Icy

Mar 11, 2008 - 12:11 PM PST

Casey Peterson leaned against the chilled metal railing near the bow of the ferry. The water below was the most intense blue ever experienced and the ice floating on top absorbed the color beneath, and varied the shades from deep prussian blue to light aqua and finally to crisp white. The Ice hit the re-enforced steel hull of the boat and sent a hollow din echoing through the water.
The mist was cool and spiked with salt and it hit Casey's face with an unexpected ferocity. The collar was propped up and one more button fastened to keep out the chill beast. Some distance behind, there were looming Douglas firs and jagged mountains behind them. The mountains seemed to have witnesses a great deal of time, yet they were comparatively, quite young. They possessed some type of angst, like they wanted nothing more than to be left alone, so they became sharp. The contrasting trees below were much more forgiving. Their immense green boughs opened out wide, ready to coddle sleeping birds. The fog wrapped itself around the trees. It twisted through the branches and infiltrated the faint green haven. It was careful to avoid the sharp peaks and raw edges of the mountains for fear its delicate expanse becomes torn.
Casey turned around to view the older couple standing across the deck. They were staring at the ice on the ocean. The old man had his arm wrapped around the woman and she rested her head on his shoulder. The way they stood was comfortable, in the way a doorknob is worn down by the multitude of hands that have grasped it; slowly shaping it to a comfortable form fit for soft palms.
To Casey the couple seemed like a painting. So at ease was the way they stood at the side of the boat together, it made Casey smile. The old man was wearing a tan jacket and tweed cap. Casey imagined them to be the same cap and jacket he carefully removed from the coat rack and adorned every day, before kissing his wife goodbye. The two of them were familiar like the soft pink of the woman’s shawl. The kind of color that says “Come close. I’ll comfort you. I’ll listen to you.” Familiar like the smell Casey knew they would have, but the soft scent of soap and wisdom was no match for the abrasive salt air.
Just then the sudden sensation of needles began to strike Casey. The couple took notice of the rain and took in one last gaze at the ocean before heading to the sheltered area where the rest of the passengers were seated. But crowded spaces were objected to. Open air was much more pleasing.
The rain fell like Casey had never experienced before. The drops seemed to visibly tear at the fog; gently but surely, like thin razors on soft skin. It bombarded everything with a dull roar and other noises fought to reach their destinations. Casey’s ears were filled with the sound that erased others from the sea. The rain enveloped the lone human form at the bow.
Eventually bodies tend to disintegrate despite human will. In this case it was the fact that Casey’s teeth had begun to chatter and the bones in all ten finders had become brittle as ice, clamped around the steel railing. The need for outdoor air was overpowered by the need for warmth and Casey found that suddenly the shaky legs beneath slipped along the deck towards the sheltered room.
Squeaky Hinges revealed a large room with faded orange and blue plastic benches. Yellowed lights hazed everything over with warmth. The murmur of voices mingled with the drumming of icy rain against the foggy glass windows. Sharp bursts of laughter erupted from a batch of children in the corner, immediately silenced by tense hushes from parents teetering on the edge of their patience. Among the thick smell of dust, germs and cheep cleaning products was the rough smell of burnt coffee. Casey decided to pursue the aroma and headed to the back of the room.
Thoughtful eyes found themselves starring into the dark liquid. The thin paper cup exuded heat and Casey’s numb hands welcomed the feeling, and the ten fingers grasped around the cheap cup turned peachy once again. Steam rose up and lavishly cascaded over the rim of the cup and twisted as it fell. Casey watched it coil and twist, dancing, until with one last spin it dissipated.
After the coffee, the room became suffocating. The rain had moved out and the sun was beginning to pierce through the thick mass of clouds. The weather in Alaska is wild. Everything about that part of the world is wild. The weather demonstrated it. It had a way of magnifying emotions. If a person wanted to clear their head, Alaska was the place to go to do it. Senses are heightened in the crisp air. Everything becomes clear and big.
Casey was now back at the side of the boat, leaning against the railing looking out on the sea. The ice sucked up even more blue after the small storm had past. Some lingering clouds still hung low on the horizon. The passing rain was just enough to rinse the heavy sea salt off everything and clarity seemed to be the predominant feature hanging in the air. Clarity covered everything. With the fog absent, the view was extended. The blue and white of the icy ocean stretched out to the horizon to greet the grays in the sky. Deep blue peeked through the gaps in the white ice and the depth of color was admirable. All the cold colors were penetrating and Casey’s grasp around the railing tightened.
Muffled shouts emitted from the sheltered room but Casey didn’t bother looking back at them because the clarity of the blue ocean was overwhelming.
Inside the refuge a woman felt a tugging on her jacket. She was fairly young, but already had a child of four years. She brushed her soft brown hair away from her face before addressing her son. She turned to ask him what was wrong, anticipating only another bathroom break or complaints about the long trip. But as soon as she saw his troubled face starring out the window to the deck she became worried. She looked up and saw a figure by the railing.
Casey stood and took in another deep breath of frigid sea air, with both hands clasped firmly around the railing. First one foot was lifted, then the other. Then, Casey was standing on the railing, left hand grasping a flagpole for balance. The ferry continued to forge through the ice. All five fingers simultaneously released the pole and balance was no longer needed. The blue enveloped Casey and icy clarity rushed in. And Casey Peterson realized that the water’s much colder once you’ve hit the surface.