( A Response Piece to James Joyces ‘Eveline’ )

Frank sat by the window, looking out through the frost in the glass. The early morning was still in full bloom as the dew drops glistened on the tufts of grass, that lined the street. He had always risen before sun, ever since his days on the ship. Captain always expected all hands on deck and every man groomed and presentable. So he sat shining his boots, as the crackle of the dying embers in the fire, filled the room. Returning from abroad to see his long forgotten home was something he needed to do before he could begin his new life in Buenos Ayres. The streets were just as he remembered, cobbled, broken and cold! Not like it was when he travelled the world, on the decks of many, many ships. Far off places with hot climates, exotic plants, and wild animals. The many ports and cities had coloured the view in which he seen the world.

Still there was no place quite like home, his real home. There was no space for another in the small flat he had grown up in, so he lodged with an old friend he met upon the seas. His mother, still strong as ever, ruling the roost and making sure the family home was well kept. Many years before, he received a letter from his sister, about his father. A hopeless drunken abuser who had tortured him in his younger years, forcing him to run towards a life on the high seas. One night his father had come home and raided their  belongings, taking his sisters few jewels and expensive things, then he disappeared. Frank had always felt it for the best but he knew it deeply hurt his mother who lost someone she had once loved. It was nice to be among his family once again and share his songs and stories from his travels, his younger sisters had grown into headstrong young women who were not fooled by local drunken scoundrels.

The house was occupied by a few different sailors, all home to see their families but his old friend had been here for many years. A popular man among the locals , often he was visited by many different people. That’s where Frank had met Eveline for the first time, he was outside waiting in the cold for his sister when he seen her. She was a shuffling up towards him, lost in her own thoughts, looking down when she suddenly locked eyes with him and a cute wry smile snook across her face. Some days later he wandered into the kitchen, to find her sitting quietly over a cup of tea, so he asked to join her. She was beautiful, soft spoken and considerate, every word was chosen carefully and wisely. He told her stories about the sea, and about the new life he planned in Buenos Ayres. Whenever Eveline came to the house, he would find himself in the kitchen, sharing stories and finding out about her life. Soon they spent every moment possible together, he would wait for her outside the stores so he could walk her home from work. Even the crisp cold air could not distract him from Eveline or Poppens, as he had come to call her, affectionately.

What he loved most was how simple things he felt with her, he could be himself and she would listen intently. It had not mattered what he gave her whether it was freshly picked flowers or tickets to the theatre, poppens cherished them both as much. All over the world he had met women in different ports and had fleeting, empty relationships, but this was different. Everything he had hoped for in the new life he had planned, he could see clearly now. Eveline was strong minded, soft, hardworking, dutiful, all these things he could see in her. She spoke proudly of her home and fondly of her brothers, although one she had loved so dearly, had long since past. For many years she has held the family home together and contributed everything she had to give. So he felt it was past time she get the life she deserves and he wanted to give it to her, and make her his wife.

One night after walking her to door of her house, he stole a kiss. That was when he had a falling out with her father. He knew his type, just like his own, drunken, controlling, violent and miserable. A small mind and a small world he had lived in, and never left. He knew nothing of the wonders of travel or of the world. For years on the sea, people from different places and different backgrounds had shown him what truly was out there. So when he met this close minded horrible and cantankerous old man he knew they wouldn’t get on. Her father burst from the house and confronted them on the step, hurling insults and incoherent thoughts. Many had commented on ‘ da colour’ on him since his return but he was as Irish as the lot of them. The father was sure that this ‘sailor fella’ was only after Eveline for her virtue and her money, which was needed for the home. So that night they had a falling out over Eveline, which tore her apart and caused a drift between them. When he turned up at the stores the following day, she hurried along and tried to tell him it was best they didn’t see each other, she brushed him off. Day after day he waited outside, if only to walk beside her, even if she didn’t want him. She came around after a week and they began to talk about the future, hope returned, and his dreams felt within reach, once again.

Eveline was talking about running away and starting a new life, but she was afraid, and too loyal to her family. Everyday they spent talking about the sea and travel and Buenos Ayres, he could see her light up. Finally, after many weeks he convinced her to come to Buenos Ayres with him, and leave this misery behind. They had it all planned out and were making arrangements to run away in the night. One early morning he awoke and polished his shoes, he dressed in his best shirt and trousers and pulled on his wool peacoat. As he stepped out into the street he pulled his peak cap down, tucking his chin as he walked towards the morning fog that had filled the air and obscured his view. The bank was just down by the main street and he passed all the early morning workers on his way. The green grocer was unloading a wagon full of fruits and vegetables, the butcher stacked boxes of ice as he waited for the meats to come in from the the farmers. Just before he reached the the end of the road he seen his favourite stall, the fishmonger. Many a morning had he come down and picked from the fresh catch, some of his favourites, for stews and the sailors dinner, as they called it. Something about the taste of fish warmed parts of him like nothing else could, there was nostalgia and familiarity in it, a part of who he was. In the past few weeks he wondered if he shouldn’t settle down, if he should board a trawler or a cruiser in the port and set off on another adventure. Buneos Ayres could wait, it would be there, like it always had been, but he wasn’t going to get any younger. The sea had been good to him, it had made him, moulded him, tempered his soul and taught him many lessons in life. What’s another adventure upon the water, on the deck, as the salty air wets the tip of his tongue, and birds soar above, free among the clouds, kindred spirits upon the winds of the ocean. Yet now, he had another to consider, his love, his flame that flickered and glowed and shone light upon the life he could live, if he only took a chance. Yes, he had given blood, sweat and years to the tides, enough for a lifetime, now it was time for a new life. He hurried along towards the bank just in time for the doors to be unlocked and the teller to see him in. Since he was a young man, before he left home, he had kept what little money he had in an account in the bank, at the suggestion of his mother. Money was to taken out to pay for passage to Buenos Ayres, for him and his beloved. The teller gathered the all the cash he had and closed the account and that was it, no turning back.

Night came quickly and he gathered the last of his things into a little brown case. Travelling light was a habit you picked up fast when you moved from place to place on short notice. Soon he would be settled, in a new home, and have more things than could fit in a hundred cases. The road down to the port was full of people shuffling along, laughing, crying, silent, shrieking. Just beneath the lamplight he spotted Eveline, she was lost in her thoughts, he could tell from all the times he met her outside the stores. They embraced and he ran his hand across her face as he told her how happy he was that they were finally going to be free and be together. He grabbed her hand as he lead her through the crowd , he start to tell her about the ship, about their cabin, what it would be like on the sea, how he would make sure the crew look after them, how he was going to show her everything about ocean and the night sky. Suddenly he felt the weight of her, as he pulled her through the crowd, she resisted and looked pale among the faces that surrounded them. Their hands were clasped together and he called her to ‘come’ as she grabbed upon the railings and pulled away from him. Almost on her knees she let out a cry that cut through the thoughts that swarmed his mind, the crowd was pushing him onward towards the ship.

He focused in on her and called out “Eveline, Evvy” , passing the barrier he called out again, willing her to follow him, to come with him, to be with him.

Her face was washed white and expressionless, the eyes that had once lit the flames inside of him were empty and hopeless, he looked upon the one he loved and knew he had lost her, if he ever really had her at all.

So the sailor was returned the ocean and washed away on the high tide.