Undertow

by Natusch, Amber Lynn

  He looked away from me a moment before answering.

  “They did. Earlier this evening, but you didn't take it well. You flipped out and wouldn't calm down. They were concerned that they had overlooked a brain injury and started prepping to leave . . . ”

  “What happened? We're still here so they must have settled me down somehow.”

  “They did.”

  “How?”

  He hesitated slightly before answering.

  “They brought me in.”

  I sat up a little straighter, intrigued by his words.

  “As soon as I started talking to you, you calmed down.”

  My face flushed at his words, and I was suddenly glad to be surrounded by the darkness that had only moments earlier given me cause for concern.

  “After that, I offered to come in and wake you. They told me to make sure you were easy to rouse and coherent once semi-awake. I'd say you passed both of those tests this round.”

  “Oh. Well, I'm sorry you had to get up to check on me. I think I'll be okay with someone else making sure I'm still alive every hour. You need to rest too, you know?”

  I had meant to be helpful with my suggestion, knowing that he had to be as fatigued as I was, but my words seemed to bother him, his body language changing.

  “Whatever makes you the most comfortable,” he said, rising from the edge of the bed. “I hope your head feels better soon. Goodnight, Aesa.”

  “Decker—” I called after him, unsure of what to say. “Thanks. For everything.”

  “No big deal. Sneaking into a woman's room in the middle of the night is something I've always wanted to do.” His comedic deflection didn't fool me.

  “That's not what I meant. I meant thank you for everything. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't—”

  “I couldn't leave you there like that, floating lifelessly in the water,” he said quietly. “It's not a big deal. No thanks necessary. I'm just glad you're okay. You really gave me a scare there for a minute.”

  I slowly and gingerly pushed off of the bed to make my way over to him. There was sadness in his voice, and I couldn't take it. Where I would normally have run to escape the depth of emotion he held, that night, I ran toward it.

  “I'm sorry,” I whispered as I approached him. “I slipped . . . and then I couldn't get hold of your arm. And then—”

  “I let you fall,” he said sadly, the regret in his voice palpable.

  “That's not your fault, Decker. You saved me,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  Instead of arguing, he snaked his arms around my shoulders tightly, pulling me in closer to his body as he rested his head atop mine. In silence, we held each other. It was our way of acknowledging all that had happened, as well as all that nearly did. The comfort I felt in his embrace was like none I'd ever felt before. It was only when my head started to spin that I forced myself to let go and weave my way back to the bed, Decker guiding me along the way.

  “I don't like leaving you in here alone,” he stated firmly, unable to look me in the eyes as he helped me lie back in the bed.

  “Well, unless you plan on moving in, I don't think you have any other options.”

  He fixed the blankets around me to his satisfaction then disappeared from the room without a word. I felt my heart sink as he left, wondering if I'd said the wrong thing somehow. He had seemed tightly wound, and I wondered if I had somehow set him off. But before I could let my mind overanalyze my actions, he returned, dragging a fully dressed mattress behind him, complete with blanket and pillow. Silently, he set it up on the floor beside me before climbing into his makeshift accommodations.

  “How's this option?” he asked, setting a tiny alarm clock up beside his head.

  “If you'll sleep better listening to me breathe all night, then I suppose it's fine.”

  “I will. Thanks,” he replied soberly, turning to face me as we lay together in the small, dark room.

  “Get some sleep,” I told him softly, a faint smile gracing my lips. I didn't know if he could see it, but that didn't matter. I didn't do it for his benefit. It was an expression of how I felt.

  “You too.”

  I heard him rustle around on the bed while my eyes gave in to the exhaustion that weighed on them, unable to stave off sleep any longer. Just as I was drifting off, I felt something move on my bed, my arm sliding toward the edge and away from the warmth it had felt when it had been tucked in close to my body. That warmth was soon replaced by the heat radiating off his hand as it engulfed mine. I fought to rouse just enough to ask him what he was doing, but it was no use. My mind would not comply. Instead I fell asleep to his final words.

  “I'll never let you fall again.”

  14

  Seemingly just after I'd fallen asleep, I was awoken yet again by a male voice, though that time it wasn't Decker's. One of the officers had come to inform us that we were leaving for Dutch Harbor. A chaser storm was on its way, following in the wake of the hurricane. They had a narrow window of opportunity to return us to Dutch Harbor, and that moment was it.

  Decker and I changed out of the clothes they had graciously provided us with and back into our own. I kept the donated sweatpants, not wanting to parade around in my black long underwear any more than necessary. Minutes later, in the light of the early afternoon, we were ushered toward the gusting winds of the helicopter that awaited us, fully prepped and ready to go. My anxiety spiked as we approached it. The last time I'd been in the chopper, I had nearly died, or so I surmised. Decker had never told me as much, but I also knew enough to know that CPR had been performed because my chest was sore and bruised. Living people didn't need resuscitation.

  Unknowingly, I froze just before the door to the helicopter, searching my memory for anything it hadn't yet revealed to me about that night. I felt a hand slide gently into the small of my back and warm breath on my ear. I jumped reflexively.

  “You're okay. Everything is fine. We have to go, Aesa. We have to go now,” he shouted, though his words were as faint as a whisper, drowned out by the intense sound of the spinning blades. He reached down and took my hand in his, gently pulling me into the helicopter's small interior space. Only moments before the small aircraft lifted off, we were seated and fully strapped in by the Coast Guard crew with headsets over our ears. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I was never a fan of flying over open water; hours before I'd been too unconscious to care. Sensing my unease, a familiar hand found mine, squeezing lightly, a comforting gesture that helped to stifle my looming dread.

  Decker had that effect on me. With few to no words at all—just a look or a gesture or a simple touch—he could reverse the reactions that time and history had dictated and redirect them down a path that was both foreign and welcome. Somehow, he was repairing my hardwired responses with merely his presence, making me see how my mind had failed me over the years. Trust was not the enemy. I was not in the world alone.

  No one had ever made me feel that way.

  “Not a fan of heights?” he asked through the mic, his voice garbled somewhat by the background noise.

  I choked on a laugh and shook my head, squeezing his hand back more tightly.

  “I guess you didn't notice that last time we were up here,” I volleyed back, shooting him a full-blown smile, something I rarely, if ever, wore. His eyes lit up at the sight of it.

  “No, I didn't. You were either too busy passing out or you had your back to me ignoring me while I tried to keep you out of the throes of hypothermia,” he joked in return. “You're a bit of a snob when you're in shock. I wouldn't have figured you for having diva tendencies.”

  Then I laughed—really laughed. I laughed so hard that I was thrust forward by my cramping abs and need for oxygen. His words were just what I needed. I couldn't help feel that he somehow knew that before he uttered them.

  When I was finally able to fill my lungs and sit back up again, I found him looking at me with the joy of a child. He clearly basked in the know
ledge that he was able to calm my nerves.

  “Well, maybe I can make that up to you some time. I'll buy you a beer if we get home. I think we can call that even.”

  “A pitcher,” he demanded playfully.

  “Deal.” I shied away from his gaze, his eyes looking through me in a way no other’s ever had. “But it might be tricky given that my money is still on dad's boat.”

  “Details. We'll sort them out later.”

  I rested my head back against the wall behind me, closing my eyes. I wanted to continue my talk with Decker, finding it to be exactly what I needed, but fatigue was again winning out. We were in for a long trip, and I wanted it to pass as quickly as possible. Sleeping seemed the easiest way to accomplish that.

  * * *

  Decker

  I was relieved to see her relax in the chopper, but the grip she still had on my hand was welcome. I did nothing to lessen her hold on me. While I watched her rest, I wondered how she would feel once she knew the truth about who I was, about what I'd done. Felonies harbor a certain stereotype, whether they're warranted or not. I knew my sentence was bogus from the start, but it was also unavoidable, so I served it with as much dignity as I could. I knew that it didn't define me—didn't turn me into what most people assumed I was—but her opinion of me mattered, and I feared how she would look at me after she knew what I had done. Would she turn away from me like so many others had? I couldn't help but assume she would. I was fortunate to have her father see past my rap sheet. Maybe asking her to do the same was pushing the envelope a bit too much.

  I wanted her to know the truth about me up front. It seemed only fair, especially after what she had witnessed. What I did not want to do was push her away before I had the chance to fully pull her in.

  Not wanting to contemplate things I couldn't control, I mimicked her, resting my head against the wall behind me while I continued to hold her hand. I needed the sleep that I had gone without for far too long. I needed it even more so if I intended to tell her, in a way that she could not only understand but also forgive, that I nearly beat another man to death.

  It was a tall order, to say the least.

  15

  Aesa

  Decker seemed a bit tense when we touched down in Dutch Harbor and walked the few blocks from the landing pad to my Uncle Jimmy's tavern, The Albatross. He had a rather macabre sense of humor, but he was a sweet man, and I knew that he would give us some food and a beer on the house, or at least until I could pay him back. He was one of my dad's best friends and a town legend from as far back as I could remember. I hadn't seen him since I returned to town and was oddly excited to do so. I guess I had forgotten how much I liked him.

  The dinner bell rang when I pushed the door open. The place was relatively empty, only a few tables occupied by some townies and a few fishermen who had likely returned to avoid the wrath of the storm. While I looked around to confirm that the place hadn't changed, a voice from behind the bar called out to me loudly.

  “You're all right!” Jimmy shouted, storming around the bar as fast as his three-hundred-plus-pound frame would allow. “Christ, Aesa, I knew that it was you when I heard the call over the radio about the fisherman gone overboard off the Norwegian Queen. I'm so glad you're okay.” He crushed me into an embrace that was strangely welcome. At times he had been more of a father figure to me than my own dad had. Holding me in that moment, he seemed like one again.

  “Jimmy, I'm fine. Starving, but fine. Any chance you want to throw us a little food? My wallet is inconveniently on the boat still, but I can get it to you as soon as Dad gets back.”

  “I've got mine,” Decker chimed in from behind me.

  “No need,” Jimmy protested, pulling away from me to assess Decker. “Are you the other one that fell in? There's been a lot of talk throughout the fleet about the whole ordeal. The Coast Guard didn't mention it at the time, but Robbie said something about two men overboard to one of the other boats. Rumors spread like wildfire after that.”

  “Jimmy, this is Decker,” I said, introducing the two. “And yes, he's the other one they pulled out of the water, but only because he's a crazy person that did the opposite of what he should have done and jumped in after me.”

  “You're a brave son of a bitch,” Jimmy beamed, shaking Decker's hand. “Totally nuts, but brave all the same.”

  “Thanks,” Decker chuckled. Jimmy had a way with words that tended to take people a bit off guard when they didn't know him well. But I always found him amusing and refreshing, and Decker seemed to think the same.

  “Go grab a chair over there,” Jimmy ordered, waving in the direction of the back corner. “I'll bring you some beers and something hot to eat in just a minute.”

  I smiled a thank you at him and led the way to the table he'd indicated. It was isolated and away from the few patrons that were scattered throughout the relatively small establishment. The privacy it provided was nice, but it somehow seemed to make Decker's sudden awkwardness even more pronounced.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked him, taking my seat at the far side of the table.

  “Yeah . . . I've just been thinking about something.”

  “Something . . . ?” I repeated, unsure of where he was going with his ambiguous statement.

  “Here you go, kids. It's slim pickins in the kitchen today. With it being king crab season, I don't keep the place quite as stocked as I normally would.” Jimmy placed two big bowls of fish chowder down in front of us alongside two beers. “You need anything else?” he asked kindly before one of the town regulars started yelling at him from the far side of the bar.

  “No, Jimmy. We're all set. Thanks. You should probably go shut that guy down before he breaks something.”

  “He breaks something and I'll break him,” he mumbled as he walked away, making me giggle under my breath. I turned my attention back to Decker, who was watching me intently.

  “So this something,” I prompted, hoping to take his attention off of me.

  “Listen, I know you said you didn't need to know more about what I told Damon, but I feel like I have to at least explain the basics. For my own peace of mind. Please.”

  I looked at him over the rim of my pint glass. There was a sudden sadness in his eyes that looked out of place, the expression seeming wrong on him. He had said he wasn't ashamed of his past, but he was clearly haunted by it somehow, or at least the stigma that went along with it. For whatever reason, I felt like he didn't want me to think less of him because of it. What I couldn't figure out was why.

  “Go ahead,” I told him before taking another long drink of beer. The second I set my glass down he started his surprising story.

  “I told you what I was convicted of, but not why I was convicted of it,” he started, worrying his beer between his hands. “I nearly beat a boy to death, Aesa. I'm sure that offends your sensibilities on a number of levels, given that he was sent to the ER because of me and saved by someone like you, but I had no choice.” His eyes dropped to the glass in his hands in an attempt to avoid my gaze. “My sister . . . she had self-esteem issues growing up. Still does now, I imagine. At any rate, she could really pick a winner. This particular asshole decided that her face was an outlet for his anger issues. I came home in the middle of it.” He still wouldn't look at me when he paused, likely reliving the moment when he witnessed someone beating up his sibling. I was an only child, but I could still imagine the fierce emotions he would have felt in that situation. His actions seemed completely rational given those circumstances.

  “What happened?” I asked gently, trying to coax him back to the present.

  “I pulled him off of her and he turned on me. We fought for a while, my sister screaming and begging me to stop the entire time. Eventually, he grabbed a brass lamp from the desk in the room and wound up to hit me in the head with it. I intercepted it and smashed it across his temple. He didn't move after that. Not until the ambulance came.”

  I sat across from him, riveted and horrifi
ed by his story. His regret was palpable, and to me it was clear that he had no other choice at the time, but the picture he painted was gruesome nonetheless.

  “And the police? Did they come?”

  He nodded.

  “I was arrested at the scene and taken to jail for arraignment. They interviewed my sister, without counsel present, even though she was a minor at the time. I got a second-rate defense attorney who wasn't able to get the DA to see that it was self-defense, so I accepted a plea of guilty to second-degree assault and did my time.”

  “But your sister . . . she was there. She saw him attack you with what must have been deemed a deadly weapon. Why didn't you go to trial and have her testify?”

  His eyes saddened even more when he finally brought them up to meet mine.

  “Because she would have lied,” he said plainly, as if there were no question in his mind as to the veracity of his statement.

  “But . . . but that makes no sense. He hit her. She must have had bruises. There would have been evidence.”

  “There was, she couldn't lie about that, but she had no intention of painting me as the victim, Aesa. She loved that loser, and, like I said, she had low self-esteem. He knew how to play her like a finely tuned violin. One sad face and an 'I'm sorry, baby' from him and I knew I was sunk.”

  “So you saved a teenage girl from being beaten to a pulp, defended yourself in the process, and you're the one that got sent to jail? That makes no sense to me at all,” I exclaimed, finishing off my beer.

  “I'm okay with it now, Aesa. I forgave her. She was young and had issues. It's hard to hold that against her. Besides, it's like I said, those experiences have made me who I am, and I'm good with me. I know I'm not a common criminal. You'd be surprised how many of the guys in jail were all right,” he said, forcing a smile before taking a sip. “The ones that weren't . . . well, I learned how to blend in and lay low. I also learned a lot about how to read people, how the human mind works. It's amazing the kind of knowledge you can obtain when you have countless hours to just observe people. And read. I did a lot of reading too.”