The Rebellious Tide Read online

  The two young men collapsed onto a mattress of white sheets bunched together on the floor. Their bodies rocked to the rhythm of the ship as it swayed against the waves. Nikos exhaled so violently when he came, it was as if his lungs were emptied of everything that had once suffocated him.

  They lay on sheets that were damp with sweat, tangled in each other’s limbs. Nikos kissed Sebastien’s shoulder and held him tightly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  “Me, too,” Sebastien said, shifting his body so their foreheads touched. “That is, ever since I learned you were just pretending to be an arrogant prick.”

  Nikos responded with a playful shove.

  “Have you always liked men?” Sebastien asked.

  A faint shadow fell over his face. “I’m not supposed to. Love between men isn’t understood where I come from. People say it’s getting better in Greece, but it doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  “Your family doesn’t know?”

  Nikos gave him a sardonic look. “My father took me to a whorehouse when I was fifteen. He told me it was time to become a man. It’s a common thing for fathers to do in my village. Nothing would bring them more shame than to see their sons do what we just did.”

  “You’re just going to hide it for your whole life?”

  “I’m used to hiding. It won’t be so bad. I love women, too. I’ll find a wife one day, settle down. Make my family happy.”

  Sebastien felt the sadness that had crept into Nikos’s eyes. He kissed him. “Do what makes you happy. Don’t worry about them. Your father sounds like an asshole.”

  Nikos laughed, and he looked beautiful. Eyes squinted. Lines creased into his cheeks. Lips pulled over teeth. Sebastien wanted him to look that way forever.

  “You’re not wrong about that. At least I don’t have to see him much anymore. That’s what drew me to the sea. I could get far away from him and my village, where it’s so dry you can’t even have a meal outside without it getting covered in dust. He didn’t think I would make it on my own.”

  “Look at you. You command an entire security team for a ship of three thousand people. You proved him wrong.”

  His face flushed. “With a little help, of course. I met Kostas when I was just a deck cadet. I guess he saw something in me. I wouldn’t have moved up the ranks as quickly as I did without him.”

  “It helps to have friends in high places,” Sebastien said. He hoped the tensing of his muscles went unnoticed. “That dusty old village is far away. You can be yourself here.”

  Nikos’s eyebrows pulled toward the bridge of his nose. “I know the Glacier might seem like a carefree utopia in the crew bar. Be who you want to be. Love who you want to love. I wish it were true.” His gaze drifted past Sebastien’s shoulder. “It’s different in the officers’ circle. The commanders want the staff and crew to feel safe, but the truth is they’re disgusted by people like us. They think it’s a disease that afflicts the weak and immoral. A corruption of character. I’d lose my rank if they knew.”

  Sebastien’s skin went warm. He had no doubt in his mind who was cultivating this belief.

  “What about you?” Nikos said as he combed his fingers through Sebastien’s hair, tucking a few tangles behind his left ear. He touched the black metal stud that was pierced through the earlobe. “Have you ever been in love with a man?”

  “Sure, but I love easily. It’s a character flaw. I’ve been in love with women, too. One woman, to be exact. It ended not long ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” He paused in thought. “It was doomed from the beginning. I realized one day that I had used her. I needed to feel redeemed, and she gave that to me. But she used me, too.”

  “Love is complicated.”

  Sebastien ran his fingers along Nikos’s chest. Below his right shoulder was a circular tattoo with concentric rings. It had caught his eye the other morning in the locker room shower. Now, he could take a closer look. “Tell me about this.”

  “It’s the shield of Achilles, the one he used during his famous fight with Hector of Troy. Look,” Nikos said, pointing to the centre ring. “This is the earth, surrounded by the sun and moon. The edge of this ring is the sea. The outer rings are filled with people. Here’s a wedding. On the other side is an army attacking a city. This is a king, and here’s a farmer. It represents the balance of civilization. Peace. War. Rich. Poor. For there to be good, there must also be bad. Achilles was always my favourite hero from the mythologies.”

  “Wasn’t he a bloodthirsty killer?”

  “It was ancient times. You either killed or were killed. And it was war! If it weren’t for Achilles, the Greeks wouldn’t have defeated the deceitful Trojans.”

  “I think the big wooden horse deserves some of the credit.” Sebastien flashed him a cocky smile.

  “Horse or no horse, Achilles would have found a way into the city.”

  “If you’re Achilles, does that make me your legendary lover, Patroclus?”

  Nikos pulled him closer until they could feel the rise and fall of each other’s breathing. “You are my Patroclus.”

  “Hopefully I don’t die so soon in battle like he did. Then you wouldn’t have to avenge my death by killing Hector.”

  “In our version, I would rescue you. Hector would still die in the end, though.”

  “And what’s your weakness — your Achilles heel?”

  “You are,” Nikos said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Sebastien’s lips. “You’re my weakness.”

  “And this can be our house.” Sebastien looked up at the vaulted ceiling above them and realized for the first time it was painted like a starlit sky. “The House of the Heel.”

  NINE

  Sirens

  The island of Santorini is shaped like a crescent moon or a human fetus, depending on whom you ask. Nestled in the curve is a smaller island that slopes upward into a volcanic cone.

  The island was whole, once. Some even say it was a flourishing nation that inspired the legend of Atlantis. When it erupted thousands of years ago, the centre collapsed into the sea. Only the eastern caldera and a scattering of fragments remain.

  Today, Santorini is the picture of Greece sought after by every traveller. Villages of whitewashed walls and blue domes cling to the side of the caldera high above the water. Every patio is filled with dreamers and lovers as the sun sets fire to the sky before dipping behind the horizon.

  It was here Sebastien took a sip of his coffee, bitter and foamy on top, and gazed out over the edge of the restaurant balcony to the endless sea. The Glacier looked like a toy boat in a bathtub, docked far below near the base of the caldera. Cruise ships sailed into the harbour throughout summer, each releasing its infestation of travellers on the island. They swarmed the winding streets, consuming everything in sight, before sailing away to the next victim. The cycle repeated itself until winter.

  “It’s been only two days since Athens, and it already feels like people are forgetting about Dominic.” Diya wore round sunglasses and a sweater the colour of cilantro. She was always cold despite the heat. Sebastien and Ilya fanned themselves with paper menus as they roasted beneath the afternoon sun. “This can’t just be the end of it, can it?”

  Sebastien recalled what Rosa had said to him the day Dominic disembarked. “We didn’t get what we wanted, but I think it made a difference. It woke people up.”

  “I’ve never seen Kostas like that before. It looked like his face was going to erupt.” Diya looked troubled as she sipped tea from a white cup. “And the way Giorgos treated Contessa …”

  “What do you mean?” Sebastien asked. “There was so much going on, I wasn’t paying attention to him.”

  “Right before the electricity was shut down, he went over and grabbed her by the arm. Hard. He tried pulling her to her feet, but she resisted. He looked furious. There was so much noise and chaos, I don’t think a lot of people noticed. But I saw what happened.” Diya
leaned forward, wrapping her arms around herself. “She must have known she’d be in trouble for getting involved with the protest. I admire her. She just wanted to help. But I’m scared of what she might be facing behind closed doors.”

  A waiter arrived to deliver plates filled with sundried octopus and tzatziki drizzled with olive oil. Sebastien and Diya expected Ilya to dig in ravenously, but he just stared at the food. The normally sunny fitness trainer had had an absent look in his eyes since the morning.

  “What’s going on with you?” Sebastien asked.

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Diya added. “You’re acting like your brain has been hijacked by aliens.”

  Ilya’s eyes darted between them as though he’d just woken up from a trance. “What? Oh. I’m fine.” He forced a gravelly laugh, but it was clear Sebastien and Diya weren’t convinced. With a deep breath, he sat back and let his arms hang over the side of his chair. “I just … Something happened last night that’s been bothering me.”

  “Go on,” Sebastien said as he speared a tentacle with his fork.

  “It was after my shift last night. I was in the crew bar with Cory. You know, my British dancer friend. It was quieter than usual, I guess, because the mood has been different since the Giorgos incident at the party. Most of the people there were malákas, and they were sailor-wasted. It was like a sad little party for insecure boys in white suits.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t there,” Diya said. “The last thing I need right now is to be smothered by officers.”

  “They were being obnoxious, but we just ignored them. Cory and I were minding our business when two of them came up to us. One of them said, ‘You two faggots. Nobody wants to see that. This isn’t Mykonos.’ Then they just laughed and walked away.”

  Diya was so shocked that she spilled her tea onto the plate in front of her. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Ilya looked sombre. “I was too stunned to do anything. I wanted to speak, but no words came out. I wanted to bash in his teeth, but I couldn’t move. My whole body froze, like those stupid statues on the ship. Cory and I just sat there, helpless. I thought I would never have to feel that way again when I moved to the Glacier. I thought I had left that feeling behind in Ukraine.”

  “How bad was it there?” Sebastien asked, unsure if he was prepared for the answer.

  “Bad.” There was something woeful in the way Ilya squinted his eyes as he looked beyond the balcony’s edge. It was a quality Sebastien wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I learned how to fit in, how to play the part so people would leave me alone, but that wasn’t my best friend’s style. He wasn’t one to hide in the shadows.

  “Misha believed in the good of people. He knew how to look past the hatred and the violence to see the fear underneath. ‘They hate us because they fear us,’ he used to say to me. ‘They fear us because they don’t know us. So, we make them know us.’ He would always say that last line with a big stupid grin.” Ilya smiled, but the sadness had settled across the rest of his face. “Misha had a way of making complicated things seem simple. He died four years ago.”

  “What happened?” Sebastien asked after a short silence.

  “It was late in Kiev. We shared a flat back then, and we were walking home from our favourite club. I still remember exactly how he looked that night. His messy hair was tied back in a ‘baby bun,’ as he called it. He wore the yellow T-shirt I had given him for his birthday. It said ‘Misha for Mayor’ across the front. I spray-painted it myself.

  “We were drunk and laughing when a group of men stopped us. I don’t know how many there were. I only remember what one of them looked like. He had a shaved head, but his jaw was covered in a trimmed beard. He was ugly except for his eyes. They sparkled like blue gems. That man asked us if we were fags. The word came out of his mouth so easily, just like it did last night in the crew bar.

  “Misha wasn’t afraid of them. He had been through this before. He looked at the ugly man’s face and said, ‘Before you waste your time, you should know you’re not my type.’” Ilya laughed at the memory, rubbing his eyes. “Misha was punched in the face. I was punched in the gut. Those men didn’t want us dead. They just wanted to scare us. Perhaps it made them feel stronger than they really were. Misha fell, and the back of his head hit a brick wall. They ran when they saw the blood. They ran like frightened children.”

  Sebastien felt his skin go cold as he listened to Ilya’s story. He could feel his heartbeat slow until it was barely detectable.

  “Misha used to say, ‘It’s easier to hate someone when they don’t have a face. We need to show the people our faces.’ When I wanted to move as far away from Ukraine as I could get, he was the only reason I stayed. ‘This country isn’t going to change if people like us run away,’ he said to me. ‘We need to stay, and we need to fight.’

  “I spent hours at the police station that night. I answered all their questions. I knew after ten minutes that they weren’t going to do a thing. Justice wasn’t meant for people like us.

  “I didn’t know what to do with myself as the months went by. Life was starting to return to something that resembled normal, until winter came. I was walking through the Old Town when something caught my eye through a window. It was a bearded man with a shaved head. Even from the other side of the window, I could see the blue in his eyes sparkle.

  “I stood there, frozen, as the snow fell around me. The ugly man poured beer from behind the bar. I wanted so badly to step inside that room, but I resisted. ‘Keep walking,’ I could hear Misha say.

  “But I found my way to that window the next evening, and the next. Every evening, the same glowing window, the same bearded man. I would stand outside for a few minutes before circling the block and returning. The routine would last an hour or two, but in the end I would go home.

  “The night before Christmas Eve I stood and waited. I didn’t even feel the cold. I watched as people left the bar until it was empty. The man was wiping down the counters. He waved goodbye to the waitress as she left for the night. He put on a coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

  “I followed him down a narrow alley. He had no idea I was behind him. I waited until we reached a small courtyard where the snow on the ground was untouched. ‘Merry Christmas,’ I said. There was a lantern above us, and the light made the man’s skin look yellow. He just looked at me, then he said, ‘How’s your friend?’”

  Their grim faces contrasted with the bright Santorini setting around them. They could feel the chill of the Ukrainian winter, hear the buzz of the lantern above.

  “I lost control,” Ilya said. “I knocked him to the ground and couldn’t stop punching. I remember tears freezing to my eyelashes as my fists lashed out, over and over and over again. I hated the look of his sick smile, so I hit his mouth until it was bloody and broken. I had him pinned against the floor. He was helpless. I could see he was trying to say something, so I stopped when my arms were tired. He couldn’t speak properly by then, but I think he was trying to say they didn’t mean to kill him.”

  Ilya buried his face in his hands. His body trembled.

  “I wanted to end it so badly. My hands were itching to wrap around his throat, to watch the life fade from his eyes. I didn’t feel guilty or scared. My mind was made. The only thing that stopped me was Misha. I knew he would have been so disappointed in me. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  “You let him go?” Sebastien asked.

  “I walked away and went straight home. Packed my bags. Took a train to Bratislava, then Vienna, then Zurich. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stop moving. I ended up in Copenhagen. Two months later I boarded the Glacier. It sailed the Baltic back then.”

  Sebastien and Diya moved their chairs to either side of Ilya. The other tables on the patio stole glances at the three of them as they held each other.

  “I like to think that Misha’s inside of me,” Ilya went on. “That he instilled some of his goodness. I try to see th
e world the way Misha did. It felt easier to do on the ship. Everyone was allowed to be who they were, to love who they wanted. I didn’t think I’d experience that kind of hatred again until last night in the crew bar.”

  “Don’t let a couple malákas take anything away from you,” Sebastien said, squeezing Ilya’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than that. The three of us together are even stronger.”

  Sebastien could see that Ilya wasn’t convinced, despite the forced smile, and he understood. He wanted to feel reassured himself, but something had changed on board the Glacier. He couldn’t quite place it, but it felt insidious.

  The spray of the sea wet their faces as the tender ferried them away from the caldera. The Glacier loomed ahead like an island of its own.

  Something felt amiss as soon as they stepped through the security gates. People were clustered together along Styx, looking intently at the walls. There were more posters, this time printed on dark red paper. They were posted along the corridor like emergency lights.

  The message was in bold black letters.

  Staff & Crew:

  Due to recent misconduct, a new morality code will take effect immediately.

  The following improprieties are no longer tolerated:

  Drunkenness

  Insubordination

  Offensive sexual behaviour

  Violations may lead to immediate dismissal.

  Regards, Your Commanding Officers

  Sebastien was twenty-five when they met.

  Jérôme St-Germain had just moved back to Petit Géant after several years in Montréal. The people in town remembered him being a bookish boy, peculiar and reserved. They were surprised to see him return as an attractive young man with easy charm and a confident style. The town was happy to welcome an eligible bachelor.