The Light Pirate

by Lily Brooks-Dalton

The rule of this household is that Wanda occupies its center. She is their sun, and in return for their venerations she gifts them with a levity they would have otherwise forgotten is possible.

Is it possible he can take these ghosts with him? That morning is something he must keep, however sharp or bitter it feels to carry. He must keep it at all costs.

It was just the two of them now. And hadn’t she wanted some version of this? It was shameful to realize it. She’d never imagined it would feel so hollow.

There are too many losses to grieve: Phyllis, Blackbeard, Lucas, Kirby, the Rudder she knew as a child, Frida and Flip, who she never even got a chance to meet. And now Bird Dog, this woman whom she is too broken to join. She understands that it isn’t enough to have made it home. It isn’t enough to be alive after all these years. There is a deficit here that she is unable to reconcile. Life costs more than it gives. For the first time in a long time, she cries—big, choking sobs—the whole time worrying about her tears. She needs that moisture for other things, she tells herself, this is a waste, an extravagance, a careless use of precious resources. But even so, she cries, and even so, the price of these tears is tangible, exacting, steep.

She’s been working so hard to silence her mind as it brims with thoughts of Bird Dog that she’s silenced everything else, too.

She wonders what will happen to the lights when she dies. They are hers and she is theirs—but belonging slips in and out like a tide.

The elderly die, and the old ways die with them. The young are born, and fresh traditions begin. One of the children here sees through the darkest nights as if it were day. Another can hold her breath underwater for a long, long time. Another has learned to hear the fish chattering beneath the waves. They do not call these gifts magic and they do not call them science. They call them what they are: change.

There is more than one kind of legacy.

Wanda can’t see her face, but she can feel the young fisherwoman’s longing—to be part of this awareness that is deeper than she can imagine. And her fear—of what it might mean to join.