by Fiona Lexus
After that first morning, the rest of the week went by in a Dramamine haze, but on Thursday he managed to pull himself together enough to ask Samantha to dinner. To his surprise, she said yes.
They sat that night on the veranda of the Trustfree building, studying the menus and watching the various rafts and dinghies float by.
A makeshift billboard bobbed on a stack of shipping pallets. It read: Find yourself underwater in your mortgage? Trustfree Banking can help! Ask us about our special new loans on coastal properties! The billboard turned and the other side showed Mr. Phillips’ smiling face. A speech bubble read: Need cheap boat insurance? Genesis Insurance Services can help!
Tom sighed and turned the page to the cocktail list.
“Wow. Phillips didn’t waste any time,” Samantha said. She was watching the billboard.
“No, he didn’t,” Tom replied. He took a sip of water while he tried to think of something else to say. A gray flash in the water caught his eye. Something sleek and pointy peeked from the surface and circled a floating dumpster. Was it a fin?
“Oh, look! The sharks are here!” Samantha exclaimed.
Tom spit water all over his menu. “The what!?”
“The sharks.” She gave him a confused look. “Don’t you ever open your NEA packages?”
He shook his head. “What package? I thought they just sent a raft!”
Samantha shook her head and chuckled, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a canister wrapped in a paper flyer and passed it across the table. Tom unwrapped it to see a can of shark repellant. The flyer read: During the Flood you may see increased shark activity, but please remember that they are STILL ENDANGERED. A reward will be offered to anyone providing information on poaching activity.
“Poaching activity?” Tom asked.
“Sure. People kill them for fin soup, and boots and stuff. I saw a documentary,” Samantha replied. “So what do you want to eat?”
“I was thinking seafood, but now I don’t know….”
The waiter brought a basket of bread and Tom reached for a piece, thankful for the distraction. Out in the water, someone started singing. Another raft floated by, nicer than the others. This one was made of shiny blue rain barrels, lashed together on top a stack of old doors. A man stood on deck, wearing suspenders and a bow tie. He sang in Italian as he pulled a long oar. There was a couple sitting on a bench in the back, the woman resting her head on the man’s shoulder.
The shark left the dumpster to follow the raft and, to his credit, the gondolier’s voice barely wavered as he watched it circle.
“Aww. That’s romantic,” Samantha said with a sigh.
Am I the only one that has trouble adjusting to all this? Tom thought. He was about to ask if she wanted to take a gondola ride after dinner, but then Samantha shrieked.
“Kitty!”
“What? Where?” Tom scanned the water and, sure enough, there was a little orange kitten scrambling frantically across the back of a floating office chair. The chair turned in the water and the kitten clawed for traction.
“We have to save it!” Samantha cried.
“We do?” Tom asked, but when he looked back at her, she had a look in her eyes. An expectant look that suggested that this was the moment when she would decide if there would be a gondola ride after dinner, or if she would even stay past the breadsticks.
Tom gulped. He looked from Samantha, to the kitten, and back. What the hell, he thought.
“Gimme that shark repellant.”
Samantha grinned at him as she passed it over. Tom popped the top, pulled the pin and tossed it in the water. He wondered briefly if he should remove his tie, but before he could have second thoughts, he climbed the rail and dove into the water.
WhatamIdoing?WhatamIdoing?WhatamIdoing?
He swam as fast as he could, not turning his head, not looking for the shark, just keeping his eye on the kitten. He reached the office chair and the cat leapt onto his head, digging its claws into his scalp. Tom yelped, got a mouthful of sea-water, but managed to keep his head above the surface as he swam back.
Samantha helped him climb the rail, then took the kitten from its perch on his head and hugged it tightly to her chest.
They sat back down. Tom tried to wring the water from his sleeves and pant legs, but it was no use. Samantha made cooing noises at the kitten who, soaked to the bone and terrified, was clawing ribbons from her sweater.
“Tom, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she said, beaming at him. To his surprise, she reached across the table and took his hand.
“Oh!” Tom said, managing to blush and shiver at the same time. “Well, you know, it wasn’t a big deal.”
The waiter came back and asked if they were ready. Samantha order tuna.
“I’ll have the rib-eye,” Tom said. “And a scotch. Neat.”
He could afford to splurge a bit tonight, couldn’t he?
