January 13. 'Sigh of relief' as delayed Scottish ferry completes first return journey
Martin stood on the ramp at the back of the queue as they reached land. Saying goodbye had been as difficult as they’d imagined it would be, and what lay ahead was going to be even harder.
He watched children run up and leap into parents and uncles and aunties embraces, lots of noise, happy tears and hollering, everything all good with the world again. They skipped and danced through the debris that littered the floor, broken pieces of wood that could have been anything, paint still bright as a button. Warm words of love and relief filling the air, tumbling over each other.
He held back, waiting for the crowd to thin.
“How are you going to feel?” Yaz had asked him when the
all-clear had been confirmed.
“When we get there?”
She’d nodded, everyone on the ferry was having the same
conversation.
“I guess I’ll be happy.” He’d answered, unsure what else he
could say.
Sixty-three days and nights they’d been away, a large number
for sure, but still just a number, and numbers are relative, it could have been
a hundred times that or a matter of hours, they’d all still have felt the same,
that had been agreed.
Martin had hung back partly to avoid watching Yaz leave, she
had been in the first group to disengage. He’d seen others though, Graham who
waved at him before walking towards a black SUV and Leanne who’d pulled her hat
down low and marched ahead, pushing through other people’s people.
She’d been the first one to claim the disease was on the
mainland, not the boat, but no one could confirm that, the crew had been given
minimal information, and even when they’d been in direct contact the details
had remained smudged, no matter how much they’d tried to uncover.
A teenager called to him from the bottom of the ramp, “Are
you coming down?” He was still growing into his features, nothing was set yet,
but he had a strong jaw and a powerful nose. “You’re the last one.”
He offered a stick thin arm to help guide Martin back to
earth, which was accepted. Without the sound of the waves and the gulls it was
almost as if the gods had abandoned them all, tossed them back to these savages
who he couldn’t read anymore, those who’d been ill or healthy.
Back on land the air was thinner, cold and transparent.
Isolation had been hard, but freedom was scarier.
“I can walk from here” he said and headed up the path
towards the lights, he had to rest now, before tomorrow, they all did.
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