Rogue Wave

Gust slices against the fishing boat as Marcello and Antonio heave together, preparing to cast their fishing net overboard.

“The future?” Antonio teases. “What are you worrying so much for?” He easily ties his part of the line, ensuring a connection between the ship and netting.

“I dunno, Tony. I just get thinking.” Marcello finishes tying his knot slower, then slumps against the side railing. He let his gloved hand run along the sea-rusted metal. “You sure this thing’s safe in waters like this?”

“See there is your problem. The thinking. You are thinking far too much my friend.” Tony stood his ground just fine as the ship rocked uncomfortably, then took hold of the railing on the opposite side from Marcello. 

“You’re good to her, aren’t you? Just propose, get it over with man."

“Maybe you’re right” Marcello yells back over the roaring wind. In the distance, lightning streaks stab across storming skies, the sight sends chills up his arms.

“I know I’m right. Look at me Marc, I’m living the life!” His smile was infallible against the weather. Marcello had no idea how Antonio kept so cheery in the conditions they were sailing. 

“Six years married, and two little scamps running around the house. I couldn’t be happier” finished Antonio.

“Not happy enough to say no to shrimping though, right?”

“Hah!” Antonio let out his deepest sailor's laugh. “Man’s gotta bring the money in somehow. These shrimp sell pretty at the market.”

A crashing wave came against the vessel, and both men slipped from their feet onto the deck floor. Marcello especially found himself gripped tightly to the safety line.

Antonio laughed again, this time half pumped on adrenaline. “What’s wrong, seasick already man? You kept on land too long.”

“Shut up.” Marcello pulled on his hood, but there was no escaping the sea spray and rain.

Antonio didn’t bother standing back up, and both men braced against the sides. 

“So why’d you insist so much on helping me out this trip anyway, needed a quick buck that bad?”

“Maybe.”

Antonio waited for a further explanation from Marcello for a while, but unlike the ceaseless waves, one never came.

“Come on, Marc. You sure you didn’t come to your big old Tony for his sage-like love advice?”

“Give me a break man.”

Antonio scratched at his dark beard. “Really, what’s the side hustle for if you didn’t come for the thrills? I know you aren't just out here for me.”

Marcello sulked a moment, then gave in. 

“The ring.”

“Hah, I knew it” Antonio gloated. “What’s all the gloom and uncertainty for then? You came out into this crap to make money for the ring, and you still aren’t sure?”

Another powerful wave washed underway and shook the men up and down.

The heaving and hoeing of the movement made Marcello sick. “Don’t you ever get worried this far out from land? Why the hell are we out here in a storm anyway?”

“Ah, you’re just changing the subject.”

“I mean it, man. These waves are serious.”

“I told you not to be scared of a little rocking if you were gonna come. The fishing is best like this, and not to mention the competition is light on these waters.”

“Because no one is stupid enough to come out this far in a storm.”

“I do it all the time Marc, stop whining.”

Marcello looked around, and there wasn’t an inch of land on the horizon. Only pure, dark sea.

“Come on, Marc. Help me pull the line.”

They each labored against their respective lines, pulling the netting in sync. Before long it emerged from the darkness, carrying a bountiful haul of shrimp.

“Hah, I told you! Look at that” celebrated Antonio. Marcello can’t help but catch some of his friends cheer, and smiles. A moment later he spots a crab struggling in the netting. He picks the feisty guy up, and it waves its claws around in defiance. “Back home with you” Marcello mumbles while tossing the crustacean overboard. 

“Guess you weren’t kidding about the location Tony. Not a bad first haul.”

The men both work to dump the contents of the netting into large containers with water which keep the shrimp fresh. Together they then prepare the net for another throw. It didn’t take long into their labor for Antonio to pry at his friend again.

“How long have you two been together, anyway?”

“Just past two years now” Marcello sighed.

Antonio became uncharacteristic in his tone. “You can’t be playing around so late in the game, Marc. If you don’t wanna be with her-”

“I do” Marc yelled, mostly due to the picking up wind. “I do. It’s not that - really. Fine, Tony, you win. I just wonder if I’m gonna be enough, alright? I mean look at me man, I am out here throwing nets for side change. I wanna give her the best life I can, and we don’t even have a place yet. I worry if I can be there for her.”

Antonio waves his hands in a calming motion. “Marc, Marc. You’ve gotta relax. Seriously - you’ll scare all the shrimp off.”

Marcello took a long breath. The rain began to hit so hard that it seemed to be carving against their jackets.

Antonio picked the conversation back up with a smile again. “If all that mattered, she wouldn’t still be there waiting, Marc. You love her, clearly, so take the plunge.”

“Don’t say plunge.”

“Hah” chuckled Antonio. “Well, I mean it. She’s been around putting up with your sorry sack for a few years, but don’t think she’ll wait forever.” Antonio gave Marcello a soft punch to the shoulder. “Mi Amore wasn’t gonna sit around all day for me, let me tell you. Miss a catch today, it’s someone else’s tomorrow.”

Marcello was in a fluster. “What if she says no?”

“Really? Look at you out here busting it in this storm. Do you think she’d deny the hardest-working man alive? Probably second most handsome too.”

Marcello gave a genuine laugh that stood its own against the weather. “Shut up, man.”

They each grinned.

“Hey Tony, thanks. I mean it.” 

“Of course brother. Any…” He trailed off. Antonio was staring out over the side of the ship. His mustache dropped with his slacked jaw, and his smile washed away.

Marcello felt his stomach sinking. Wide-eyed, a colossal rogue wave began to swallow the sky above them. The water towered many times higher than the ship, which seemed no more than a toy. 

The men braced for the inevitable.