Chapter 2

     I never expected the day my life changed to be so ordinary.  I mean, who wakes up and says "My life will change today, I can feel it?"  I woke up to a beautiful October morning sun shining through my window.  My philosophy class didn't start until almost noon, so I relished the fact that I could take my time getting ready.  I showered, dried my hair and pulled out the standard make up which consisted mostly of waterproof mascara and an eyelash curler.  The day was warm for the season so I grabbed my favorite old soccer club shirt and jeans, added my Chuck Taylors and reached for my skim supply of accessories.  Feeling a little 'punkish' I found myself putting on the leather wrist cuff that used to be Papas.

     As I sat down to eat my yoghurt and toast, I couldn't help but look at the cuff.  It was old, worn and had holes in it.  The only thing seemingly remarkable about it was the odd lines encircled in some areas and what appeared to be a small cross by the ties.  My fingers reached over and touched the soft leather, remembering the cuff on my father's wrist.  He always wore it when he would leave for weeks on end. We were surprised to get it back after he drowned; the coast guard had found it shoved in a seat cushion in the boat's cabin.  Maman had barely looked at it and had handed it to me without a word.

     Fourteen years later that day was still fresh in my memory, as was the numbness that accompanied it.  Papa's death had been so sudden and pointless.  Even now I couldn't figure out how he had been knocked out by the sail.  Even without remembering much else about sailing, the one thing I had drilled into me was "Watch the boom."  From the mast came the boom which anchored the main sail into place.  Because of the wind's changing of direction, the boom has to pivot and swing.  Many inexperienced sailors find themselves overboard because of forgetting the simple rule "watch the boom."  When the wind changes directions too quickly and the boat would shift, the boom can come flying across the cockpit and knock you upside the head or even into the water.

     My father died the death of someone making a rookie mistake.

     I tossed the empty yoghurt cup into the garbage bin and rinsed the spoon off in the sink.  Holding my toast with my mouth I grabbed my bag and keys, heading for the door.  I still had some time to kill so I decided to walk instead of taking my bike.  The houses on my street were preparing for Halloween and bore the colors of fall.  I waved to Mrs. Foster across the street as she straightened the crab apple wreath on her front door.  A breeze caught it and the smell of the cinnamon sticks she'd put in the arrangement caught my nose.

    Removing the toast from my mouth I called to her, "Good morning Mrs. Foster!  I love the new wreath!  Did you make that?"

    Mrs. Foster stood back to look at her handiwork.  "Good morning Kindra.  It's a variation of a nut wreath I found in a magazine.  I wanted something with more color... I hope it lasts."  She turned to show the concern in her face.  Immediately, I returned the look of concern.

    "It looks great!  Even if it only lasts a week it really is the prettiest one on the street!"  Her eyes narrowed a little at my response, picking up a little possibly on the fact that I was regretting getting into a discussion with her about holiday arraignments that I knew nothing about.

    "It smells wonderful!  Was that part in the magazine?"  She turned back to her door, "No, I did that.  Just feels like fall smells like apples and cinnamon."  I smiled, sincerely, and started walking.  "It's brilliant.  I love cinnamon.  Have a great day Mrs. Foster!"

   She waved and went to pull some stray weeds from her flower beds.  Relieved I quickened my pace towards the park.

   I had a hard time being friendly with people.  I could do it but the fact was that I never felt like I fit in anywhere.  Something always made me feel as though no matter how I looked, what I said or did, that I would always be an outsider that people were wary of.  It had been like that when I was small, I had very few friends growing up.  Even those who did decide to be friends with me were odd and didn't know how to take me.  Maman always called me "the square peg" and other such things.  I guess it would make me a really interesting adult when I got there for real, but until then it was lonely and uncomfortable to be alone in a crowded room.

    The leaves sounded delicious crunching under my feet, I found myself walking on the grass in the park to crunch the larger piles that had been cleared from the sidewalk.  I looked around to make sure I was alone and upon seeing I was, ran down the street towards a particularly large pile jumping in the middle and loosing my balance.  I had to laugh, I remember as a child I had what Papa called "sea legs" which meant I could balance on a heaving boat without thinking about it.  On land, I wasn't as lucky and somehow my legs tended to get tangled without much effort.  I wasn't easily embarrassed, people stared at me anyways so to find myself flat on my back without an audience struck me as funny.

    I finally pulled myself up and stood to brush off my jeans and pick the leaves out of my hair.  As I moved to dislodge a twig from my sleeve, I froze.  Everything was too still, like a calm before a storm.  The birds were silent, the leaves had stopped rustling and the air around me seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.  I tried to remain calm as I adjusted myself, peeking out of the corner of my eyes.

     He was about 30 yards away, standing next to the stream, still as the woods around him.  He resembled the people I'd been seeing my whole life; tan, long hair, alarmingly bottle green eyes and wearing linen clothing.  The only difference between him and the others was his boots which he looked quite at home in.  His weight rested on his right leg and his arms were crossed as he looked at me.  No, he stared, giving the impression of an annoyed baby-sitter whose charge was misbehaving.

     I stared back, equally curious and annoyed at his audacity for not lowering his gaze.  He didn't budge and I found myself looking over my shoulder to make sure he was looking at me.  I was surprised to see that behind me, about two blocks away was another man.  Dressed in a black suit with a long jacket, he was clean cut and looked as though he was on his way to work.  He carried nothing but began to move down the block with his hands in his pockets towards me.

     I turned back to the other man and found him moving quickly towards me as well.  I froze, not sure which direction to move.  The man approached me, reaching down and grabbing my wrist gently.  His fingers closed around my father's wrist cuff and his eyes narrowed as he raised and examined the cuff.  He closed his eyes in apparent exasperation and whispered in a hoarse voice through gritted teeth, "Kindra, what is the matter with you?  Why on earth would you be wearing this on land and in public?"

     He looked over my head and I turned, seeing the man in the dark coat quickening his pace towards us.  The man holding my arm put his other hand on my shoulder and began to steer me quickly towards the stream.  Before I could protest, I was standing in the middle, freezing water filling my shoes.

      Finally reclaiming my voice, I turned toward the man who was reaching for a chain around his neck.  "What in the hell are you doing?"  He pulled a medallion out of his shirt, one hand still firmly on my wrist he smirked and looked up just as the man in the dark coat reached the bridge.

     The man holding my arm bent down, readying to place the medallion on the top of the water.  "I'm doing what we swore to your father we'd do, protect you at all costs."  The medallion hit the water and the last thing I was conscious of was the roar of water rushing up from my feet to my head swallowing me whole.