Trawling Atlantis

"I seduced him, Dad!"

He blinked silently at that admission. Then he laughed. "I find it highly unlike my little girl..."

I got to my feet. "I'm 18, Dad. I'm no longer 'your little girl'."

"You'll always be my little girl, Alexandra," he said softly but firmly, "And I no longer have a son. No son of mine would do anything like what I found this morning. So, as you no doubt heard, you won't see him again. Not if he's got any brains in that sick head of his. Because I did not idly threaten him. He will never be welcome in this house again, as long as I draw breath."

I narrowed my eyes as I glared at him. "I love him. And I hate you."

"You don't mean that, Alexandra. You'll see what I mean soon."

"Bullshit. I'll always love him." I brushed past my father, walking towards the hallway, turning back to glare at him again, "And I'll always hate you for driving him away."

I immediately tried communicating with my brother, calling and messaging his phone, but it was already switched off. I had heard what my father had said, but hoped Chris would ignore the warnings. I tried sending him an email, but never heard anything back.

My father was also true to his word. Four days after Chris left, my phone blew up with messages from the family, consoling me about what happened, calling my brother every name under the sun, stating he would never be welcome in their homes again. I honestly thought those were only threats but my father was true to his word. He didn't make idle threats. And he made sure to destroy my brothers' reputation.

Within a month, even his and my friends had found out. And I knew I just couldn't be honest with them, because no doubt they'd think I was a freak, and I'd lose friendships I'd built over many years. I never said anything negative about my brother, even when my friends thought he'd assaulted me, even raped me. I denied he did either of those things, though would not elaborate any further. How could I say that I loved him more than anyone and would have happily spent the rest of my life with him? I just told them that my brother was a good man and would never hurt me. I was left thinking my friends just thought I was left damaged by my so-called 'ordeal'.

After three years at university, training to become a teacher, I was desperate to move out of home. By this stage, I refused to even speak with my father, barely acknowledging his existence. I was rarely home, either at university, studying somewhere or working, either as a student-teacher or in a part-time job. I'd tried innumerable times over the years to get my mother to open up and tell me where he may have gone. But she refused, almost scared of how my father would react if she did. I know the relationship between my parents was strained after what happened that morning. They still loved each other, but it was an event that did drive a wedge between them.

I'd asked his friends time and again, but they didn't have a clue, as he didn't let them know where he was going. And, after what they'd learned, they wouldn't have helped him anyway. I even asked Melanie, which was rather awkward, knocking on her door three years after he'd left. I'd only found her because she was still living in the same apartment.

She invited me in after answering my knock on her door. Offering me a coffee, I accepted and took a seat on one of her armchairs, waiting for her to return. I noticed the ring on her finger as she handed me the mug before sitting on the couch near me.

"You're married?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, six months already."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks." She took a sip of her coffee. "What brings you to my door after all this time, Alexandra?"

"I know this is a bolt out of the blue, but do you have any idea where my brother is? Do you have any idea where he may have gone? Everyone I've asked won't say or they don't know. You're my 'Hail Mary' attempt."

"I wish I did, but no, I don't. The last time I heard from him was the phone call, saying it was over, though he did his best to not make it sound like he was in love with someone else." I tried to keep the smile from appearing on my face, though Melanie just looked at me with a smirk of her own. "I know he was talking about you, Alexandra."

I should have been surprised, but I guess my feelings were obvious. I'd always been jealous of her. I knew Chris had felt guilt because of it, and I'll admit, even I did at times.

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"Don't be. I knew Chris was never truly in love with me. I saw the dynamic between you two. I wasn't blind. But I just thought you were rather close, despite being siblings." She looked at me again. "But I've heard what your father has told everyone, the Chinese whispers that took place at the time. What's the truth?"

I shrugged. "We made love." She gave me a look that suggested 'Well, duh.' "We wanted each other. We've always loved each other. We finally did something about it. I've always been in love with him, and I know he always felt the same way."

"Who seduced who in the end?"

"I think I made my intentions that night rather obvious. I definitely gave my brother the green light to proceed." I sighed, "I did feel a little guilty. So did he. He said that..." I trailed off, as it was obvious.

"I guess if you hadn't made your move, we might still be together." I nodded. "Hey, you did me a favour, Alexandra. I knew I was always going to play second fiddle to you, even if I did marry him, which I didn't think would ever happen. But I'll tell you one thing. I did love him."

"I know," I said softly, "And he loved you, in his own way. But..."

"He wasn't in love with me," she stated, and I could hear the sadness, even after all this time. "I think you're weird. I think you're both really fucking weird. But, in all honesty, I don't hate either of you. I should have hated him from the moment he ended that call, but I never did. I knew when he called that night he was going to end it, and I had an inkling as to why. I actually pitied both of you."

I must have looked shocked as she chuckled. "You don't? Or you do?"

"No. Why should I? Sure, what you did was so off the deep end, I kind of understand why your father blew his top. I mean, you're related. It's... weird, as I said. That's why I pity you. No-one will ever accept your love. I have no idea what Chris is doing. But I guess you're still single?"

I shrugged. "Tried one or two dates. I just compared them to Chris. So, yes, I am at the moment."

"I can only wish you good luck, Alexandra, but he's not in Sydney, that much is true. I'm not even sure he's still in the country."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling. I think if he was in the country, he'd have at least tried to keep in contact with his friends. If he'd at least talked to them, they may have believed him instead of your father. His silence led to everyone believing him guilty."

"I wonder where he could have gone then," I muttered. I looked at Melanie, and she just shrugged. "I'll find him eventually."

Melanie actually smiled. "I hope you do someday. Everyone, even you two, deserve some happiness."

"I'm glad you found happiness too, Melanie. And I'm sure he'd think the same thing."

I was 21 when I moved out of the family home. I had been desperate to leave since the day Chris had been kicked out, but I couldn't afford to live away from home while I studied. But once I had a full-time teaching job, I immediately started looking for my own place. I had one or two offers from friends to flat-share, but I wanted solitude. I was already feeling lonely without my brother, and my friends were already trying to set me up with plenty of men.

My father offered to help me move, which I refused. We barely spoke, though I made sure I was never rude to his face. But on the day I moved out, I finally told him exactly what I thought of him. Watching his face fall, knowing his heart was breaking, I didn't feel anything except contempt for the man. The last words I shared with him echoed what he said to Chris.

"As far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a father. No father would have done what he did to my brother. If you ever see me again in this lifetime, it will be too soon."

I kissed Mum goodbye, letting her know that I didn't blame her, she being as much a victim as I was, considering she hadn't seen or heard from her son since that day, before I got in my car and followed the removal van to my new apartment.

Once I'd settled in my new place and job, I hired a private investigator to try and find my brother. I gave him the details I was aware of. His name, age, assumed profession, height, weight and other personal details. The date he left home. The date he may have left the country. Anything and everything possible I could think of that may help track him down.

I paid him a lot of money over many months and what did he come back with? Fuck all. Well, maybe not quite that. He could only tell me one thing. My brother was definitely not in the country. But as to where he was now, he couldn't tell me. He gave me possible options, depending on what sort of visa he may have been able to obtain, but the world is large. It would have been a needle in a haystack.

It was soon seven years since my brother had disappeared. I was miserable. If I'd gone to a doctor, they would have just called me depressed and tried to get me tablets. All I know is that I missed him each and every day. But I was ready to give up. It was perhaps just time to move on. I'd never forget him. I knew he was out there somewhere. I wondered what he was doing. I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him. I just hoped he was okay and that, despite everything, that he'd found some happiness, even if that was with someone else.

I did my best to put my brother to the back of my mind and eventually met someone I figured I could date for a while. To be honest, I chose him because of subtle reminders he gave me of Chris. It wasn't really fair on him, and I never truly loved him, but like Chris had done with Melanie, I was settling for second best. We never moved in together. I was not interested in that sort of commitment. I certainly didn't want to be married or bring children into a relationship with a man I didn't love as much as someone else. But we dated, and we eventually had sex, but it wasn't terribly satisfying. No fault of his. Objectively, he was very good. Pushed the right buttons. Made me orgasm. But I had nowhere near the same feelings as that one night with my brother.

But have you ever felt like life was just beating you down? My world fell apart for a second time not long after I turned 29. Mum had been feeling under the weather for a while and, after numerous tests, was given the worst news possible. She was immediately put in hospital for treatment, an attempt to at least prolong her life and prevent further spread of the disease. I visited whenever possible and it was only a month or so after the diagnosis that Mum called me in to talk to me alone.

"I don't care what your father says. If I'm a goner, I want to see my son before it happens."

I felt my stomach drop and my heartbeat increase. "What do you mean, Mum?"

"I mean I have at least an idea of where Chris is." I was already holding her hand and she yelped as I unconsciously squeezed it hard. Once I loosened my grip, she said, "I sent him to the UK. If he's not in Australia..."

"I've hired a private investigator before. He was adamant Chris wasn't here. He couldn't tell me where he'd gone, only that his passport record stated that he'd left."

Mum nodded. "Then he's in the UK. The question is, Alexa. Do you love him?"

"I've never stopped loving him, Mum. You know that."

She nodded. "Very well. Travel to the UK. Go to Inverness. That's where I suggested he go. Someone there may know where he went. Bring my boy home, Alexa. I want to see him one last time before I die."

The boyfriend was dumped the next day. A flight to London Heathrow was booked for two days later. I told the school I needed to take emergency leave due to family issues. I let my landlord know I was going to be out of the country for a while but I'd still meet the rent, unsure of when I'd return, asking a friend to at least check the place from time to time to ensure it at least didn't burn down.

Sitting in departures at the airport, I couldn't stop the butterflies in my stomach. Finally, after over ten years, there was a silver lining. I knew it was still a long shot. Chris could be literally anywhere in the world. I could only cross my fingers and hope that Inverness would start a trail of crumbs that would lead me to him.

Landing at Heathrow, crossing the UK border was interesting when the customs officer asked why I was visiting the UK. "I'm here to find my brother," I replied.

"Is he in trouble?"

"No. But he disappeared a few years ago. I believe he's here."

"Is he a missing person?"

"I don't believe he is. We just need to find him."

"How long ago did he get here?"

"Over ten years ago."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

I shrugged. "There was a falling out. With my father."

"How long do you intend on staying in the UK?"

"As long as I can find him. If I have to stay longer than legally allowed, I can always get a visa. I can apply for an ancestry one if required."

The border official just nodded, as I'd half admitted I'd be willing to break the law to find him. He eventually stamped my passport and handed it over. "Good luck on your quest, Miss. I hope you find him."

"Me too."

After collecting my luggage, I headed straight for the domestic lounge and booked the first flight out towards Scotland. I found one leaving for Inverness in the afternoon, meaning I'd have to spent a few hours waiting, but I didn't mind. Once I'd checked in my luggage, I headed for a bar and enjoyed a drink, feeling nerves actually start to build. I actually felt confident I was going to find him. I just knew, like a sixth sense, that he was somewhere in the UK. He felt closer than I'd felt in a very long time.

I managed to find a hotel upon arriving in Inverness, landing after the sun had gone down, so all I did was have a meal in a nearby pub before getting some much needed sleep. The next morning, I grabbed a taxi and headed to the address Mum had given me. I felt another bundle of nerves as I knocked on the door, answered by a lady who was a dead ringer for Mum.

"Hiya. How can I help?" she asked in a broad Scottish accent.

"Hello, I'm Alexandra. I'm looking for Mary."

The lady clapped her hands together and laughed. "Alexandra! Claire told us you were coming! Oh, I'm Mary, by the way." She reached forward and dragged me in for a hug. "We've been wondering if or when you were ever going to get here."

I found myself introduced to the extended family over the next few hours. Far too many Scottish people, with way too strong an accent, that I could barely understand half the time. They were full of a million and one questions about me, though were aware of what Mum was going through back home. Once I'd answered what I could, I finally asked the one question I was dying to ask.

"Do you know where my brother is? Did you ever meet him?"

"We met him just the once, over a decade ago. I still remember him even today. He looked... lost, like his entire life had been destroyed. He didn't stay long before he took off."

"Do you have any idea where may have gone?"

Mary shook her head. "No. He's not in Inverness, that's for certain. He gave no indication he was going to go too far though. It's possible he may have remained in the region."

"Where could he possibly be? What could he be doing?"

Mary could obviously hear the desperation in my voice. So could one or two of the others in the room. Mary shared a glance around the room before nodding. "We'll certainly put the word out for you."

They offered me a room for the duration, but I was going to do my own searching. I was going to use my Google-fu and see what would happen. Figuring Mary may have been right, and Chris would have stayed somewhere close, I pulled up a map of northern Scotland and wondered what Chris may have chosen to do. He had worked as labourer, much like his father, so figured he would have tried to do the same thing. I tried numerous options -- plumbing, carpentry, landscape gardening -- you name it, I tried it, but there was no sign of his name anywhere.

After a least a week of searching online and simply through asking a million and one questions, criss-crossing the north, someone suggested fishing. I asked Mary upon returning to Inverness, and she thought it was a possibility, though wondered how an Australian would cope with deep sea fishing to the far north of Scotland. Once again, I used my Google-fu and, this time, I may have actually found him.

There was a chance, a possibility, he was in Peterhead. I wondered what on earth would have led him there, but if the website that listed every ship that was based there, he was currently captain of a ship. And the name of his ship almost brought me to tears.

He had called his ship the 'Alexa'.

I knew in that moment that he'd never forgotten me. That he still loved me. That he still thought and probably dreamed of me. Those thoughts broke my heart, realising how alone he must have felt, ostracised from me, the rest of his family, his friends, his homeland.

I called Mary and let her know what I'd found. She told me simply to get in my hire car, drive to Peterhead, and find him.

So that is exactly what I did.

Inverness to Peterhead should normally take no longer than three hours to drive. But it felt like it was the longest drive of my life, my eyes glancing between the clock or milometer, each taking forever just to move up one digit. I spent most of the trip on the verge of tears, desperate to know that the name I'd found was truly him. The fact his ship was named after me was almost a cause for celebration. It couldn't just be a coincidence. Surely fate couldn't be that cruel?

I parked near the harbour and wandered the docks, looking for any sign of his ship, but the few that were in dock were not named after me. But I wasn't going to give up so easily. There were a few pubs nearby and I looked for one that appeared to cater towards sailors, or what I soon learned what were called trawlermen. I approached the lady behind the bar, who looked upon me with a little curiosity. I was obviously a new face.

"How can I help? Want a drink?"

"I'm looking for someone."

The lady laughed. "That's quite the accent. Never thought we'd get a second one here." My heart leapt in my chest as I was sure that meant what I hoped it did.

"Do you know someone called Christopher McDonald?" I asked quietly, almost thinking if I said his name, my hopes would disappear.

The lady nodded. "Aye, I do. Who's asking?"

"I'm Alexa."

No word of a lie, the entire pub fell silent and it felt like all eyes were suddenly on me. "Holy shit! You actually exist!" one of the man at the bar exclaimed. There were other murmurs and shouts of excitement before the lady behind the bar shushed all of them.

"Aye, lass, I know someone called Christopher McDonald. He's currently out at sea at the moment. Ian, when did you say he'll be back?"

"Tomorrow morning, as long as the sea remains calm. But Chris is a good skipper. He'll get the boat home."

I suddenly felt very faint, placing both hands on the bar. I wanted to be sick. I felt a hand on my back, and a stool pushed underneath me. "Heard all about you," a voice with a very thick accent stated.

"You have?" I asked, turning to see a man with a bright red but kindly face, a lot of facial hair and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Aye, I have. Name's Jack. Chris was on my boat for a number of years. Bloody hard worker and a good man to boot. And I know about you, Alexa."