Rooms By The Sea

1

I am a man living in a room by the sea. The room is my island.

My room is quite simple. It seems I don’t need too much stuff in my daily life. A small portrait of my mama with a plain golden frame. A red sofa, so incongruent with the green carpet, seems that it has been here since I lived in this house. On the chest, a black-and-white television with a bad signal. There is often a classic show I like to call "Greyish Snowflakes" on its screen. I have one thousand secrets and one thousand daydreams. No one knows what they are, even I forgot some of them. I place them in the coffee cup, on the floor, or next to the potted plants. Everywhere. Sometimes, my dream and I fall onto the sofa together. I stare at the TV, stroking it like a kitten.

Being at sea – fishing, rowing, just feeling everything, the cold, the heat. I don’t think I am a fisherman at all. Maybe I am a nine-to-five traveller. When I row on the sea, I can often see other boats. We greet, chat, sometimes go fishing together. There are many people at sea. Innumerable. Most of them are interesting. I like to get along with them. But my habit is that I will definitely return to my room every night. I have heard there is a boat-party and people light their flashlights and drink beers the whole night. I hate that kind of amusement. I must come back to my room.

The daytime at sea is always the same. It can be very long, or very short. But the night at sea is three years long.

Sunset before the night is often the noisiest time. What a magnificent, splendid and glorious scene! Too many people watch it or don't really watch it. But they linger, enchanted, talk a lot. At this time, I choose to return my room, and no one will find that I have left.

Everything gets quiet, falling into the night. The dark night is like thick ink and you will fall into it unconsciously. I am a little afraid of the night. At that time I feel separated from the whole world and all mankind. But it is this fear that gives me a sense of security and belonging. Because, in that time, I become one with the night.

Only when the sky is dark enough can I see the stars. Reach out to catch the cluster of specks of light. It seems to be born on my palm. The gentle tide gradually rises. It slips into the door, covers the floor, flows into the windows. I am suspended by the caress of the sea. When I wake up again, the tide has receded. I open the door and sweep away the remaining seawater in the corner. Look back, mama’s portrait is creased and grayed by the soak in the sea water. Only the golden frame still shines as always, with some tiny salt granules on it.

2

She just arrived on that very day.

Already, her face has begun to blur in my mind. What I can remember is just her wavy brown hair, and her eyes, which are exceptionally bright in the early light of dawn.

I never took the initiative to approach other rooms before. I have seen some of them when I sailed far away. In my eyes, they are only small white spots. Their doors are always closed, even if I get to the door, it won't open for me. Because I will be the same.

Close the door and no one will judge how tedious my kingdom is. Sometimes I am desperate to slam the door, and sometimes I can still sleep sweetly even when there is a storm outside. On the day I inadvertently opened the door, she came.

She is my first exception.

She walked straight in and sat on my red sofa, stretched out as if she had been exhausted before. In amazement, I stared at her series of actions. My words are like fish bones in my throat. I can’t say it, but I can’t swallow it either.

“So this is here?”

“……”

“Well, it is here. Not bad. I like it.” Is she talking to herself? But this free girl doesn't bother me. She doesn’t care about my silence, she just smiles.

“Come, sit on the sofa. How about I tell you the story of how I came over? Huh, …it’s a long journey…”

Oh, how could she take it for granted that this is her sofa? Murmuring in my mind, I still walked over and sat next to her. I suddenly felt like a happy puppet. It seems that I have been waiting for her to arrive and manipulate my wires.

She told me how she crossed a whole ocean. She met many other rowing people and heard their stories along the way. She said that she had seen a huge whale jumping out of the sea on the way and that was the most spectacular sight she had seen on this journey. She said she has been watching my room for a long time. At dusk, there is always a gentle pink glow. She said she has imagined what it would look like, an infinite number of times. And when she finally set foot here, she thought she would like it although she never guessed correctly at all.

Nightfall. The clouds started eating the moon. Nibble by nibble.

She is still talking. I can't control the rise of the corners of my mouth. She is really like the princess in Arabian Nights who is good at telling stories. I know I am smiling. The light of the moon disappeared. Her voice became the light.

I am very willing to listen to her story. When she talks about her room, I can imagine how it looks. I also seem to have crossed a whole ocean to be in her room. Time does not know how long it has passed. I don’t know, either. Just heard that she paused, then she whispered in my ear:

“Okay, I am a little bit tired. Can you tell me something about you?”

“Ah…there is no story I can tell you.” I said. For a moment her corners of the mouth dropped.

“However, perhaps I can tell you the story of my fish, the sea was drowning in my house that day. Or I can tell you where this red sofa comes from if I can figure it out first. These boring stories…they are the only stories I have.” I whispered in my heart.

I didn’t say anything to her after all. When I looked up again, there was the tranquil smile on her face as usual.

A few days later, she told me, ”I am going to leave.” It’s that smile.

“Okay. Alright. I mean, good. Then…bye.” I said. “Let me close the door for you.”

However, I did not close the door. I just stared at her back, her brown long hair turned into a small spot, until I couldn’t see the little one any more. She did not look back once.

The light was bright at this point, cut into a regular geometry by the door frame. I stand at the end of the light, barefoot. Then drag my toe tip back and forth at the intersection of light and shadow. Tentatively.

3

The sun shines into the room again. I wake up from a deep and dreamless slumber.

“Today is a nice day.” I mutter.

The sunshine is always very dry at one or two o’clock in the afternoon. It’s too bright to make me drowsy again. Some tiny dust is floating in the air. Like dancing, like flying.

I am going out, ready to do what a man living on the sea usually does. But this time I decide not to close the door.