Plastic

Caroline and Craig were on holiday. 

They went to the same villa, in the same town, on the same island in Greece, at the same time every year. Craig said it was because he thought it was the best place in the world. Caroline knew the truth . . . that they came to the same place every year because Craig was ‘risk averse’.

That’s what she told her friends. She’d heard the phrase used on the TV and said it aloud to herself a few times . . . “risk averse . . . he is a very risk averse person.” She liked it. It sounded clever and it described Craig perfectly.

When they ordered a takeaway, Craig always ordered it from the same Indian restaurant. He also ordered exactly the same meal every time – a chicken korma with plain rice. When Caroline suggested he try something different for a change, he’d point to his stomach and pull a face and say something like “you never know with Indian . . . get a dodgy stomach”. 

Risk averse, thought Caroline.

They were sitting on the balcony of the villa overlooking the sea, Caroline drinking a cold beer. Craig was having a cup of tea – using the PG Tips he’d brought with him. Craig put down his cup and pointed to something in the sea. 

“Look at that” he said with disappointment in his voice “a plastic carrier bag.” 

Caroline looked up from her book and peered out. “No” she said, “it’s a bird . . . a gull or whatever.” 

Craig hated being wrong. The fact is, Craig could not risk being wrong. He was 'risk averse'.

Craig squinted at the white object in the blue water. He was certain it was a carrier bag . . . but what if she was right? He looked sideways at Caroline. She had gone back to reading her book. 

He stared back at the white plastic bag floating in the water. Of course it was a plastic bag. A bird would be moving . . . would dip its head in the water to look for something to eat. 

“It’s a carrier bag” he said again, “the sea is contaminated with them.”

Caroline looked up at the huge expanse of blue sea in front of them. 

“Hardly contaminated” she said, “even if it is a carrier bag.” She went back to her book and said “still looks like a bird to me though.”

“I didn’t specify this sea being contaminated” said Craig, “I was talking about the problem in general. David Attenborough . . .” he stopped talking and stared at the bag. Had he just seen a movement? Or was he beginning to imagine it was moving? No, it was just the gentle movement of the water that made it look like it was moving.

“I should swim out there and get it out” he said, “it’s not right, that floating about and getting eaten by some bird or fish.”

Caroline looked at him, and then at the white floating object, and then back at Craig. “It’s too far to swim for you . . . too risky. Besides, it still looks like a bird to me.”

Craig wished he’d brought the binoculars that he always took away with him. He could see them on the little table in the flat at home. He always brought them with him. The binoculars were on his holiday list, underneath ‘27 bags PG Tips’ – exactly the number he required. He’d taken the binoculars out of the cupboard and put them on the table when Caroline had phoned to say she was going to be late from work as she was going for a drink with her workmates. 

When they were on the plane Craig realised the binoculars were still sitting on that little table . . . and had a sudden, cold, sinking feeling – the sort of feeling a person would get at the airport, seeing that their passport had just expired. 

He had pulled out the carefully folded list from his pocket and stared at it. He remembered how he had ticked off the binoculars on his list . . . and then Caroline had phoned, and he’d put them down to answer the phone. He shouldn’t have answered the phone. He should have dealt with the binoculars and then called Caroline back. But he’d put them down and answered the phone and then walked out of the room. In future he’d have to tick the items off only when they were placed into the suitcase. He knew that now. Caroline had looked up from the seat in the plane next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” she had asked, “you look terrible.” 

“The binoculars” he had said, “they’ve not been packed.” 

He had been careful not to say “I forgot to pack the binoculars” because technically he had not forgotten. She, Caroline, had distracted him and hence the binoculars had not been packed.

“But you always bring your binoculars” she had said, stating the obvious.
He then told her how she had distracted him by phoning him. She looked at him and wondered what she’d ever seen in him, and returned to her book.

Craig got up and walked to the edge of the balcony, putting on his sunglasses. He stared intently at the white carrier bag until his eyes began to blur. It was a carrier bag, he said to himself triumphantly. That is definitely a carrier bag. No life in that bag. He smiled at that – that was pretty funny.

He walked back and sat down. “Definitely a carrier bag. No life in that carrier bag” he said. 

Caroline looked up quizzically. “Who gives a shit? Even if it is a carrier bag, it’s only one in the whole fucking ocean. So fucking what?”

“It’s a sign of the times” Craig said “a sign of things to come if we don’t do something about it.”

Caroline managed to ignore Craig pretty effectively most of the time, but he really was irritating her now. She folded the corner of the page she was reading and put her book down and looked again at the white thing floating in the water. 

Normally, she would have just said something like “oh, I don’t know”, but now she said “I know I’m not as clever as you Craig, but I know the difference between a carrier bag and a bird, and that’s a fucking bird.” 

He shook his head at her dismissively. “While you’ve been reading . . . I’ve been watching the carrier bag. A bird would have been doing things. That bag is just floating.”

Away to the right he saw a small boat coming towards them.

“Ok, now we’ll see who is right” he said, pointing at the boat. “When that boat approaches the bag . . . if it’s a bird, it’ll take off. As it’s a carrier bag” he said, emphasising ‘carrier’, “it’ll just carry on floating about.”

She looked at him and wondered again what she’d ever seen in him. 

“I’m having another beer” she said and got up. 

“No” he said putting up his hand, “you’ve got to stay and see what happens.” 

“Fuck that” she said and walked into the villa.

He was annoyed that she wasn’t going to be able to watch him being right as the boat approached the bag . . . but he’d tell her and point to the bag still floating in the water. 
“The boat is pretty close now” he called out to her.

“Good” he heard her say.

Sure enough, the boat approached and the bag floated nearby as he said it would. He felt vindicated for his persistence. 

“The bag hasn’t taken off and flown away” he shouted into the villa.

Caroline came out with her beer. She hadn’t made Craig a cup of tea. She was too irritated. She stepped onto the grass and walked to the edge of the balcony and stared out to sea and wondered how anyone could be so annoying. 

She looked at the coastline in the distance and could see the sun glinting off the buildings and thought about all the people coming for their holidays, the children playing in the shallow water, the kids playing volleyball. And then her eyes fell on the white object. It really does look like a bird, she thought to herself.

“So?” Craig said when she came to sit down.

“So, what?” she said.

“So, do you accept it’s a carrier bag now?”

“I still think it looks like a bird” she said.

Craig rolled his eyes. “Do you mean ‘looks’ like a bird, or ‘is’ a bird?”

“Same thing really” she said, picking up her book.

“OK that’s it” he said, getting up. “I’m going to swim out and get the bloody thing.”

She looked up at him,  but said nothing and then shrugged. He stood looking at her, expecting her to tell him again that it was too far and too risky. 

“I’m still a good swimmer” he said almost defiantly. “And plastic shouldn’t be in the sea. If everyone did their bit . . .” his voice trailed off. She shrugged again and returned to her book.

Craig went into the bedroom and pulled on his swimming costume. He didn’t want to do this, but somehow he no longer had a choice. Anyway, at least he’d have the satisfaction of putting the plastic bag in front of Caroline and finish this once and for all.

“I’m going now” he said and waited for Caroline to say something, but she didn’t look up. 

He picked his way down the steep edge to get to the sea. There was a path, but it was stony and he had to make his way carefully. When he reached the rocks, he looked back up to the balcony of their villa, expecting Caroline to be standing watching him. It was empty. He needed to urinate. He should have gone before he came down. He couldn’t do it in the sea. It just didn’t feel right. 

He looked out to get his bearings and calculated it would take him about 30 minutes to get to the plastic bag and back. He cautiously jumped off a rocky ledge into the sea and started out for the bag. 

After every twenty strokes or so he stopped and looked up to make sure he was still going in the right direction. After about the fifth interval he stopped and looked up and had a brief moment of panic as he couldn’t see the bag, and then it bobbed into sight again. 

He kept going, but he was finding it a lot more tiring than he had expected. It was now every ten strokes he stopped to wade and check his direction. It was closer, but still seemed some way off. He turned and looked back to the shore and the villa. Was that Caroline standing on the balcony looking at him? He wiped the water from his eyes and looked again. He wasn’t sure. 

A thought was growing . . . perhaps this was just a bit too far and he should go back and admit it. But what about the carrier bag? He turned and looked at it. He couldn’t go back without it. He knew that. 

He started swimming again. He was tired. He gulped a couple of mouthfuls of seawater by mistake and stopped . . . coughing and spitting out salty water. 

The water wasn’t quite as smooth as he’d expected either. From the balcony it had looked like glass, but once in the water there were small waves which meant he kept losing sight of the plastic bag. He was getting closer, though, and he needed to. He knew that. But at least going back would be easier as he’d have the plastic bag . . . he’d have his proof. 

As he got closer he thought “there’s something in the bag . . . or there’s air in it”, and then the bird looked at him quizzically, pushed itself out of the water and flapped almost with irritation as it took off.

Craig stared at the spot where the plastic bag had been. He looked around in all directions and even felt about under the water. The sea water was stinging his eyes. He swam about staring into the water. His head was suddenly aching and his arms and legs felt weak. His eyes searched towards the villa and the balcony. 

Was that Caroline standing there? Was it? He couldn’t quite tell. It was just too far away. 

But . . . it really looked like Caroline . . . and . . . she was waving . . . like she was waving goodbye! 

He could only just tread water . . .

 

And why was she waving?