: BrynLeretu

[Finish the story]-[Marcus could hear the horn sound in the distance, a sign he was getting closer to the island. Soon he would be face to face with the father he left behind ten years ago. Every day since he left, he had made a mental list of all the things he wanted to say when he returned, but now only one thing came to mind. He would…]

''I’d tell him to frig off, that’s what. Frig off and stop calling me,'' he thought. I don’t want to have to deal with you anymore.

And yet, here I am—Marcus sighed in his berth as he thought this next bit—''coming here, out of my own free will. Life’s nuts, isn’t it?''

“Isn’t it?” he shouted to no one in particular. Unsurprisingly, no one, in particular or in general, answered back.

Marcus sighed yet again, this time putting his right hand to his face and grabbing his suitcase handle with his left one.

“I don’t want to do this,” he muttered into his palm before grabbing a neon pink duffel bag with the right hand to which it corresponded and taking one last look at the cabin: dark, cramped, with a poorly made bed (and it was rather rumpled as well, one had to concede) and with one measly outlet where one of the sockets malfunctioned. Even a member of the proletariat wouldn’t dare sleep here.

Marcus stepped out of the hovel and onto the deck with his head down and with a gait that was oddly graceful for the predicament that he was in.

The day was as bright as his cabin was otherwise, and the mazarine waves of the Atlantic ocean almost seemed to sparkle in the midday sun. This was a day in early July, where this weather, unlike most of the rest of the year, was commonplace in the area.

In the middle of all this ocean lay Prince Edward Island in all its rusty-red glory. Various structures dotted the coastlines, and one could almost taste the Cows ice cream from this distance. However, Marcus didn't notice any of this, not even to clip on his sunglasses to his regular prescription ones. Instead, he was, rather predictably, lost in his thoughts.

''I still can’t believe I’m returning to the Island after all these years. I almost didn’t purchase a round trip to Charlottetown, but he did threaten to cut off my inheritance if I didn’t show up to his wedding. And normally, I would stuff his inheritance, but Rick and I are broke right now. Rick’s never fully recovered from having gotten Covid nine months ago, and try as I may, I am failing to support us both.''

''Being an artist on the Internet is fraught with peril, IP theft and people just not being interested, which is why Rick was the main breadwinner. But that was pre-pandemic, and pre-getting laid off. Then he caught the virus himself, and we had to divide the apartment in half and…ugh, frig you Covid. If it weren’t for you….''

The horn sounded again, interrupting such thoughts. Marcus looked up at the sky and cursed at its brightness before putting his sunglasses on and looking at his battered watch.

''It’s just for a few days. I’ll go to the hotel room that my sister’s booked for me, get ready for the wedding, head over to the church, see my father get married for the third time, be there long enough for him to notice that I’m there so he won’t cut me off, interact with the family members who didn’t treat me like crap after they found out that I was dating Rick, check out of my hotel room and head back to the rock. It couldn’t be simpler, he told himself.''

A minute later, the ferry stopped at Charlottetown and its passengers, Marcus included, began to disembark.