A Porcelain Lullaby [Chapter Two]

Two

Fishing was not quite what Adam had expected: It did not involve many rods. Morris, the man who operated the local fishing business and who had offered Adam the job, had his boats set up to catch primarily cod by a method called bottom-trawling. Trawling involved a single boat dragging a large net across the seafloor. The net was made with gaps just the right width to catch anything around the size of a cod, but this meant most things bigger than cod got pulled up too; Morris told a few stories of fishermen who’d picked up some strange creatures: from a four-and-a-half metre goblin shark that had strayed too far east, which was able to extend its jaws quite horrifically; to several Atlantic cranch squid, which at first appeared as though they were perfect black spheres - almost pearl-like, before slowly reverting back to their transparent cockatoo shaped form. May was right: there were monsters in the dark depths of the ocean, but they weren’t quite the giant ship eating leviathans that had swum into Adam’s mind when May had mentioned it previously.

Operating the trawling nets was not so difficult, and that was all Adam had to do: stand at the stern and just hit the right buttons to pull the net up, or drop it down, whenever the skipper shouted. Two men would then come out onto the deck and pack all the fish into ice boxes, tossing any unwanted stuff back into the water. Morris said Adam would be taught how to use the electronic equipment located in the superstructure of the boat: sonar, echosounders and the like, in due course. For now though, the back of the boat was his domain, and he didn’t mind: Adam was a quick learner, he’d started at six in the morning as per arrangement and it was now only two in the afternoon and yet he felt fully confident. The spray from the sea wasn’t that bad either, as long as Adam spat out the majority of it. He’d found out the hard way that even just a little bit of salt-water on an empty stomach would quickly cause you to throw up.

Adam spent most of the time sat on a ridge at the back of the boat, dipping in and out of his daydreams whilst waiting for the skipper’s orders.
“Well, this isn’t at all what I expected,” May spoke before she was visible, but she slowly appeared on the opposite ridge to Adam.
Adam did a half-laugh, half-grunt in reply.
“So...” May looked as though she had something on her mind.
Adam had a pretty clear idea of what it was and so he spoke before she had the chance, “the painting?”
“Yes, the painting,” May grinned, and then continued, “what do you think about the painting?”
Adam shrugged.
“What does that mean?” May appeared genuinely confused for a moment.
“It means I don’t know what I think about it.”
“Well, do you think the boy in the parka was supposed to be you?” May asked.
“May, they’re my parents; they’re bound to take inspiration for a boy’s clothes from my clothes,” Adam said, sounding irritated.
“Well I suppose...” May replied, and then, much to Adam’s dismay she said “but it could be you.”
Adam didn’t reply, so May, smiling as always, took the opportunity to tease him: “you, walking down a lovely beach, finally with a real friend, and not only that, but a girl holding your hand, oh, how we have all waited for this day!”
Adam unintentionally sighed a little, and then returned May’s smile, sarcastically.
“Adam, I have a feeling your par-”
“Bring ‘er up!” the skipper’s shout broke Adam’s conversation with May and caused her to quickly fade from his thoughts.
“’Aye ‘aye cap’n,” he muttered to himself as he pressed two buttons and flicked a switch on his control panel and the motors started whirring and, after a few moments, pulling the net onto the deck. The two ice-boxers emerged from the hull where they’d been sat waiting, both in big red anoraks and gloves. They began to pile the fish into the boxes as Adam watched.
“Here, mate, come ‘ere,” one of them gestured for Adam to come closer. Adam did so, and the man placed an icebox in front of Adam’s feet.
“You can help us ou-”
“Jimmy, Morris said the kid was just supposed to learn to do the net today,” the second man interrupted the first.
“Ah, ‘e’ll be fine, there’s nout to it, all you do is you make sure you don’t squash ‘em too much, pile ‘em in ‘orizontal like this, aye?” Jimmy showed Adam how to pack the fish whilst he spoke, and Adam copied him.
“Told you, look’a! Boy’s a natural,” Jimmy patted Adam on the shoulder whilst Adam smiled and started on his second box. Jimmy’s accent was a little strange, but he seemed quite warm: Adam had overheard him joking and laughing with the other man earlier.

A few minutes later, and most of the fish in the net had been packed, and the boxes had been moved into the hull storage area.
“Now, ‘ere come the fun part don’t it Stevie? Flotsam and jetsam!” Jimmy was putting on a voice that made him sound overly-excited.
“What?” Adam inquired, he now felt a little out of place standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“Treasure, lad!” this time Jimmy put on a pirate voice.
“He’s just taking the piss kid, we’ve got to throw all of the rubbish we picked up back overboard,” Stevie, the other man, butted in. Adam had mistaken a large tire at the centre of the net for a part of the net itself. He watched as Stevie and Jimmy both rolled it up to the side of the boat and pushed it overboard.
“I mean, we pick up a surprising amount of those, and you wonder... where do they come from?” Stevie spoke, and Jimmy and Adam laughed. The rest of the rubbish was mostly just wrappers and bits of seaweed, with a few tin cans here and there; all of it went straight overboard. Adam wondered why they didn’t just keep it all and recycle it, or even try and sell the tire, then he realised that the storage room on board the ship was only just big enough to hold all the ice-boxes that they brought along.
“Alright, now shake it a couple times,” Stevie said and pointed at the bit of net near Adam’s feet.
“Like ya’s gone for a wazz, eh?” Jimmy said and then laughed a little to himself. Stevie couldn’t quite hold back a smile, but Adam just stood there looking perplexed, having not understood.
“Shake the net, there’ll be bits stuck in the wiring,” Stevie said a little more sternly. The trio did so at the same time. Adam heard a loud clink just in front of him, as though some kind of heavy glassware had fallen onto the wooden deck. Curious, he crouched down and, after unravelling some netting for a few seconds, came across something unexpected.
“Heck?” Jimmy said as he moved closer to Adam and his discovery. Stevie did the same, but without a sound.
It was some sort of mask, it looked to be made of slightly cracked and worn white porcelain. It reminded Adam of a clown’s face, but it seemed more sorrowful rather than cheery or funny. Adam could even feel a hint of menace in the mask, as he stared into its empty eyes.
“Well that’s a find,” Stevie looked to Adam, then to the mask, then to Adam again. “You should keep it,” he suggested.
“I should?”
“Aye, ‘tis always nice to ‘ave a souvenir,” Jimmy uttered, almost to himself, and, picking up the mask, he offered it to Adam. Adam took it in his hands. It was quite heavy and it was still wet and cold from the sea. He turned it over to look into the back of the mask: the interior had a shiny bronze hue, in which Adam could see his own reflection. There was nothing on the back to hold the mask onto a wearer’s face, but two small brackets with L-shaped holes in them on either side of the rear of the mask suggested there may once have been. Adam held the mask up to his face. It was a little big for him, but he could still breathe through the mouth-hole and peer through the eye-holes at the same time.
“Down!” the skipper bellowed. Adam walked over to the console and dropped the net, and the two men left him at the back of the boat.

Adam held onto the mask for the rest of his time on the boat, except for when he brought up the net and he had to help Jimmy and Stevie pack the fish, where he laid it by the net control panel. The rest of the day’s fishing was uneventful; Adam was too distracted by his fascination with the mask to be able to hold a good conversation with Jimmy and Stevie, so they mostly left him alone. On the trip back to the pier Adam was told to bring the net up: Stevie informed Adam that shallower waters meant less fish and more junk.

Adam hid the mask under his clothes because, as he had expected, Morris was standing on the pier when the boat returned, waiting to greet him and see how he did. He wasn’t sure why he hid it, no doubt Jimmy or Stevie would tell the others about it later, but he just didn’t want anyone to have the chance to take it off of him.

“How did you get on, then?” Morris spoke to Adam immediately after he stepped off of the boat and onto the pier.
“Fine, thanks,” Adam nodded and put his arms by his side.
“Good to hear,” Morris looked please, “So you’ll be taking up the position?”
“Yes,” Adam tried to look keen. Morris took out a small wad of money and handed it to Adam, who initially thought to refuse the money, but then guiltily pocketed it.
“Seventy-five per trip, sound good?” Morris asked.
Adam nodded, surprised. He hadn’t expected to be paid today at all today, it supposedly being his training day and all. The jobs he was used to – running errands, only ever got him a ten or twenty; seventy-five was more than he had expected and then some. Then again, he thought to himself, it was a twelve-hour shift and he hadn’t eaten anything at all since before he started. His stomach rumbled, and the guilt he felt for taking the money faded to nothing. Adam had a thought to bring a sandwich along next time.
“Cheers, I’ll see you next weekend,” Adam said to Morris as he started to wander home. At the end of the pier Adam was met with a red four-by-four with a trailer attached. He looked back to see Jimmy and Stevie unloading the boxes of fish onto the pier, and he wondered for a moment if he should help them get the boxes to the car. After a moment’s thought, Adam concluded he was tired and hungry, and, since Morris had seemed okay with him leaving, he continued along his way.

Adam arrived home to see his parent’s sat at the dinner table, eating.
“Adam!” his mother exclaimed as he stumbled into the dining room.
“Hello,” Adam replied, exhausted.
“How was your first day? Are you hungry?”
“Good - and yes, I am,” Adam said, and he then went on to explain how he had not eaten for twelve hours.
“Sit down and eat,” Adam’s mother gestured to Adam’s usual seat.
“One second,” Adam said as he backed away from the kitchen through the living room, holding the mask behind his back. He ran upstairs and hid the mask underneath his pillow, before coming back down again. Adam’s father was engrossed in the living room TV, watching it through the open doorway whilst sat at the kitchen table. Adam delved into his meal without another word. Pork and vegetables took priority. The meal did not last long, but it was more than enough to sate his appetite.
When he had finished, some advertisements came on the television, freeing up his father.
“How was it then?” Adam’s father asked.
“It was fine – I’m tired, I’m going to go to my room,” Adam replied and hastily left the table, making his way out of the room.
“Hang on, son,” Adam’s father had a serious tone in his voice.
“What?” Adam said, turning to face his father and mother slowly.
“Adam, sit down,” Adam’s mother now spoke with a similar tone. Adam did so, the feeling of little butterflies floating about arose in the pit of his stomach, as was only natural with any teenager in a similar situation.
“What is it?” Adam enquired.
“Your mother and I have been thinking,” Adam’s father took a dreadful pause before continuing, “our paintings have been selling very well lately - and we’ve got all this extra money and nothing really to spend it on-”
“We’re going away, Adam,” his mother got to the point.
Adam sighed a sigh of relief.
“Where?” he asked.
“Well, that’s it – we don’t know. We’re just going to go on a little adventure; we’ll probably end up abroad,” Adam’s father continued.
“Well... h-how long for?” Adam had school for another six weeks before the holidays. Adam’s mother looked to his father and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Maybe... four-five months,” his father said.
“But I have school!” Adam protested: he liked school; whilst the other students weren’t exactly his friends, he didn’t mind them so much and they made him feel less alone.
“Oh, silly,” Adam’s mother laughed a little and then saw the look on Adam’s face, “just... just us: your father and I.”
Adam’s jaw dropped, and he stayed stunned in the chair for a while. He knew his parents were prone to bouts of irrationality and thoughtlessness towards him but to leave him alone for that amount of time was unprecedented, even for them.
“I ca- I can’t - seriously?” Adam managed to force out of his mouth.
“We thought you’d agree - we deserve some time away.”
“Yeah... but that’s - time away?” All Adam’s parents ever did was paint. He knew damn well that that’s what they’d spend their ‘time away’ doing too. “I’m-I’m going to my room.” Adam left the table and the room swiftly; his parents didn’t try to stop him.

“Unbelievable!” Adam was now in his room, with his door locked, speaking to May.
“It is a bit odd,” she replied, still maintaining her happy aura, “but maybe it’s a chance to do something.”
“It’s a chance for me to burn this house down, that’s what it is,” Adam ranted, keeping his voice low, “I’ll leave them with what they deserve: nothing!” Adam opened his top-drawer and pulled out two black six-sided dice and a pen and notepad.
“Calm down Adam,” she said, and then referring to his dice, “are you still doing that? I thought you stopped.” He set the notepad down on top of the chest of drawers and started shaking the dice in his hand. He rolled, the first dice showed a two, the second a six; he added one to his tally of twos and one to his tally of sixes on his notepad.
“Adam, we agreed a month ago you would stop,” May urged, her pleasant energy slowly fading.
The next roll got him another two, and a three. He marked the values on his tally chart. He continued the process until he had rolled each die ten times. In total, since he had started his routine of rolling on a Sunday evening almost two years ago, he now had: 289 ones, 245 twos, 301 threes, 280 fours, 291 fives and 274 sixes.
“Two-hundred-and-eighty fours,” May spoke, “exactly one sixth of the number of the total number of rolls.”
“Yeah,” Adam replied.
“Isn’t that what you’re looking for, Adam?”
“May - I’m not looking for anything. I just want to know-”
“You want to know what, Adam?” May nearly shouted; “Why you’re so alone?” she spouted, and Adam did not reply- surprised at May’s small outburst. May continued, almost angrily: “why you’ve only got me? Well - maybe if you didn’t spend every Sunday rolling di-”
“It’s about purpose.” Adam interrupted her.
There was a long pause, in which Adam slouched onto his bed and May just stood shaking her head in awe, before she started again.
“I know what you think it’s about,” May took a moment to try and compose herself, before hissing, “do you really think that a pair of dice can tell you anything about that?” May paused and waited for Adam’s response. Adam had milled this over with himself for a long time, he had thrown dice since before May had started appearing; May had simply inherited the sceptical part of his mind on this particular subject. About a month ago she had convinced him to stop doing it as he and she agreed it was bad for his mentality. Admittedly, he’d definitely begun to feel happier after the first couple of weeks, but then his anxieties returned: he worried about being and meaning nothing to anybody or anything in a world where everyone else seemed to be filling their role, like a joker in a pack of cards. He had only lasted a month because he knew how May felt about it. This news from his parents had acted as the last straw and driven him back to it. The dice made him feel a little better.
“I just like to watch the numbers get closer together, that’s all,” Adam muttered, finding himself feeling unsettled. He knew trying to explain would be useless and difficult, he had never succeeded previously with May, and he himself found it hard to understand the relevancy of the dice; it had started as a matter of intrigue, but it had developed into a habit. He wondered what it would even actually mean to him if one day, he had an equal number of rolls for each side of the dice. Adam believed the purpose of a dice was to have equal odds of landing on any of its six-sides, but he wasn’t absolutely sure what that meant: Adam sometimes imagined a world in which he rolled a die once and all of the numbers appeared, and he wondered if that was how things were supposed to be in a world where everything made sense. Adam noticed May had disappeared, and then that he was pondering over the same thing he always did on a Sunday evening and so he decided it was time to sleep - he had school the next day. Unknowingly, his mind had wandered from the mysterious face that lay concealed beneath his head and pillow: he did not think once more that night on the mask that had appeared from the depths of the ocean, and so he slept easy, dreaming of being at home as the ocean glided calmly past his bedroom window.