The guys can’t stay here forever. Once they leave, I’ll leave. Problem solved. I keep trying to get comfortable, but the Subaru keys dig into my skin near my hip bone. They’ve clawed a hole in my skirt pocket, which annoys me to no end. I hate damaging borrowed goods. I take the keys out of my pocket and set them on the sink next to a small rectangle of soap. The shabby beige bar looks like the kind that you get for free in hotels. When I think of hotels, I think of the Sheraton and my mother, whom I should never have left. I feel like crying. If anyone opens this door, I’m going to look like that stereotypical teenage girl who has a public meltdown and loses her mind. The one who spends her entire high school existence trying to live down her reputation for being freaky. But she never quite gets there.
Time has passed, but I’m not sure how much. I fell asleep, sitting right here on the can. Miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner are scattered at my feet. The car keys have slid into the sink’s bowl along with the beige soap. Waves must rock ships even when they’re tied to the dock. I reach to pick up the bottles, but the ship jerks and they slide out of my grasp. I also lose my balance and fall onto the floor.
“The door’s locked,” Sov states loudly. “I can’t get it open.”
I reseat myself on the toilet. This isn’t good news.
“Pee off the side,” Dale says.
I’m surprised by that suggestion, because the other boats in the marina are so close to this one; it seems indecent. But then again, it’s Dale’s suggestion, and when it comes to decency, he lacks a lot.
“I’m not pissing in the Atlantic in this storm,” Sov says.
“Dude, if you fall in, I’ll personally toss you a life preserver,” Dale says. “You know how to dog-paddle, right?”
They must be standing in the kitchen area, because I can hear them just fine.
“There’s sharks,” Sov says.
This makes no sense to me. We’re in the harbor; we’re not in the Atlantic.
“Pee off the side or hold it. I’m not going to jimmy the lock when I’ve already given you a better solution.” I hear Dale climb the stairs, and his voice grows softer. “Burr and Skate want to watch the sunrise from the water.”
That sucks. This means that the ship is actually out to sea. That I’m actually out to sea. Now there’s no sneaking off. I’m here. I’m stuck on this thing until morning. And Sov is going to pee himself and it’s all my fault.
The boat jerks again. I can’t let Sov wet himself. Or risk falling into the Atlantic. Even though it’s completely stupid of me, I decide to open the door.
“Sov,” I whisper. “Sov, come here.”
He stands before me in flip-flops, jeans, and a pale yellow polo shirt.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Why are you so dressed up? What’s wrong with your hair?”
“Keep your voice down,” I say. I reach out, grab hold of his arm, and ignore the hair question. Hasn’t he ever heard of humidity? “Listen, I came from a wedding. I realize that I’m overdressed. You can come in here and use the toilet, but you can’t tell anyone that I’m here, okay?”
“Are you here to see Wick? Is this about your breakup?” Sov asks.
“So, he’s mentioned it?” I ask. “Did he call it a breakup or did he say we were on a break? Because there’s a huge difference between those two things.”
“Enid, I have to pee.”
“Okay, but don’t tell Wick I’m here. I drove down because I thought I had some things I wanted to discuss with him, but I’ve rethought it. Once we dock, I plan to leave and wait to talk to him back in Vermont.”
“Good idea,” he says.
I nod.
“Okay,” he says. “But I can’t use it with you in here.” He’s biting his bottom lip and he looks like he’s in pain.
“Yeah, but where do you want me to go?” I ask. “I need to stay hidden.”
He twists out of my grasp and turns around. I think it’s over, that my cover is blown. Instead, he comes back holding a wicker clothes hamper.
“Hide in here,” he says.
I look at it and know immediately that I’m too tall to fit.
“I’ll cover you with this,” he says, holding up a sheet. “We’ll put you in the corner. I need to use the toilet and I won’t pee in the Atlantic. That’s dangerous.”
I hurry out of the bathroom and bang my shin on a bolted-down chair. I pick up the hamper and move it to the corner next to the full-size bed and climb in. Sov hands me a pillow and tosses a sheet over me.
“Thanks, Enid. I won’t tell anyone.”
Sov enters the bathroom and shuts the door. I feel like a decent human being for putting him out of his suffering. The wicker pokes through my shirt, and scrapes against my bare legs. Also, my left ankle is wrenched into an unnatural and painful position. I would make a lousy magician’s assistant.
Sov exits the bathroom and thanks me again.
I lift my head out of the hamper, like a slow-moving jack-in-the-box, and tell him, “No problem.”
After he’s gone, I settle back down. As I sit in the hamper I contemplate which is worse: getting caught in the bathroom, or being discovered scrunched-up in the dirty clothes basket. Each one comes with its own distinct humiliation. I’m getting ready to crawl out of the hamper and retreat to the toilet again, when the boat jerks suddenly, knocking the hamper over.
I clunk onto the floor, banging my head pretty hard. The ship lunges the other way—violently—and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Jesus! Skate, we need to go back to shore,” Landon yells.
I know things are serious. I’ve never heard Landon yell like that before. Because I don’t know what to do, I stay on the ground halfway inside the hamper. The boat keeps rolling me around on the floor. I can’t control where my body goes. I knock into every wall, and things from the kitchen cupboards begin to shower down on me. Glass jars break open. A coffee can topples onto my head, and the plastic lid pops off, caking my hair in a dark, bitter powder.
Upstairs, the wind is howling. I can hear the guys yelling at each other. I crawl off the floor and sit on the bed. It’s cold, and the air is thick with mist. I feel very alone. Maybe I should go upstairs. Does it matter if I get caught? The boat lurches up and down. It feels like we’re free-falling from one tall wave to the next. One plunge is so bad, I actually slam against the ceiling, banging the barrette into my scalp.
As I hold my aching head, I see water begin to tumble down the stairs. This is hard for me to process. It feels like I must be dreaming. I don’t know why, but I reach down and take off my shoes. I hold them close to me. I don’t want to lose them. They’re my mother’s.
“We’re okay,” Burr yells. “She’s a big ship.”
I hear Wick cry out. But I can’t make out the words that he’s saying. The muddled sounds make my skin goose-pimple and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Burr and Skate are ordering the guys around, telling them to do things with the sails. Dale must be the one steering the ship. I haven’t heard Sov or Munny say anything. I hope they weren’t knocked overboard. Water continues to flow down the stairs. It mixes with all the crud that’s been spilled on the floor, resulting in a nasty-looking soup. How much water can a ship hold? Should I find a bucket and try to bail with it? Is that what people do in situations like this? I stay seated on the bed, hugging my shoes, and continue to watch the water level rise. This is the most interesting thing that has ever happened to me. And I hate it.
“I’ll check on that,” Skate yells.
The next thing I know, I’m looking at his shoes, legs, and body as he rushes down below. As he’s climbing down the stairs, he slips and his legs fly out from underneath him. He crashes into the soup.
“Skate?” I say. I jump off the bed and crawl to his side. I worry that the reason he slipped is because he saw me and was startled.
His head hit the edge of the bottom stair. He’s bleeding.
“Help!” I yell. “We need bandage
s.”
I hear someone running down the stairs.
“They’re slick,” I cry. “Be careful.”
I glance up and see Wick hovering above us. He looks very surprised, and I don’t offer an explanation.
“Enid?” he asks.
“Skate is hurt,” I say. “Where’s the first-aid kit?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
“Find out,” I say.
“It’s not that bad,” Skate says.
“You’re bleeding,” I say. I focus on Skate. I tune out the chaos. I have a job. Fix Skate’s wound.
“I’ve taken worse falls,” Skate says. “Remember that picnic near Quechee Gorge? Way worse.”
“You fell down a gorge?” Wick asks.
I shake my head. “Out of a tree.” I take the sheet that had been used to cover me and rip it into strips.
“I’ll find a first-aid kit,” Wick says.
“It was so obvious the oak could never support that much weight.”
“It became obvious,” Skate whispers.
When I start wrapping the strips around Skate’s head, he breathes in a quick gasp of air. Then his eyes clap closed, and he pushes me away.
“She’s trying to help,” Wick says. He’s returned with the first-aid kit and Dale.
“What’s going on up there?” I ask.
“It’s a storm. Dude, the waves are huge,” Dale says.
“Who’s steering us?” I ask. I’d assumed it was Dale.
“Landon,” Wick says.
“What? He doesn’t know how to steer a ship,” I shout. “This is the third time he’s ever been on a boat.”
“Somebody has to be the captain. Burr is trying to fix the sails,” Dale replies.
“Why did you guys go out to sea?” I ask. “This is so stupid.”
Wick shakes his head. He’s applied some rubbing alcohol to Skate’s wound and is trying to tighten the bandage.
“Enid, what are you doing here?” Wick asks.
I don’t answer.
“He needs to be on the bed. Let’s move him,” Wick says to Dale.
“I can do it,” Skate says.
But I’m not sure that he can. He face looks flushed. His eyes are unfocused. And he doesn’t seem capable of standing up. He attempts to sit, but he lies back down. Together Wick and Dale scoop Skate up and lower him onto the bare mattress.
“Thanks,” Skate says.
“He seems so out of it,” I say.
“He needs water,” Wick says. “He’s been drinking all night.”
“Why did you let him do that?” I ask.
Wick ignores my question. The sloppy sea sloshes around my ankles.
“There’s a cooler on deck,” Wick says. “It has water in it.”
I look up the stairs.
“I don’t want Landon to know I’m here.”
Dale looks at me like I’m the unbalanced teen stalker that I don’t want to feel like. “I think the cat’s out of the bag,” he says.
I shake my head again.
“Enid and Dale, this is an emergency,” Wick snaps. Normally, Wick moves through the world with confidence and optimism. But as I stare at him now, I’m looking at something else. I might as well be looking into Dale’s uncertain and frustrated face.
“Okay,” I say. “I know.”
“Let’s get him some water!” Wick yells.
I don’t move. Dale rushes past me up the stairs. I look at Skate. The blood has already saturated the bandage.
“Should we call the Coast Guard?” I ask.
“I’m okay,” Skate says softly.
“I don’t know how to call the Coast Guard,” Wick says.
The boat pitches to the right, and Wick and I fall on top of each other in the floor’s gross swill.
“There’s glass,” I say. I’ve cut my hand. The pain feels hot, and I hope it’s not too serious. Wick pulls me to him and my head bumps into his mouth.
“Why do you smell like a cappuccino?” he asks.
“I think it’s a combination of my conditioner and that,” I say, pointing to a large floating tin of Maxwell House. The boat jerks again, knocking us away from each other. As I crawl toward him, one of my shoes floats by.
“You came in heels?” he asks.
“I came from a wedding.”
“Why are you here?” he asks again.
I don’t know if I’m supposed to answer him. I can feel myself wanting to cry. I think I’m in shock. The situation around me makes no sense and I don’t know how to process it.
“You shouldn’t be here. This is crazy,” he says.
“I thought ‘Gretchen’ was a stripper.”
“You followed us from Vermont?” he asks.
I close my eyes. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I hear myself say, “I know. I wish I hadn’t come.”
By the time Dale returns, the area below deck is flooded with over a foot of water. Instead of bottled water, Dale is holding a can of Sprite. I’m sitting with Wick on the bed next to Skate. He keeps drifting in and out.
When Wick sees the can of Sprite, he balls up his fist and punches the bed. Skate groans.
“He needs water; he’s dehydrated.”
“I did the best I could. I didn’t see any water. Sprite’s better than Coke, right?”
Wick refuses to take the can. He gets up and cautiously wades to the counter.
“There’s nothing in there,” I say. “Everything’s already spilled.”
Wick opens a cupboard and finds some stuff wedged in the back. He begins emptying it out, pulling random cans and jars onto the floor.
“Dude, you’re making a mess,” Dale says.
“Shut up with the ‘dudes,’” Wick yells. “This is serious.”
I like that Wick is taking charge. Better him calling the shots than Dale.
Skate groans again and I touch his arm. A thin line of blood winds down a crease in his neck, staining his skin and collar an awful red.
“It’s fine,” Skate says.
Things do not feel fine.
“Have you guys ever been out in a storm this bad?” I ask.
Skate closes his eyes. “It’ll be fine. Burr will figure this out.”
The wind and water bang against the ship. It feels like we’re caught in a disaster. And I don’t think of Burr as a natural-born savior.
I’m holding Skate’s hand. He gives mine a squeeze, but it’s not very tight. Absorbed into the sheets, his blood looks so bright.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say. “Wick’s getting you some water.”
The muscles in Skate’s face relax when I tell him this. The boat won’t stay steady; it jostles us in every possible direction.
“Here,” Wick says, holding up a small bottle of spring water.
I turn to Skate and tell him that we found some water. He smiles. Wick struggles to stay standing and returns to the bed. He sits down and unscrews the cap.
“You’ll feel better now,” Wick tells him. “Sobriety will improve everything.”
Skate barely has a chance to swallow before the boat throws us up in the air. It’s the worst wave yet. We all land in a jumble on the bed, and I hear a crash behind me. I turn in time to see the wide window above the kitchen sink shattering. Water is pouring inside. It doesn’t feel real. It looks like a scene out of a movie, when somebody has accidentally broken a large aquarium’s glass wall. I expect plastic lobsters and fake fish to start flooding onto the floor. I expect the director to scream, “Cut.” I jump to my feet. But it’s hard to stay standing. There is a force stronger than gravity trying to pull me down.
“We’re sinking!” Wick yells.
“Who builds a ship with a window?” I ask.
Nobody answers me. I find it hard to believe that we’re actually going down. I watch Wick and Dale pull Skate to his feet and drag him off the bed and up the stairs.
“Enid, come on!” Wick yells over his shoulder.
I’m surprised that I’m still
standing in the water. I thought I was moving. I push my legs through the rising tide. The water is up to my knees, and the boat continues to yank me off balance. I see my shoes floating and pick them up. They’re one of my mother’s most expensive pairs. I can’t leave them. I keep one in my good hand and tuck the other under my arm as I climb the stairs.
When I get on deck, the wind is so powerful that it almost knocks me backward. The rain strikes me so hard that it feels like it could scrape away my skin. The boat lists heavily to one side, and I resist sliding down toward the water. My bare feet squeak against the wet boards as I climb the deck and grab onto the metal railing. I tighten my grip and look over my shoulder at the sinking side of the ship. The sails must be broken. They’re flapping in the wind, stiffly cracking with each strong gust. I don’t know anything about boats. I don’t know if there’s something that I should be doing to try to save the ship. There aren’t any life jackets in sight. I don’t see any life rafts. If I let go of the railing, I’d slide across the deck and fall into the ocean. What would happen to me then?
I turn my head and try to look for Landon, but I don’t see him. I don’t see Burr either.
“Enid, we need to jump off!” Wick yells.
He’s standing by my side, but I didn’t even realize it. Skate is next to him. He’s standing on his own, but he seems unsteady. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to swim.
“Wait!” I cry. “I forgot my keys. How will I get back to Vermont?” Like an idiot, I turn to go get them from the bathroom.
Wick grabs my arms. “I think they’re gone.”
I tug against him. He pulls back.
“Enid! You’re not getting your keys.”
“Right,” I say. I’m not thinking straight. I shouldn’t be worried about it. My mom must have a spare set. I look to Wick and then back to the water. Why am I still thinking about the keys?
Below me, the sea is roiling itself into endless waves. Some of them crash onto the ship and try to wash me away. I keep spitting. Somehow the salty water insists on finding its way into my mouth.
Wick says something else, but I can’t hear him. I’m in shock. Holding the metal railing, looking into the black water, I have the feeling that I’m going to die. I have the feeling that we’re all going to die.
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