#The Woman From the Sea

[birdofdawning]

The Woman From the Sea

The beginning is here; the previous part is here.

9. Marriage

The Lighthouse Keeper wakes up to the smell of warm baking and is momentarily back in her childhood and her grandmother’s tiny basement apartment on East 6th Street. She holds on to the comfort of the memory for as long as she can, until she can’t ignore her brain asking But how?

When the Lighthouse Keeper staggers into the Common Room she finds Dottie sitting on the window seat reading another mystery novel.

“I can smell bread?” she asks.

“Yes!” says Dottie, sitting up. “I wanted you to have a proper lunch (well, breakfast technically, because you’re literally breaking your fast) so I made some tomato soup and bread. But you didn’t have any yeast so I made soda bread. I used a can of beer as the fermenting agent — I hope you weren’t saving it, but it was over a year old and in the back of the cupboard. And I used a little of the frozen butter to thicken the milk. I tried to be frugal.” She wrings her hands, and searches the Lighthouse Keeper’s face for her reaction. “I hope that was...”

The Lighthouse Keeper rubs her eyes with her palms. “No, that’s fine. The beer was still around because it wasn’t that great. And I only had one left, and once you drink one you kinda want to keep going, you know?”

“The alcohol stimulates certain of the neurons in your dorsomedial striatum, specifically the dopamine receptors that rewards behavior.”

“You know, I had wondered if it was that,” says the Lighthouse Keeper. “But then I thought, is that crazy?”

“Oh no!” confirms Dottie earnestly, “a recent study published in the Journal of Neuroscience found that mice—”

“Well, I know I’m relieved,” interrupts the Lighthouse Keeper. “You must tell me more SOME OTHER TIME,” she says hurriedly as Dottie opens her mouth again. “Right now I just want to eat.”

Sitting at the tiny kitchen table the Lighthouse Keeper is served a bowl of hot soup. “Are those chives?” she says, frowning, “Where on earth—?”

“There were some outside,” says Dottie as she places a plate of warm bread on the table. “In the old garden?”

“What?” The Lighthouse Keeper takes a mouthful of soup and her eyes widen. “Oh my god! Dottie, this is amazing! How on earth… where did you get… how did this come from the rubbish in the cupboards?”

Dottie appears to shiver with the praise. “Oh, tomato soup isn’t very hard. And you had the basics – largely many, many cans of tomatoes. Though the vinegar is past its expiry date, Jane: it is double-fermented, and it tasted fine so I felt it was safe to use, but you should replace it soon.”

“Is that… Dottie, is there cream in this? It can’t be cream!?” Her eyes suddenly narrow as she says “Dottie, where did you get the cream.”

“As I said, I thickened the milk with some butter, for the fat content, and used a little potassium bitartrate as the thickening agent. It’s nothing like proper cream but I’m pleased how well it worked.”

“No’ my potassium bitartrate!” says the Lighthouse Keeper with her mouth full, “I was savin’ that special!” and Dottie freezes with a look of horror. “Uh, so that was a joke,” she says, swallowing. “Dottie, I don’t even know what potassium bitartrate is, so I don’t think I’ll miss it.”

Dottie blinks at her. “Crème of Tatar,” she explains. “Oh, I see. Yes, you stated the opposite of what you meant for the humorous impact.” She nods several times, pleased with herself, and the Lighthouse Keeper relaxes and wonders if nobody in Dottie's life ever takes the time to joke around with her, and why not.

Dottie rambles on. “The bread really ought to be buttered too, to add to the richness,” she says looking down at the plate, brow creased at the omission, “but I didn’t want to use too much. You only have the one block.”

“S’fine,” the Lighthouse Keeper waves her concerns away with a hand as she takes a thick slice of soda bread. “Oh! Oh, this is…” she gestures inarticulately with her mouth full and Dottie smiles happily.

“I’m so glad you liked it. And I honestly was very sparing. There’s still half of the beer left if you want it—”

The Lighthouse Keeper waves the suggestion aside. “No, let’s have bread again tomorrow. While I’ve got you around I might as well take advantage.” Dottie looks down blushing, and the Lighthouse Keeper, who is absolutely not remembering her guest’s face upon discovering the trunk in the bedroom, quickly carries on “… of your prowess in the kitchen! Is what I want to take advantage of! Because you sure are… good at that. Yes, ma'am!” She determinedly concentrates her attention on her meal but after a moment the silence makes her look up again.

Dottie is leaning forward slightly, her usual open, earnest expression replaced with a look of cool professional focus. She is examining the Lighthouse Keeper’s bare hands. And the Lighthouse Keeper realises that she has left her fingerless gloves on her bedside table with her watch and her keys.

She clears her throat and pulls her long sleeves up over her palms, looking back down at her bowl. After a moment Dottie gets up to boil the kettle. 

Later the Lighthouse Keeper is stretched out on the couch half-reading some thing but mostly listening to Dottie as she sits at the bookshelf looking for her next novel. It’s nice having someone else here, she realizes. Better than she would have guessed a week ago.

“The problem is I remember so many of these Christies, and it never feels the same if you know how the puzzle fits together as you start. Don’t you think? And she’s not someone I read for the writing.” Dottie chats away happily as she pulls paperbacks out to look over their synopses. “Jane, why do you only have paperbacks?”

“Lighter to bring over,” says the Lighthouse Keeper lazily. “And I get most of ’em secondhand for a few dollars each, so I’m not fussed if they stay here.”

“What are these: Murder Out of Turn. Death Takes a Bow. Jane, what are these ‘North’ mysteries like?”

“’Mr and Mrs North’. They’re good. Old American whodunnits, with a married couple as the detectives. Although there’s a cop friend of theirs in it too. And the husband is just this ordinary guy, right? But the wife, she seems to be this dizzy quirky little thing; like, the comedy relief. But she’s the one who solves each of the mysteries. Because she sees things from such a different point of view to everyone, and inconsistencies really bother her.”

Dottie has turned Death Takes a Bow over and is reading the back. “I like the idea of a couple who solve mysteries together. It sounds like it would be cute, but without detracting from keeping the puzzle foremost.”

The Lighthouse Keeper sits up a little and turns her head on the arm rest to look directly at her guest. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Not getting bogged down in the ‘will they, won’t they’ or the sex or whatever. You married, Dot?”

She says it without any change in intonation, as if it was a causal inquiry. But they both know it’s not and the silence that follows seems to fill the room as loudly as the wind outside. Dottie is still staring at the back of the paperback but her eyes are unseeing and her neck is flushed. After a moment the Lighthouse keeper slides back down onto the couch and listens as Dottie begins to put books back on the shelf. Staring up at the ceiling she begins to make some conjectures.

[motherofplatypus]

Historical women from Palestine.

[enghanalulu]

I am afraid of foot amputation 😭😭😭

Before the war started, I had surgery on my leg. There was something called a fish eye. Unfortunately, the doctor will not be able to do it correctly, so it has grown more and more since the beginning of the war, and I will not be able to do it until now.😥😥

I can no longer walk and put pressure on my legs 💔😔

If you care about my situation, especially in light of this catastrophic situation and during the cursed war, I ask you to help me get out to safety when seeking refuge after opening the crossing and performing the surgical operation because there is no health equipment 😔😭😭

The situation is very disastrous.

Please help

@fallahifag @vakarians-babe @plomegranate @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @el-shab-hussein @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @ibtisams-blog @animentality @kordeliiius @communistchilchuck @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @the-bastard-king @tamarrrra @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates @awetistic-things @gentlemanuniverse @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @sammywo @raelyn-dreams @mangocheesecakes @palms-upturned @ibtisams-deactivated20240709 @90-ghost @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @what-is-my-aesthetic @palesttino @bogleech @psyga315 @hellovampy @upontheshelfreviews @13ag21k @the-bastard-king @marscodes @oursapphirestar @boyvandal-blog

[sugas6thtooth]

[mohntilyet]

continued rook-lucanis sketches from the last week or so <3

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

every monster high fancast is just:

Frankie: white woman

Draculaura: white woman

Cleo: white woman

Lagoona: white woman

Abbey: white woman

Ghoulia: white woman

Clawdeen: Zendaya

[schilesteacup]

Hannibal and Will confronting each other in Season 3

S1 | S2

S3E02 Primavera / S3E07 Digestivo / S3E09 And the Woman Clothed with the Sun / S1E10 And the Woman Clothed in the Sun / S3E11 And the Beast from the Sea / S3E13 The Wrath of the Lamb

[polkadotjohnson]

The Flash - Central City Strong (2021)

[marypickfords]

Hisako Tsukuba in Woman from the Sea (Koreyoshi Kurahara, 1959)

[entesarfares2013]

I am Intisar from Gaza. A mother of 7 children, we suffered a lot in this war. I am the only breadwinner for them. I try to protect them with all my might, and they try with me as much as possible to prepare food and provide water that is not available, and they are exposed to a lot of harm in the process. They move with me from tent to tent in public, finding safety They were children, but suddenly they grew up and became concerned about how this day would pass while we were safe. Help me get out of Gaza, whether by donating or sharing the link

[birdofdawning]

The Woman From the Sea

1. The Coat

The coat is sleek and black with sea water, and exquisitely tailored. At first, looking down the cliff steps to the sea, the Lighthouse Keeper had thought it might be a seal lying there on the rocks. Then she had wondered if it might perhaps be a body and began clambering down, one gloved hand on the railing. But now she is halfway down she can see it’s only a coat.

Still, she thinks as she holds it up, it’s a good find. Some flotsam courtesy of last night’s storm. It might be a little too short for her, but perhaps it will fit her mother once it’s dried out. If the salt water hasn’t ruined it.

She starts back up to the lighthouse, pausing more than once to look out over the waves and the warm white light playing on the Atlantic. But there are black clouds on the horizon and the wind is rising; she has been here long enough to know that this calm is only a reprieve, and she had best get to work.

The Lighthouse Keeper throws the coat to soak in a bucket of fresh water in the laundry house, and begins her after-storm inspections. The generator is fine; the thick walls of its shed keep it safe from even the harshest winds. And the light and the beacons are sound. But, as so often before, the long-range aerial is down, blown into several pieces.

Some quirk of the Rock means that the satellite phone is only good at certain parts of the day, and often only for calling out. The responses the Lighthouse Keeper gets today are garbled and fade in and out. But she has checked in, and later that morning a coast guard cutter passes by to hail her.

“The aerial’s out, but everything else is fine. I’m fine,” she tells them. “I’ll have it up again in a day or two, depending on the weather.”

“We’ll get the patrols to check in when they’re nearby, until you’ve got it going anyway,” they answer, “You got everything you need, Rizzoli?”

“I’m good,” the Lighthouse Keeper says, and then she is alone again.

She breaks to sit at her kitchen table and eat her breakfast. Her hand — which has been aching for days — abruptly spasms and she swears as she drops her fork onto her lap. Almost reluctantly she turns to look out the window and confirm what her hands have already told her. Out over the ocean more dark clouds are rolling in. The second part of the storm will hit the Rock before the afternoon. Better get moving.

The wind has turned brisk and cold, and the Lighthouse Keeper stops to put on a muddy coat over her sweater and a beanie over her head — her hair has become too long and wind-tangled over the months, and gets in the way. Finally she carefully slips on a pair of fingerless woollen gloves. They don’t stop the constant ache from her palms, but they do stop the sting of the wind while she works.

On her way over to the workshed, the squawking of gulls attracts her attention. It’s not unusual. The gulls are always fighting over something; probably the storm has washed up a sheep carcass, or beached enough fish to excite them. But still, she turns to follow the sound, conscious of an odd feeling of anticipation low in her belly. It’s not unfamiliar. It’s what she used to think made her a good investigator, that dash of intuition that told her which leads to pay attention to first. Until the night her intuition lead her into a dark basement in a show-home.

This thought makes the Lighthouse Keeper hesitate. But no, she’s not going to be a person who hesitates anymore (although, a little voice says, isn’t that really what she’s been doing for the last two years?) And the last thing she needs is another stranded porpoise. She’ll take a look.

The gulls are wheeling over the cove, the only stretch of sandy shore on the Rock. It faces the mainland, in the lea of the Atlantic, and can be walked end to end in six minutes. This is where the boats land, and where she will be picked up for her rest week in fifteen days’ time. As she starts down the track to the sands the wind dies down for a moment and a strange yellow light makes everything stand out with a stark clarity. Long experience has taught her this means the rain will begin soon.

The track from the Lighthouse gives her a long view down the cove, all the way to the half-ruined boathouse that hasn’t been used since the ‘70s. Nothing seems out of place, no carcass or beached porpoise, thankfully. But she carries on, stepping down from the track, her workboots sinking into the sand and hampering her usual long stride. The gulls are still crying above her, though she now sees that they are moving out over the sea. A large school of fish, she guesses. Though they’re not diving.

A moment later she realises why. Out in the waters of the cove, regarding her intently, is the sleek head of a seal. They look at each other for a long moment, the Lighthouse Keeper on the shore, the seal out in the waves.

And then the seal moves towards her, rising out of the water. It’s not a seal. It’s a woman. A movie-beautiful woman in an evening dress, the seawater darkening her long hair and leaving it sleek and grey in the golden light.

The Lighthouse Keeper stands absolutely still as the woman walks out of the waves and across the sand towards her, steadily and surely, as if she had just noticed the Lighthouse Keeper across a crowded room and was coming to welcome her.

When she reaches the Lighthouse Keeper, the Woman From the Sea smiles.

“Hello,” she says.

Then she collapses at the Lighthouse Keeper’s feet.

[clouvu]

No thoughts head empty just Them

[enghanalulu]

Today is my birthday😥 and unfortunately it is not like before I am very sad and desperate... If you can make me happy, I ask you to help me and my family to reach the goal. I want someone who will upload my account and blog about me and publish

Donation is slow, I want to increase it, please🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭

@fairuzfai-blog @sayruq @longlivepalestina @nabulsi @self-hating-zionist @thenewgothictwice @el-shab-hussein @risoria @palipunk @palestine @intersectionalpraxis @fallairdontcare @sealuai @malcriada @mangocheesecakes @youdontknowwhotfthisis @farcillesbian @still--getting--there @apsswan @star-and-space-ace @rainbowywitch @marscodes @oursapphirestars @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @boyvandal-blog @the-bastard-king @13ag21k @agentmlovestacos @90-ghost @gloomwalker @until-another-one-comes @kushandwizdom @palms-upturned @soon-palestine @knaidlach @sweetcoupleseverywhere @orange-eyed-warrior @lemmmmmmmmmmonade @vakarians-babe @brutaliakhoa @communistchilchuck @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @gentl3m4n @awetistic-things @sammywo @raelyn-dreams @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @northgazaupdates2 @kordeliiius

[verypersonalscreencaps]

TOP 5 FIRST-TIME WATCHES OF AUGUST 2024

1. AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER (1957, dir. Leo McCarey) 2. A GHOST STORY (2017, dir. David Lowery) 3. FROM HERE TO ETERNITY (1953, dir. Fred Zinnemann) 4. THE GO-BETWEEN (2015, dir. Pete Travis) 5. YOUNG WOMAN AND THE SEA (2024, dir. Joachim Rønning)

[sugas6thtooth]

Share this. The people of Gaza need you to elevate their voice!

[marejadilla]

Michele Del Campo, "Today I regret all the times that I took shelter from summer storms", oil on linen, 2020. B. 1976, Sannicandro Garganico, Italy. Works in Miami.