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.
“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.
He leans into me and turns his face to me, looking sleepy and out of it. My breath stalls at this move and its familiarity, but then the sound is there again.
He blinks and coherence seeps back into his gaze as he straightens. “Is that…?”
My eyes fill and I blink them away quickly. “I think it’s a bird. Maybe a seagull?”
“I don’t know, but if there are birds they have to land somewhere, right?” His eyes gleam frighteningly in the moonlight; he turns back around and begins rowing in earnest now.
“Let me help,” I demand, but he shrugs me off.
“No; wind up the flashlight and see if you can see something up ahead. I don’t want to run into rocks or something,” he says instead, and I don’t bother pointing out we have a tiny flashlight, not a damn searchlight.
I do as he asks, moving behind him again to the front of the boat and point the light out ahead. It’s swallowed almost instantly by the dark, but I glance above us towards the moon and see clouds hiding most of its light. I will them away, praying the moonlight to guide us.
I focus the light towards the sounds of birds instead, hoping to catch a glimpse. My grip on the flashlight is almost painful as I pin all my hopes on them being seagulls. They can’t travel too far from land, right? So we have to be close.
We have to be.
If this is all some crazy hallucination and there’s nothing—no, there will be land. Don’t lose hope yet, I urge myself. We’ve survived this long; we can do this.
“See anything?” East asks, hope high in his voice.
“Not yet, but listen.” I close my eyes in order to focus on the sounds of cawing. “It sounds like there’s more than one now. We have to be close to something, right?”
“Yes, let’s just hope it’s land and not some dead whale.” He laughs quietly, but my stomach sinks at the possibility.
“No, it has to be land. Even if they travel to a dead whale, they’d have to go back at some point.”
“I was just kidding, Taylor,” he says softly, but I shake my head anyway.
My hope is so fragile, even joking could shake it. I’m not strong like him, believing this entire time there would be land.
But it doesn’t come quickly or even this night.
I fall asleep holding the light ahead of us and my dreams are filled with sandy beaches, coconuts, and shade.