by K. M. Galvin
East flashes an embarrassed smile. “I’m more of a catch-and-release kind of guy.”
“Why do I feel like that’s your life motto?” I wink to let him know I’m joking and wiggle my fingers for him to hand over the knife. “Will you hold the bag open for me, please?”
“You did say please,” he agrees and scoots up close to me, watching what I do intently. It feels good to be helpful. I make quick work of the fish, slicing out two filets and cutting off the skin so we won’t ingest any scales. Thank you, Dad, for dragging me out nearly every Saturday morning to go fishing.
“It’s sloppy work, but I’m so hungry I can’t be bothered to be neat about it,” I say as I hand him his half and watch as he studies it.
“Pretend it’s sushi, right?” He maintains eye contact with me as he leans in for a bite. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, trying to hide my smile as he gags and forces it down. “Ugh, fuck!”
I snicker and take a bite of mine, wrinkling my nose at the taste. It’s an explosion of flavor on my tongue and in no way is it a good one, but I concentrate on the protein we’re getting and am able to get it all down, breathing heavily through my nose.
It’s stupid to think it works instantly, but I could swear I feel the calories and protein already helping my poor body. I already feel energetic, which is why it’s surprising that I yawn loudly.
I watch East choke down his fish, realizing it’s getting easier to see him in the dark, and turn to look behind me as the sun peeks over the horizon. I rest my head in my hand, blinking sleepily as the rays crawl across the water, reaching out like fingers as warmth crawls over our boat and up our bodies.
Day two approaches so quietly, I’m almost fooled into thinking we’re safe. But quiet is the enemy in which my mind spirals. I hear rustling behind me and I turn to see East crawling back under the makeshift tent. I move to follow him. We’ve become vampires, eating flesh and blood, hiding from the sun.
But it’s better to be undead than just dead, I suppose.
THE NEXT DAY AND NIGHT fly by as East and I sleep through it entirely. Exhaustion from fishing for hours the previous night took us out completely and the fish that we ate is long gone.
I’m still hungry. Starving.
My stomach cramps so hard it brings tears to my eyes, and all I want to do is sleep to escape the pain of hunger, the unrelenting insanity of thirst. To be surrounded by water and not being able to have any is a torture I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
My lips are so dry they crack and bleed almost constantly now. I lick the blood, thinking at least maybe then I can quench some of this thirst, and I’m brought back to my earlier thought of us being vampires. I laugh and thank God my father isn’t here to see his daughter slowly go insane.
“What’s so funny?” East rasps, his throat bone dry.
“I’m a vampire,” I laugh and lick my bottom lip again. The coppery taste of my blood is unpleasant but at least it’s something. I tilt my head towards East, laughing again when the world spins, and smile at him.
“Fuck, Taylor,” East whispers, his eyes sad, “stop licking your lips. You’re only making it worse.”
“It’s something, East. It’s something,” I whisper back, suddenly devastated, and my eyes burn with tears I can’t shed. There’s no liquid in my body. I’m a husk.
East reaches a hand over and rubs his thumb along my eyebrow before placing the back of his hand to my forehead. “Shit, you’re hot.”
“Thanks. I think you’re pretty hot too.” I grin deliriously back at him.
East shakes his head sadly and shifts closer to me. “No, baby. You’re burning up. I think you’re sick.”
“I’m dying,” I confess, frowning. My whole body aches, especially my shins. I want to tell him, explain to him it’s probably an infection in my cuts, but the words seem too big for my mouth.
East’s eyes become as crazy as I feel and he leans his forehead against mine. “No, you’re not. Go back to sleep. I’m going to take care of you.”
“I need to hold the light for you, how will you see?” I whisper, eyes already closed, mind drifting.
“It’s ok, Taylor. I’ve got this one. You get some sleep,” he whispers against my ear, nosing my straw-like hair briefly before disappearing. I want to swat him away because it tickles, but don’t have the strength.
“East,” I call out weakly before drifting into sleep, “don’t leave me.”
My body relaxes back no matter how much I tell it to stay alert and I lie there, helpless, and listen for him. I hear him unzip the side pocket containing all our medical supplies and maybe I don’t have to say anything after all.
I wonder how bad the infection looks then…
He’s back quickly and I tilt my head towards where I imagine he might be. Everything seems to be floating around.
“This is going to sting, but we need to clean them,” he leans down to whisper, but doesn’t wait for any sign from me to continue. “I’m sorry.”
I wish I could ask for what, but it wouldn’t matter as he presses the alcohol wipe against my legs and holds it there for a minute. At first I feel nothing but the coolness of the alcohol against my skin, then East begins to scrub it. The burn races up my body, goosebumps rising in its wake, and I want to scream.
A sound finally tears from my throat, the loudest sound I’ve heard in days. It startles both of us. East curses, apologizes, makes stupid promises, but all I can do is scream and pant through the terrible pain.
He rubs something on them and it feels a tiny bit better, then blows gently across my shins, and it reminds me so much of my dad I nearly bawl. Dad always blew on my scrapes. East wraps some gauze around them next and I want to yell at him for wasting supplies on a dying girl, but how do you argue with someone trying to save your life?
When he’s done, I can feel the exhaustion coming off him and feel guilty. East cleans up and comes to lie down next to me. I’m on my back, trying to control my breath as he moves close to me, resting his head against my shoulder. The intimacy of our positions should raise a flag, but I don’t think I’ve been closer to another person in my life.
His hand trembles as he wipes tears I didn’t know I cried from my face.
“You’re going to be ok,” he promises, but I say nothing. I’m not really sure he’s even speaking to me.
When I wake next, I roll over to find him gone. Sitting up fast, my hand clutches my head as it spins.
“Take it easy, you’ve been out for a while,” East says from somewhere in front of me, and I squint in the sunlight to see him rowing.
I still, not comprehending before I shoot to my feet, cursing silently when I sway and sink back down. I’m so fucking weak, and it’s not just from the infection. “What are you doing?”
East’s lips lift slightly before looking off to the left, clearly not wanting to get into this with me. “What does it look like?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that, honestly,” I snarl and move gingerly until I’m standing, albeit unsteadily, in front of him. It’s then that I realize he’s taken off his shirt. Stupid.
I look around me, finding it flung carelessly to the side, and reach down to grab it. “Put this back on, I can already see your shoulders getting too red.”
“I’m too hot.” He shakes his head as he continues to row.
“East, stop!” I grab one of the paddles, and East pulls them until they’re resting on his lap.
“I am not going to sit here helpless. You almost died two days ago!” he snarls up at me.
I blink, stunned. Two days?
“East, you don’t even know where you’re going. We could be rowing further away from land.”
“Or we could be rowing to it, or in the path of a boat,” he counters, and his optimism sets my teeth on edge.
“If you want to participate in this exercise in futility, fine. You’re just killing yourself faster—”
“Wow, don’t mince your words, Taylor.”
East smiles, but there’s nothing funny about it.
“At least wait until night. It makes no difference, right? You don’t know where you’re going, but at least you won’t have the sun beating down on you,” I cajole, hoping he sees reason in this, at least.
He’s quiet for a moment and I can tell he wants to argue, but he nods and pulls the paddles inside, securing them before waving me to sit in front of him.
“Come here, I need to check your legs.”
I sit down on the bench opposite him. East gently takes my right leg in his hand and places my foot in the spot between his legs. I look out to sea to avoid showing off the blush racing across my cheeks.
We’ve been so intimate with each other, in every way but sexual, yet somehow it’s much more. He’s my partner in survival. He saved my life and I his. It’s weird to feel so comfortable this quickly around a stranger—and he is, even with the imminent death confessionals we made in the beginning, still a stranger.
I look back to my leg as he begins to unwrap the gauze, wincing slightly as it sticks.
“Sorry,” East murmurs, having felt me tighten up.
I lean down as it comes off completely, grimacing at the sight. “Gross.”
“It looks so much better,” East assures me.
The worst cut, the one that got infected, is about four inches, but not too deep. It’s slightly swollen and covered in dried blood. Dried…ugh, disgusting…pus is stuck to my skin. I poke the edges and there’s pain, but nothing crazy. I’d rather feel something there than nothing.
“It was bright red and crazy hot,” East continues, dipping some clean gauze in the water and bringing it to my leg.
“I can do it,” I murmur, taking it from him and doing my best to clean it up.
We’re quiet as I clean up one leg as he works on the other, when I realize I never thanked him.
“East.” I pause my gentle scrubbing and look up at him. It’s like I’m actually seeing him for the first time. Affection surges inside me and I tighten my grip on the gauze I’m using to prevent myself from hugging him. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He looks away quickly, as if embarrassed, and I want to tease him. He nods and continues helping me clean my wounds. For someone so strong and assured in the boardroom, he seems completely stripped of ego out here.
But then again, I don’t really know him, and maybe he’s really like this with everyone.
There’s a slight twinge in my stomach at the thought and I realize it’s jealousy. I roll my eyes. Get over yourself, Taylor. You have no right to be possessive over someone simply because you ended up in the same lifeboat together.
I lean over my knees to get a better look and wiggle my shoulders as my hair slides into my face. Ugh, I feel disgusting. I’m still covered in smoke, dirt, and God knows what else. Thank God I haven’t had to use the restroom, although the reason for it is scary. East just faces away from me and pees off the side of the boat. Nothing like that to bond you on the first day.
I wind my hair up and try my best to tie it into a knot on top of my head. It’s so crisp from the saltwater and sun; it makes it difficult to style.
“Are you worried about how you look?” East asks, amused.
I look at him drolly. “I’m well aware I’ve never looked worse. You should see yourself, stud. My problem is my skin feels like it’s crawling off my bones and my hair is so crisp I could probably break it clean off. I want a shower.”
I sigh and squint up at the cloudless sky. I guess it would be too much to hope for some rain.
THE FIRST NIGHT OF ROWING, I stubbornly stayed under the tarp, refusing to help. I couldn’t support this exercise in futility. Wasting energy, burning what little gas we have left in our bodies for some far-fetched chance. Yeah, I’ll pass.
At least I had something to point my anxiety, frustration, and despair at. Unfortunately, it was towards the only other person in this with me. I’m lashing out at him constantly now. Why couldn’t he just accept our reality?
“Move over, I can feel you breathing,” I growl, scooting as far away from him as possible. The sun is right above us, but it feels like it’s settled right in this boat. I’m so hot, dirty, and uncomfortable. I’m hungry, thirsty, and beyond tired even though all I do is sleep.
I know he is too, but he’s not giving up. He keeps trying and it’s pissing me off.
“I’m not even near you,” he replies calmly. He’s so calm, all the time. Another thing that annoys the fuck out of me. He doesn’t fight with me; in fact, the more pissed off I get, the calmer he gets. What kind of Zen shit is he on?
“I can feel the heat coming off your body, East.”
“Just go to sleep, Taylor. I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” I smart back.
I turn on my side to glare daggers at his back. His skin is bright red and angry, mostly because he’s constantly without a shirt. In any other situation I’d roll my eyes at the display of vanity, but I know it’s because he’s so overheated and now it hurts to have the cotton on his skin.
This only makes me angrier. He’s hurting himself!
I glance down at his form, tears welling in my eyes when I see how much weight he’s already lost. He didn’t have much fat on him to begin with, but the weight loss puts his muscles on stark display. Salt crusts along his skin and I can only imagine how that feels on his burns.
“Don’t row anymore,” I say before I can stop myself.
East’s quiet for a moment, before heaving a sigh and turning to face me. “I’m not stopping.”
I bite my bottom lip as it begins to tremble. “East, please.”
His eyes run over my face, concern clear in his expression, and he shakes his head no.
“You’re hurting yourself!” I cry out, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I can’t stop,” he says solemnly.
“You’re going to die,” I sniff, hating how dramatic I sound, but I can’t help it.
He scoots closer to me, wincing as his skin pulls with the movement. “If I die it’s going to be from trying to find safety. I can’t wait around for help.”
“But—”
East’s face is suddenly right in front of me. “I know you can’t see yourself, but you’re skin and bones. I can see your fucking ribs. I’m not going to sit here while we both waste away. I’m not giving up.”
Gasping from trying to contain my sobs, I turn on my side and try to calm down. I know he’s right, but it all seems so hopeless. We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s been a week. I can feel my body self-cannibalizing. My tongue is swollen from thirst.
Just live, squirrel.
“Ok,” I murmur softly, but he hears me. Of course he does. What else is there to hear? Besides my heart breaking for the both of us. I drift off to sleep, promising myself that I’ll get up and help him tonight.
We float between being asleep and barely conscious for the rest of the day. I have a love-hate relationship with the sun. I love seeing it break over the horizon because it means we made it another day, but I hate how it sucks the life out of us. Nighttime has become our day.
It begins to get cooler outside and I crack my lids to see the sun is setting. East’s already moving about the boat, refusing to let even a second go by during his time to row. I sit up slowly—my head weighs the same as a bowling ball these days—and crawl out of our makeshift nest.
By the time I make it over to our half eaten protein bars, East’s already seated and rowing.
“Did you eat?” I rasp, taking a small bite. Flavor bursts over my tongue and I have to will myself not to take another. I’d probably spit it out anyway. It’s so hard to chew when my tongue seems to take up all the room in my mouth.
East shakes his head, eyes focused behind me as the sun sets back into the sea.
I grab his bar, pulling the wrapping down enough for him to take a bite, and move over to him. Holding it up, I glare until he takes a bite from my hand.
&
nbsp; “You need to eat, East. Especially if you’re doing this,” I admonish, and he gives me a slight nod, still not looking at me.
I wonder where he goes while he does this. He slips into a trance and everything around him ceases to exist. I wish I could do the same.
I take his shirt and dip it into the water, scrubbing it against the sides of the boat, doing my best to get it clean. It’s covered in sweat, my blood, and fish guts. I shouldn’t be dipping it into the water, but at this point neither of us care anymore if predators come.
Sharks visit nearly every night, doing nothing more than circling before disappearing to find their food. They seem only curious and we do nothing to invite them any closer.
I take off my shirt, turning away from him since I’m braless. Why couldn’t the boat have sunk during the day, when we weren’t in our pajamas? I preserve some of my modesty, but to be honest I no longer care if he sees me. He’s already seen me at my absolute worst.
I scrub my shirt the best I can and slip it back on, shivering as the water sleuths down my skin. The temperature plummets during the night and I wonder if it’s a good idea to be wet, but my skin is too dry and hot for me to care. It feels good so I’m going to do it.
I settle back and stretch my feet out, grazing them against East’s. Despite my earlier complaints, we’ve both become accustomed to touching one another. I think it’s to remind the other that they aren’t alone. At least, that’s why I do it. Feeling someone warm and solid near me when we are surrounded by nothing…it’s the only safety I know anymore.
I’m about to apologize for my earlier tantrum when something calls out in the distance.
I jump to my feet, heart pounding so hard I feel lightheaded, and listen for it again. My ears strain as I try to listen over the sound of the paddles disturbing the water, the lapping of the water against our boat, the sounds of our breathing…and there!
“East!” I call out excitedly, moving around him. He doesn’t move, lost in whatever place he goes to when he rows. I turn around and sink my hands into his hair, before gently tugging to get his attention.
