The wind and the waves crashed against the sides of the boat, so frail out there in the middle of the dark sea all by itself. Keeping steady footing was impossible, and keeping a steady head even harder.
And as the crew huddled together and screamed and wept and wished it were all a dream, The Man slept the sleep of the righteous, undisturbed and unafraid, the fury of nature powerless to break his peace.
“Don’t you love us?” cried the crew to the sleeping figure. “Don’t you care?”
The Man’s eyes flicked open. He slowly sat, then stood, somehow not seeming to mind that the world was doing its best to toss him overboard.
“Do I love you?” he said to the trembling shadows huddled in the middle of the deck. “Do I care?”
The crew looked nervously at one another. This seemed like an inappropriate time for rhetorical questions.
“Be at peace,” said The Man to the frightened crew, but it was the wind and the waves that heard. It was the wind and the waves that obeyed.
The churning black coil became a flawless crystal platter. The relentless angry howling disappeared into the silence. The stars twinkled mischievously in the endless charcoal, winking at the crew as they said, “And what exactly were you worried about?”
The world slept.
“Do I love you?” said The Man. “Do I care?”
“The wind and the waves shook me and screamed in my ear. I pushed them away because I was tired. But for you I woke.”
“The wind and the waves were still and at peace when I spoke. They had to be. They had no choice. But to you I give the gift of disobedience.”
“Do I love you? Do I care?”
The Man stretched his arms wide to encompass the whole of creation.
“You tell me.”
