As she sidestepped the commotion, the old lady they had chatted with back at the terminal directed a disapproving glare at them. Such a nice-looking family, tearing itself apart like that. By that point, the ferry was casting off from the jetty and the crew members were at their posts, inviting passengers to head to the bar or the vast, blue-carpeted cabins. The skipper was putting out to sea, unconcerned by the dark, relentless winds blowing in from the ocean.
“Did you abandon her? Is that what happened? What did you do, Papa, tell me,” Gabriel begged, his voice cracking.
Valincourt tried to muster his strength and return to the room where his son was imploring him. He had never spoken to him of Antonio. The boy did not share his name; he did not appear anywhere. But now Gabriel had to know.
“You had a brother.”
A glimmer of joy passed over Gabriel’s face. With a regretful shake of his head, Valincourt made it disappear straightaway.
“A half brother. You never liked him,” he said, as if to console him.
“Where is he?”
Valincourt took another deep breath. The waters of the Gulf of Mexico were starting to lap at his heels, and a thin drizzle clung to his face, blurring his vision.
After their argument, Rosa had gone straight to the bar on the upper deck. On her own. In spite of her fury, she had entrusted both Antonio and Gabriel to Alexandre’s care. Maybe it was a punishment, or perhaps she was putting his sense of duty to the test. Duty. Nobody was more attuned to this quality than Alexandre Valincourt.
The three of them were all together on the lower deck. The boys played as Alexandre sat pensively in his deck chair. A violent gust of wind suddenly set a halyard flapping against the hull of the ferry. There was a storm brewing. While the weather forecasts might not have expected the hurricane to hit for another day or two, the swell told a different story. As soon as the first drops fell, the deck became slippery and the people started heading below. Alexandre stood up: it was time to get the children inside. The waves were crashing against the rail and the ferry was starting to pitch more and more dramatically.
Seconds later thick, black clouds completely obscured the afternoon sun, and the heavens opened.
Cries of panic started spreading around the boat. Part of Alexandre’s jacket had gotten stuck in the deck chair and he tugged at it impatiently, blindly resisting the sensible option of leaving it behind. On his feet but off balance, he bellowed at the children, who couldn’t have been more than three yards away. Finally Alexandre managed to free the garment. He looked up to see Gabriel edging toward him uncertainly, holding out his arms to keep steady. A sudden jolt shook the boat. As Gabriel was flung forward, Attila, terrified, trampled over him to reach the safety of Alexandre’s arms. Lying flat on his face, Gabriel was now sliding toward the edge of the deck, drenched by the water lashing against the boat. His eyes were round with horror and when he tried to call out, he swallowed his first mouthful of water. A shot of adrenaline coursed through Alexandre, who raced toward his son and clung on to his sweater in one hand. Attila, really panicking now, was trying to clamber up his stepfather’s body. When he reached Alexandre’s torso, the boy started hindering his movements, causing Gabriel’s sweater to slip out of his grip. In that moment, Alexandre was overcome by a cold fury that wormed its way through his fear. An unbelievable opportunity was presenting itself: the chance to do away with the little brat once and for all, that child who took such pleasure in torturing his son. Perhaps this storm would solve everything.
In any event, if he were to strengthen his grip and secure Gabriel, Alexandre would need to get Attila off him. So he did.
In the same way you detach a crab that’s pinching you, Alexandre coldly pried away the boy’s arm, dislodging him in the process. The force made Antonio’s hands slip apart, and the boy was sent flying overboard. He thrashed his arms and legs to find something to cling on to, but his cries were lost in the waves and he fell without an echo.
Alexandre clasped Gabriel against him, then leaned over the railing. Attila had disappeared. Alexandre blinked as the loudspeakers spat out inaudible instructions. A waterway on the poop deck had split open and the hold was being flooded by a continual flow from the sea, and a nauseating stench of diesel was choking the air. Alexandre stroked Gabriel’s hair and turned toward the inside of the boat. The sight of Rosa rooted him to the spot.
She was standing at the entrance to the cabins, her face a mask of stunned, petrified distress. A split second later, the mask slipped to reveal scorn, pure hatred. She threw down her bag and sprinted for a life belt, grabbing it, and—without a moment’s hesitation—hurling herself into the inky water to save her son. Alexandre could have done nothing to catch her. He heard a man’s voice booming out to stop the woman, but it wasn’t his own. It belonged to someone else, a sailor who was standing just behind him. The sailor had been there for a few moments already, and he would never forget what he had seen.
“During the shipwreck, your half brother fell in the water. Your mother dived in to save him, but she drowned. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t let go of you and dive in after her.”
Rosa, swallowed up by the sea. Rosa, who had not known why, who had not understood. Rosa, who had taken him for a monster. Rosa, drowned. And with her drowned any hope of a happy life for Alexandre and his son. He had never managed to forgive himself. He had not been able to
