Sharks & Boys

by Kristen Tracy

  Dale jumps into the water first. His head is barely visible above the rolling waves. We all need to jump now, or we’ll get separated. I know this. But I’m unable to follow Dale over the side. I want another choice.

  “Are you ready?” Wick asks.

  I look down at myself. My skirt sticks to my legs. They’re so cold that they don’t feel like my legs. I reach down and touch my thigh. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.

  Wick yells to Dale to get ready, that Skate is coming in next. The wind churns the sea, and this sound along with the wind itself absorbs all the noise around me.

  I see Skate’s body and blond head bump against the ship as he falls into the ocean. It looked like a painful drop. That is not the way I should fall. When I go in, I need to push off from the boat. On the ship’s side I can see the word Gretchen written in loopy cursive letters. Why couldn’t she have been a stripper? And now I’m crying again, like this boat is a real person. She is going to sink to the bottom of the ocean and stay there forever. After all the time it took to make her. After all the money it took to buy her. She’ll rot. Disintegrate. She’ll be nothing. This is so sad. I may never stop crying. It must be part of witnessing a disaster. You’re full of all these feelings, and none of them make total sense.

  Before Wick jumps, he grabs my hand. “We should go together,” he screams. “Let go of your shoes.”

  I shake my head.

  “Enid, stop thinking like a girl. You don’t need your shoes.”

  Rain drips off his chin and spills down his chest. I want to disagree with him. I don’t know that I’m thinking like a girl. I’m thinking like a considerate borrower. The shoes aren’t mine to leave. Before I can say this, my feet slip. I almost slide into the water.

  “Drop them!”

  I let one fall, but I keep the other one tucked under my arm. Wick doesn’t notice. I let Wick take my hand. My body must be full of adrenaline. Wick’s firmly holding the hand I cut, but it doesn’t hurt. It actually feels good. His fingers wrap around mine, and his touch is solid and strong. He jumps first and tugs me in after him. But when we hit the water, we split apart. At first, I panic. I swing my arms out, trying to find him. But a wave crashes over my head, and my open mouth takes in water. I can’t panic. I need to swim. I know how to swim. I can do this.

  Enid, you’re a fish, I tell myself. I roll onto my stomach and extend my arms and legs. The water feels warmer than the air. It feels good to be in the water. The waves are powerful, and I have to learn to ride with them. But I can do this. My main concern is to get away from the ship. I don’t want it to pull me down when it sinks. And I think I can feel it. I think I can feel the ship sucking the ocean down around it. With my head down, I take long strokes. I’m moving in the direction that I last saw Wick. I keep going. I don’t look up.

  I’m worried about Sov and Munny. For some reason, they both flicker through my mind. They’re not strong swimmers. I saw them once in the pool. They weren’t exactly flailing, but they didn’t have any fluidity about their movements. They will not be able to swim under these conditions. I kick harder. Does this mean they’re going to die? That just like Gretchen, they’ll sink to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and rot? I continue to unleash powerful kicks. I need to feel like I’m making progress. Now is not the time to think about Sov and Munny or what I’ll tell their bereaved parents.

  Where’s my brother? I need to find Landon. And Wick. I strain to keep my head high enough above water. The tall waves lift me up. I must be climbing an entire story. Then they flatten. I feel fragile. The sea picks me up and drops me down. I search the curling ocean for Landon and Wick. I don’t see anybody. The possibility that I’m alone fills me with terror. I swim back the way I came. The water continues to pick me up. The waves crest with deafening noise. It is so dark. The sea is so big.

  As I return to the sinking ship, I see something yellow bobbing in the water. I know that it must be a person. I think of Sov and his yellow shirt. It must be him. He’s not dead. I’m not alone. I can do this. I take a deep breath and push through the rough water, trying to reach that yellow mark, as something like happiness comes over me.

  One of the first and most vivid memories I have in life is being surrounded by water when I was six. My father and I were seated on a giant plastic swan in a pond at an amusement park.

  At the last minute, Landon had refused to board his swan. He felt that it looked like a sissy. “I want to ride a boy bird,” he said.

  “That one is a boy bird,” my mother said.

  But Landon wouldn’t get on the swan.

  “It looks like it’s about to lay an egg,” he said. “Boys don’t do that.”

  My mother stayed with him. My father was amused. I wasn’t concerned about any potential egg-laying issues. I felt perfectly safe. He held my hand as we pedaled with our feet and circled the pond. At first, I liked it. I was on top of the water. I could reach in and touch it with my hand, drawing my fingers across its surface. But our swan was broken. We were supposed to be able to steer it by using a knob in the center console. On our first attempt to turn, it broke off in my father’s hand.

  Our swan’s rudder was stuck, and we pulled to the right. We began to drift past the roped-off area. Fear overwhelmed me. I didn’t know how to swim. On the dock, I could see my mother and Landon waving. They thought we were fooling around. They didn’t understand that we couldn’t get back to them. Our swan continued to drift.

  Eventually, we approached a large stone wall. I closed my eyes. The plastic beak rubbed against the rock-hard surface. When I finally looked, there was a long black scuff mark. Beneath its black paint, our swan’s beak was a dull pink. The scraped patch resembled a wound. I was sure it was the end for us and the swan. I remember thinking that, like stones, we were all going to sink to the bottom of the pond. Would I ever see Landon or my mother again? No. I folded my hands in my lap. The water now felt dangerous.

  My father kept telling me not to cry, that we would be okay, that he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to me. He said that we would look back at this and laugh.

  Finally, a man with a long hook arrived. He stood on the sidewalk that wrapped around the pond and leaned over to reach us. He caught our swan by its neck and dragged us back to the landing area. Once it was over, the man with the hook gave me a hug and a coupon for a snow cone. I chose a cherry one, and after I ate it, I threw it up. On the way home, I threw up again, in a paper bag in the backseat. Landon rubbed my back.

  “It was trying to get to the grass to lay its eggs,” he said.

  “No,” my mother said. “She just broke.”

  Landon leaned his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Girl birds are very dangerous.”

  My mother heard him. “Boy birds are just as dangerous as girl birds,” she said sternly.

  The following week, my dad enrolled Landon and me in swim classes at the YMCA.

  As I move toward the yellow mark several yards in front of me, I think of this swan, and am grateful for it and the swim lessons. The yellow something isn’t Sov’s shirt. It’s a life jacket. Two people are holding each other. One is wearing the jacket. It’s Munny and Sov. They see me and yell for me to come.

  “Where’s Landon?” I ask. Waves splash over my face. My eyes burn from the salt and wind.

  “Getting the boat,” Sov yells.

  I turn and look at Gretchen. Only the top of her mast is visible, and it’s going down fast. Soon there is nothing but floating debris.

  “The boat’s gone,” I say. “What do you mean?”

  “The lifeboat is floating away. He’s trying to save it.”

  The idea that there might be a lifeboat to climb into relieves me. Landon is a strong swimmer. Things are looking up. Again I try to lift my head high enough out of the water to see.

  “What about Burr?” I ask.

  “He went belowdecks to call the Coast Guard,” Sov hollers. “We never saw him come back up.”

  Th
is doesn’t make sense to me. I was belowdecks with Wick, Dale, and Skate when the ship began to sink. I know Burr wasn’t there. I continue to tread water and stay close to Sov and Munny. I’m glad they have a life jacket, even if they have to share it. I’m not sure they could stay afloat without it.

  “Where’s Wick?” Munny asks. “And Skate and Dale?”

  I point in the direction of where I last saw them. To my amazement, I see three figures, and one of them has a bright white mop of hair.

  “They’re there!” I yell. “They’re right there!”

  Sov and Munny nod. We all start screaming for them to join us. Slowly, they drift our way. Dale arrives first.

  “Where’s Burr and Landon?” He’s spitting out seawater and his eyes look scared.

  I shake my head. I don’t know where they are. Wick swims toward us. Skate is with him. Skate doesn’t look totally here.

  “Help him,” I yell to Dale.

  Dale reaches out and pulls Skate toward him. He holds him with one arm, helping him stay afloat.

  I turn my head back to Sov and Munny.

  “What direction did Landon go?” I ask.

  Munny is shivering. He raises his arm and yells, “That’s him!”

  I follow Munny’s hand. Many, many yards away I see a person. Whoever it is has a hold of an overturned rubber raft. I set off toward him. My limbs are heavy. I thought catastrophes were supposed to make people feel superhuman. Like they can lift cars off babies. That’s not what my body feels like at all. I could use a nap. And a lot of Diet Coke. Maybe some pizza.

  I get close enough to the raft to see that it’s Landon. But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the spot where Gretchen went down. There’s nothing there now but ocean. I swim to him and touch his arm. When he looks at me, his eyes become very sad. He shakes his head.

  “Oh God, am I dead?” he asks. He starts to cry and slap the water. “I don’t feel like I’m dead,” he shouts. “I feel like I’m still trying.”

  It takes me a second to understand why Landon is saying these things. He never knew I was on the boat. He doesn’t understand why I’m here.

  “You’re not dead,” I scream. I hook my left arm onto the raft, and with my right hand I gently touch his face. “I drove down from Vermont. I snuck onto the boat. I sank too.”

  His eyes still look very sad.

  “It’s bad,” he says. “This storm.”

  “But you saved the raft!”

  He shakes his head.

  “No. It’s just the empty dinghy. The raft with provisions and a beacon blew away. This is nothing.”

  I try to hug him with one arm.

  “It’s something,” I say. “Let’s flip it over and get inside.”

  He shakes his head again. His teeth are chattering.

  “It’ll blow away. The wind will catch her and send her off like a kite. That’s what happened to the other raft. I’m lucky I snagged this at all.”

  “Let’s try,” I say. I want to get out of the water.

  I’m tired of treading to stay afloat.

  “No, Enid. It’s a bad idea. We’ll try it after the storm.”

  I keep holding on to the raft. It’s fully inflated, and there’s no give in its plastic sides. It would be easier if my hands were bigger. To secure a firm grip, I feel like I’m trying to palm a basketball. It’s almost easier not to hold on. I let go.

  “Hold the rope,” Landon yells. “You need to save your energy.”

  “The rope?” I reach for it and dangle from the raft. We kick toward the others.

  “Skate is hurt,” I say.

  Landon nods.

  “He fell,” I yell. I don’t tell Landon that I think it was my fault.

  “Don’t talk. Just kick,” he says.

  I do as he says. He thinks that we have to wait to turn the raft over. He thinks that the storm will end. When I look around at the wild waves, I find it hard to imagine that this will ever end. The waves and wind feel strong enough to last forever. Dale swims over and grabs hold of the raft too. He also suggests turning it over. Landon explains why we can’t. Dale isn’t happy.

  “Who died and made you captain?” Dale shouts.

  “Burr!” Landon says.

  I feel sick. I can’t believe what Landon has said. Burr can’t be dead. He’s somewhere. We just have to find him. Sov and Munny meet up with us and attach themselves to the raft. They are smiling. It’s a weird picture to see them sopping wet, clinging to each other in the middle of the Atlantic. They don’t belong in this disaster. They are two people I always expect to see safe and dry.

  Landon lets go of the raft and swims to Wick. Together they pull Skate over. He seems a little better. Once they get him here, he’s able to hold on by himself. He’s looking around for Burr. He closes his eyes, then asks, “Where is he?”

  “We don’t know,” Landon yells.

  Skate leans his head against the side of the raft. He’s crying. “It’s my fault,” he says. “I’m the one who wanted to go out on the water.”

  He starts to cry harder, and I look away. I turn my focus to the sea. I don’t believe that Burr is dead. I believe that he’s out there somewhere. If I look hard enough, I’m sure that I can find him.

  My body shivers and I can’t make it stop. It’s kicked into survival mode. I know from a weekend survival class for an overnight snow trip that I took my freshman year that when a body drops below its core temperature, it will shiver in an attempt to warm itself again. The average body, if it’s healthy, runs a temperature of 98.6 degrees. Our class instructor was a retired firefighter named Mr. Husky. I can hear his exact words.

  If your temperature drops to ninety to ninety-five degrees, it’s considered mildly hypothermic. Dropping to eighty-six to ninety degrees is moderately hypothermic. Less than eighty-six degrees is severely hypothermic. It’s potentially fatal. Wet conditions are the most dangerous. Get to a dry place immediately and remove wet clothes. Now I almost laugh at that suggestion. I don’t imagine that stripping down to a totally nude state will improve our cause. Instead of a wilderness survival class, I wish I had signed up for ocean safety.

  Sov and Munny have just finished yelling for Burr. It’s my turn. “Burr! Burr!” I don’t recognize my voice. It’s the most desperate sound I’ve ever heard. “Burr!” I won’t stop screaming because I know he’s out there. I yell his name over and over. Nothing happens. I hear Sov and Munny yelling again. My voice grows so thin, I stop. After a few more tries, they stop.

  I am so close to Sov and Munny I can hear their teeth chattering. They are the thinnest of all of us. They lack muscle and precious body fat. I’m the next thinnest. I think of all the cake and pies and cookies and marzipan I never ate. I wish I had devoured them. Being a size six here is of no use to me. I wish I weighed twenty pounds more. I wish my thighs were more squatty. In addition to being warmer, I’d also be more buoyant.

  “I can’t scream anymore,” I tell Landon.

  “It’s okay,” he says. He screams a few times, but stops.

  “We’ll drift together?” I ask. “Right? Once the storm dies down we can find him then?”

  Landon looks surprised by my question. “I don’t know where he’ll end up.”

  When is Landon going to learn that sometimes in life it’s better to lie?

  “I’m so cold,” I tell him. He nods. It’s not just the water, it’s the wind. I think about telling him that, but I’m so cold that it’s actually difficult for my mouth to form words. We’ve been in the water less than an hour. I need to stop complaining, because there is nothing anyone can do.

  I turn around and look at Sov and Munny.

  “Have you decided to stop yelling for Burr?” I ask. I sound like I’m accusing them of something. I’m not.

  “We’ll try again later,” Munny says.

  I don’t like hearing this, but I don’t start screaming again either.

  We’ve arranged ourselves around the raft so that we make a balan
ced circle. I can’t see Wick, Dale, or Skate. They’re all on the other side. I get ready to turn back around and face Landon again, when I feel a warm patch of water float past me. It feels good. I wish there was more of it.

  “I’m sorry,” Sov yells.

  I don’t understand what he’s apologizing for.

  “I peed,” he says. He looks right at me, mildly ashamed. “Fact of life.”

  That warm water was urine? Great. I can’t believe that I think this, but I actually wish it would happen again. The ocean is robbing my body of heat. As I kick and struggle to stay afloat, my body tries to warm itself, but the sea won’t let it.

  At one point, a large wave comes and knocks me under the raft. I panic. I think that I’m going to drown. Then I realize that beneath the raft is a pocket of calm air. There’s no light. It has an eerie and cavelike feel, but it’s completely out of the storm. Landon pops his head in to make sure that I’m all right.

  “We should come under the raft,” I say. I don’t have to yell to be heard. Within these plastic walls, there’s no wind. “We should get out of the wind.”

  “Good idea,” he says.

  I exit the shelter and pull myself back into the storm. I need to convince Sov and Munny to go under the raft. They understand exactly what I’m saying, and they lower themselves enough to slip under the raft’s side. Landon has gone to the other side of the raft to explain this idea to the rest of the guys. Even though I want the calm, it’s hard for me to go. Because then I’m not going to be able to look for Burr. I’ll have to admit that he’s really gone.

  I shout one last time for him.

  “Burr,” I scream. “Are you out there?”

  Again I look into the rolling and crashing waves. I don’t see Burr, but I think I hear him. He’s howling. Nobody else is around. I need to tell someone. Then I worry that I may be wrong. In the weekend survival course, Mr. Husky also said that as hypothermia sets in, the mind starts to unwind. Slowly, you go crazy and you don’t even realize it. What does it matter? I need to try. I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s only concerned with saving herself.