The girl with no name

The girl with no name turned into the woman with no name, and years, wasted on staring out of the window, passed until one day it was enough and she said to her caretakers that she was going away.

She'd been staring out of the window for some weeks now, but not with the nothingness that was inside her but there was a spark. Curiosity.
Something was different.

At night she could see bright lights burning on the lakeside, where she knew the boathouse was. When she opened her window she could hear unfamiliar sounds, noises, like a construction site in the distance. And some nights it was quiet and she could see a fire and heard faint music playing.

"William?" She asked the old man one day. He was reading as usual, sitting behind his antique desk with his glasses at the edge of his nose.
"William, is there someone living in the boathouse?"

"Yes, Rain, we have a tenant."

"Who is it?"
"It is a man. An artist. Seems quiet and a bit sombre, but decent enough. He lives in the city, but I guess he seeks solitude."

"Solitude?" The woman with no name asked, staring back in the direction of the lake.

She leaned with her head against the cold window. Breathing hay against the glass.

With her fingernail she started to draw some lines, but then she shook her head irritated and wiped the window clean with her sleeve.

"I'm going to the greenhouse." She said.

"H...Raindis, dear girl, pick some rosemary for my tea while you're there."
She walked to the old man and kissed him on the cheek.

"Sure."

When she walked away, her head low as always, he followed her with his eyes - a deep sigh escaped him, while he massaged the worried frown on his wrinkled forehead - and then he went back to his readings.
"Memoria damnum causa per trauma." He mumbled.

The young woman walked across the lawn in the direction of the greenhouse, but then changed her course and headed to the lake.

It was a mild spring day and with her feet dangling in the cool water she sat on the old wooden jetty. She stared at the boathouse. She knew that it's purpose was not only for boats but the cabin attached to it also had a large window in it, to catch the light, so it could be used as a workplace for a painter. William told her that his wife used to work there and later their granddaughter.
She had been in the atelier once, but she started to get breathing trouble and anxiety overwhelmed her.

"Solitude." She whispered.
She got up and took of her clothes.

The water was still very cold, but she always liked the numb feeling it gave her.

Under the water she listened to the sounds that weren't there. Just faint rumbling and the murmur of the air bubbles around her body, the swishing of the blood through her veins.

Gasping for air she came to the surface.

At the edge of the lake stood a man. He looked at her.

She swam to the jetty and climbed out of the water. Without any sense of demureness she combed her wet hair out of her face, picked up her clothes and walked to the man.
The man seemed to drink in the sight of her nakedness.
For a short moment she felt shy.
But then the numbness blocked it out.

"Hi, you must be the tenant of the boathouse." She said as she held out her hand.

"Aren't you cold?" The man asked without taking her hand.

"Never."

When she tried to cover herself, suddenly conscious of the man's stare at her naked chest with the huge scar, he touched the back of her hand.

"Don't." He said with a deep but soft voice.
"It's ugly."

"No."

She smiled.
"What is your name?" She asked looking up at him. Inquisitive.
His face seemed pained in a way.

"I'm...I'm Edward." He cleared his throat staring in her eyes.
"And you?" A sudden frown between his brows made his gaze intense.

She turned away her head and seemed to ask for help from the lake.

"They...they call me Raindis."

He was quiet for a while.
"That is an unusual name."

"Yes, my...William....he says it means erratic, wondering bride." She laughs.

"In the old language. But you can call me Rain."

"That is...beautiful, but sad....in the young language." He laughed too. It made his soulful face light up suddenly.
She notices his teeth. She likes them.
"What do you call yourself?" He suddenly asked.

"Marbh."

"Marbh?"

"It means dead."

Back in her room she remembered the way the man looked when she told him how she called herself.
Marbh.
She didn't feel dead when she talked to him.
His smile.

He.

White.

Always that damned white that came over her when she tried to feel.
She put on some dry clothes and went to the greenhouse to pick the rosemary she promised her grandfather.
William.
She wondered how she suddenly knew he was her grandfather.

When her grandfather came into the kitchen he heard her whistling.

Surprized but with a warm heart he said to her: "Rain, dear, it makes me happy you seem to feel so much better today. Your hair is wet. Did you swim again?"

"Yes, grandpa, and I met the tenant."

The old man clutched the counter in order to find balance.
"What?" A broad smile on his face.
"I met the tenant. Is that funny?"

"Oh girl...you don't know...."

"I do...grandpa." She walked to the old man and hugged him.
The old man sobbed.
"Is it coming back, grandpa?"

"I think it is, child. I think it is."

That night she couldn't sleep. Her head hurt as it often did and somehow the scar in her chest seemed to feel more tight than usual.
It was time for her to move on.
She needed to tell her grandpa tomorrow that it was time for her to get back to life again.
Get a job. Get a life.
When she climbed out of bed and pushed the curtain aside she saw there was still light burning at the boathouse.

"Edward." She mouthed the name of the man she had met this afternoon.
The man with the nice teeth.
The nice teeth and the endless sadness in his eyes.

Silently she closed the bedroom door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs.

The lawn was damp from the night air and a path seemed to be lit over the lake.
When she came to the boathouse all was quiet except for a man's soft humming. No. Not really humming, more like moaning.

She sneaked through the door that was unlocked.

There was music softly playing. Electronic, hypnotic. A whiff of sweet smoke whirled into her nose. That moaning again, no, it was sobbing.

In the middle of the room was the man. He was sitting in a deep chair.

Dressed in a shirt over a tee and a pair of old ragged jeans with paint stains. The man had paint or chalk in his half long curly hair too.

The woman who called herself Marbh noticed that the man was well build. Lean, but strong. Broad shoulders. Smoking a joint. His head in his hand, a bottle of wine at his feet.
And he was crying.

"Edward."

With a start he jumped up. Kicking the almost empty wine bottle.

He looked at her as if he saw a ghost.

She heard him cry out her name.
Well. She didn't really hear it. But she knew he said it.
When he took one step towards her she fled, she fled before the white took over.
White.

White.
And then it cleared away again and she was sitting on the jetty at the lake site.
Her feet dangling in the water. Her eyes fixed at the moon till it disappeared behind thick clouds, to leave the sky in total darkness.
A clap of thunder and it began to rain.

"Hey fl...girl!" The man shouted.
He was standing at the beginning of the jetty.

The rain came gushing down now.

"Come here....it's pouring." He said while holding the tails of his shirt above his head as an umbrella.

Hesitant at first she approached. But he made an inviting gesture with his head to join him under his makeshift canopy, and she was becoming soaking wet already.

Awkwardly she was standing there. Impossible not to feel his body heat, smell him.

So familiar somehow.
When she touched his body to find more shelter he grunted involuntary.
She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. His eyes stirred something inside her.

Images came to live. Images exploding against the back of her mind. Like half frames, images of...hair, long and wavy, falling over a face...a young man sitting on a huge marble stairway, drawing...a crooked smile...a lean body against a lamppost, looking up at her window...a damp bathroom, candles...a mass of people....blood....his face....fear...

And then she fainted.