STORIES FROM
SHUNDERLAND

Nothing is more deceptive than the sea. Rudolph hates it. It can be calm on the surface, but it will always have secret depths. In a single hour it turns into an army of mountains, marching land-ward.

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For now it sleeps as smooth as glass. Plates of ice dot the shore like fish scales. Farther out, icebergs float, as big as yachts in the dusk of the evening. They may as well be monsters. By spring they’re just water, they come from the sea and to the sea they return - usually sometime in April.

 

If you live in Yellow Sail, you live off the sea. There's no getting around it. Rudolph worked at the Fleming Seafood Processing and Distribution Center at the north end of the wharf. It’s a nine-minute bike ride, downhill from his apartment and along the docks. At the end of the day he punches the clock, puts his coat on and makes the bike ride back. It takes longer uphill.

 

Coming or going, his tires made the same thumping pattern on the planks of the wharf, and his coat puffed out, working against him. He hated his coat. It was bland green-gray, which is really no color at all. The hood was too big and the drawstrings that cinched it shut were gone, so it flew off when he rode. The elastic in the right cuff was looser than the other, and that sleeve constantly fell over his hand.

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He would have bought a new one, but that’s not what his money was for.

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Rudolph veered off of the wharf, onto the smooth sound of pavement and coasted to a stop in front of the jewelry store. He kicked his stand down and left his bike standing in front of the window with Mr. Hadley’s name painted in white. He shook the cold out of his jacket, then entered. The bell jingled.

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He hated, too. The first time he came to the shop was on a cold winter’s day. The heat inside melted him. His eyes watered. His nose ran. His ears blew scalding heat and his head grew dizzy. Then there were the bright lights and the glass cases full of diamonds, reflecting everything back at him a hundred-fold.

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He had wanted to go back out and freeze before he lost his form - but that stupid bell. It had already said, “hey, look what we have here.” It had laughed at him. 

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But Mr. Hadley did not. He was a man as wise as his years. He had looked up from where he stood behind the counter, as if waiting for him. He threw a rag on his shoulder and said, “What’s her name, son?”

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Rudolph wasn't prepared, but he blurted, "her name is Cassidy and she’s the prettiest girl in Shunderland."

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He passed that bell a hundred times since and he still hates it. There’s just no way around it. He pushed through into the brightness of the store.​ Mr. Hadley straightened out his spine and stood taller, like an actor getting in to roll.

 

“Good evening, Rudy.”

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“Can I see it?”

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“Of course.” Mr. Hadley put down a pad he was writing on and limped the length of the display case - as smooth as the sea, only transparent, revealing all of its treasures. “I said anytime, didn’t I?”

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Mr. Hadley unlocked the glass panel at the end and pulled away a black cloth that hid a felt box. He pulled the box out and set it on the glass where it seemed to float impossibly - the odd little vessel it was. He gently opened the box in Rudy’s direction, a mere habit of showmanship.

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Rudolph loved it. The white gold and the diamonds all but burst from the black pillowy folds that held it. It was as perfect as the day he first saw it. Without diverting his eyes he dug into his pocket, pulled out some cash and handed it across the counter.

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Hadley took it. “You know, you don’t have to visit it, you can take it. I trust you for it, Rudy.”

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“I can’t,” Rudolph said. “Not until it’s completely hers.”

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Mr. Hadley cleared his throat. “There are others, every bit as suitable for her, and your wallet.”

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Rudolph lifted his head.

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Mr. Hadley shrunk back. He had uttered an offense. “I only mean… Well, life is short, you know, and some things are more important than others. If you’d only take it, or pick another, you could have married Cassidy yesterday.”

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“There are no others,” Rudolph said. His gaze lowered again. “Besides, the weather was awful yesterday.”

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Mr. Hadly snapped the box shut unexpectedly. “You're a romantic, Rudy. But of course, you are, you’re still young.” He put the ring box away and covered it with the shroud to hide it from others who might be capable of paying in full. “I was romantic once,” he said. He limped his way back down the display case. “I paid for Vera’s ring by getting a second job - this job, right here, this shop.”

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When he reached his pad and looked up, Rudolph was already at the door. The chime sounded.

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“You can tell me about it someday, Mr. Hadley, but I have to go. I don’t want anyone to see my bike here.”