A Viking Ship and Near Death in Chile
By: Christine Neruda
Tags: Short Story, Life Lessons, Chile, Cheating, Near Death Experiences

Photo by zhao chen on Unsplash

There is a Viking ship on the Chilean coast that holds the coolest bar in town. In front lies a single orange quartz brightened by an artificial light. It’s the only way you know you’re in the right place after a few shots of Pisco. I run in and head towards the counter requesting a Pico Sour. The whole bar laughs at me. “What?” I say, unsure of whether my American accent made a mess of ordering. Karl looks at me with his amused blue eyes, “You just ordered a small penis.”

I cannot recall all the moments that transpired after my fifth Pisco Sour, but I do remember how crisp the air felt and the warmth of Karl’s hand in mine. I remember roaming through the crowded bar, meeting new people, and wondering how lucky I was to be able to join an archaeological dig in the middle of South America while being surrounded by the most fascinating assortment of people. My summer so far is nothing but adventure and it helps alleviate the pain of living in my real life back home. And Karl? Well he helps too.

Karl pats my shoulder and turns to the bartender, his German accent loud and determined, “Un Pisco Sour senior, para ella loca!” (One Pisco Sour sir, for the crazy girl!) We join our friends who give me a high five for my silly pico sour request and I yell, “Pico Sours for all!” With endless laughter we continue to dance well into that Chilean night.

The ambience of the Viking bar is formidable at 3am, but it does nothing to scare away my cheerful disposition. I drag Karl outside with shaky legs, shoeless on one foot, and head straight for the ocean. On my drunken way, I am intent to understand the overwhelming brightness of the moon as I gaze out into the sea. Likewise, the lack of city lights make the Milky Way considerably noticeable and I yearned to touch it even if I have to overcome the ocean to reach it.

And so the seaside called and I ran to its edge. I dipped my foot into the waves, slowly first, but increasingly excited, I go deeper, and look out into its vastness. There’s a moment of fear that hits you when you stand adrift in the ocean during the wee hours of night. I thought about sharks, and all matters of sea monsters that could swallow me whole without my knowing it. We were close enough to the Amazon, after all, what if there were Piranhas?

As if on cue, a strong tug pulled at my legs and I was dragged without warning into a liquid force. I let go of Karl’s hand despite all attempts to grasp it, caught by surprise that the waves could be so fierce. I was under quickly and sadly could no longer see the moon nor the stars. All I feel is darkness and silence.

I don’t know how much time has passed. It is quiet and I sense no need to fight. In fact, peace overcomes me and I like it. The water is cold, but my brain refuses to feel it. And despite the obvious danger, I feel safe here, floating — thinking. This is the most clarity I’ve had in ages.

You see, I came to Chile to explore a career interest in archaeology, or that’s what I led everybody to believe. In actuality I wanted to run away. Just two months before, my fiancé cheated on me. He was everything I wanted in life, a little bit of a bad boy, as smart as a Jeopardy player, an artist, and the tall dark handsome type. We spent 9 years together. Voyaged through the challenges of youth into our adulthood: from high school to college, being as poor as twenty year olds can be, fluctuating between work and career disappointments, the death of my grandparents, his father’s declining health, my own career climb to success, his perceived failure as an artist, our eight-year old son.

Before I left for Chile, he asked me to forgive him and take him back. I loved him so much that I wanted to stay, but needed time to think about it. After all, it seems we seesawed naturally through life and I never once doubted before that this man could be my rock forever, so I couldn’t let him go that easily. I just needed a time out.

Yet, the trip to Chile brought up so many questions. What happens when your rock breaks down to shifting sand, and like archaeology itself, exists only as a tool to mark time? That is what we’ve become — something that made time pass me by and his time passed with someone else. How can he expect me to overcome the feelings of mistrust and failure in myself and in the world I promised my son. I wanted our son to grow up with two loving parents, who also loved each other, an example my own parents never gave me. But it could never be. Now in the disaster he’s made of our lives, I am older, and weary, and drowning. And the answer is so clear.

And just then I realize — I really am drowning!

I can hear the whoosh of water whipping against my ears. As if time suddenly moved in fast forward, I am acutely aware of danger and the hammering of my heart. There’s a strange intensity to this awareness of death. People have described it as a time in which life passes before your eyes, but in my case, time slows and quickens in incongruent pacing and my mind is occupied with millions of thoughts found within a pinpoint of a second. In my alertness, I am gripped by an overpowering panic, swallowing likely unsanitary water, and wishing to hell all the Pisco and Pico Sours of the world. I know I have a choice. I can swim back to the beach or I can follow the peace I felt just moments ago well into eternity.

“Christine! Christine” The German accent isn’t really attractive in moments like this. “Chris-tiiiiiiiine!” The wave slams me into something hard and I scream from the pain permeating through my whole right arm. “Christine!” I wish Karl would just shut up for a moment so I could catch my bearings. As I attempt to plant my legs down towards the ground, it suddenly hits me. Somehow the waves carried me back onto the shore and I could feel the sand scraping my body with every back and forth of the water. Feeling sluggish with every movement, I find relief in Karl’s warm arms as he pull me away from the sea. It seems like an eternity but I weakly scramble up, and safely back onto the beach.

We sit there for some time shivering and catching our breaths. “Are you alright?” he asked. I just looked at him, perplexed about what just happened, but sure that I will never go back to my fiancé with this new shot at life. I say, “I think I lost my other shoe.”