by Lorin, Terra
“C’mon, let’s go.” And we head out the door. My ears can’t help but focus on the tinkling of her charm bracelet as we scamper downstairs.
Girls.
* * *
“It’s such a beautiful day,” my mother comments as we climb aboard the yacht my father bought several years ago to take us out on these family outings.
My father is big on family doing things together, so we’ve been going on these outings as far back as I can remember. We take a short yachting trip twice a month, and a long two-week vacation to some exotic destination twice a year.
When David was a teenager, he’d sometimes protest, since he’d rather be out hanging with his friends, but Angela and I have always enjoyed the outings, and doing things as a family. He doesn’t protest anymore since he’s gotten older, and enjoys it now as much as the rest of us.
Although I’m five years older than my sister, she has always gravitated to me more than she has to David, who’s only two years her senior. We’re all close, we get along well, but there’s something special between Angela and I, or maybe it’s because I’ve been the big brother who protects her that she always comes to me to share happy moments, or to be comforted when she’s sad. I’ve never known her go do David unless I’m not around.
I thought maybe that would change when she grew older, when she’d rather turn to her friends instead of her older brother, but that didn’t happen, our relationship has never changed. I’m happy for that, because it makes me feel good when I can be there for her and know she values my opinions and advice, or just to be a shoulder for her to cry on, or someone to share her excitement with.
With David, he and I have a different kind of relationship. He’s never come to me for advice, nor to share any happy or sad moments. He and I are buddies, but he keeps most of his thoughts and feelings to himself. He’s not as open to talk about personal things the way Angela does. We’ll talk sports, or about college, and mainly stuff like that. And I don’t pry into his personal affairs, he’ll come to me if he needs to, and I’ll be there for him when he does.
My go-to person for advice, or to share my thoughts and feelings with, is my father. He is to me what I am to Angela. Dad’s never made me feel like a disappointment, or failure. On the contrary, encouragement and support is what he gives me—what he gives all of us. I wouldn’t trade my father for any other. He’s influenced me in so many ways that I can honestly say—he’s responsible for making me into the man I am today.
As far as my mother, she’s as fine a woman as they come. I’m sure I’m biased, but I can’t think of anything I don’t like about her. Oh, wait a minute, there is one thing that I have to admit drives me crazy—she’s a Post-it fanatic.
Especially when I was younger, there’d be a Post-it for what time I should be home after a party, a Post-it reminding me to lock the door, one on the microwave to heat up dinner left in the fridge, another for putting down the toilet seat because poor Angela would fall in when she’d get up in the middle of the night to pee. There’s tons of Post-its on the fridge with phone numbers, dates of events, her various lists. You name it, there’s a Post-it for it—the interior of our house looks like a freaking bulletin board. I swear, 3M must make a bundle just off my mother alone. I’ve had to learn to accept that’s just how she is, because we’re not going to change her. Other than her Post-it fetish, my mom is pretty cool.
Like my father, she’s always been there for us. I know she would sacrifice her life to save any of her children. I suppose most mothers would.
My father’s steering the yacht, heading us towards our favorite cove where we anchor for several hours so we can swim, fish, and hang out to enjoy the day. My mother’s somewhere inside the cabin, I’m lounging on the forward sunbathing deck talking with David about sports stuff, and Angela’s next to us, lying on her stomach with her feet up in the air, getting a suntan, and reading some sort of romance novel.
No matter how many times I offer to steer the yacht, my father, as with his barbecue grill, likes to stay in command of the process. He just won’t give up his captain’s hat.
The cove is only two miles out from the coast we sail off from, so it’s not a far trip anyway. If it were many miles out and took several hours, he’d probably let me take over to give himself a break. But for such a short trip, he enjoys his position at the helm.
We should be pretty close to our destination about now. In fact, I can see we’re nearing the bend into the cove, so we’re only about a couple of minutes away.
All of a sudden, I hear strange sounds.
“Do you hear that?” I ask my brother.
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.”
Before I can even begin to wonder what the hell the noise is, a loud explosion thunders behind me.
What the fuck!
I turn around so fast, I nearly whiplash my neck. In a matter of seconds, fire and smoke ignite the aft of the yacht. My heart thumps wildly as fear and shock surge through me, shooting to my brain as fast as if I’ve had a large dose of wasabi. I look upwards towards the bridge at my father.
“Get the hell off the yacht,” he yells at us and disappears. Oh my God, he’s going to try to save Mom.
Fuck!
The flames are high and spreading fast, while thick black smoke encompasses the air. I can’t believe our beautiful day has turned into a freaking nightmare in an instant.
I turn around to see Angela crying, and David staring at me.
“I’m going to help Dad and Mom,” I tell to my brother. “You and Angela need to jump ship right now!”
David grabs my arm—his grip is strong—and he pulls me back.
“You won’t make it, you need to jump too! We’re close to the cove, we can swim it,” David yells back at me.
My head throbs with fear and panic, but I try to seem calm for the sake of my siblings.
Boom!
There’s another explosion and the cockpit canopy comes down, spewing pieces of burning plastic and vinyl.
Angela screams, and instinctively, I throw my arms around her, shielding her. David does the same as we hold each other, huddling together, encasing our sister like a shell so she’s safe between us.
Small pieces of falling debris land on my skin, searing my flesh, and singeing my hair. It must be the same for David, but like me, he doesn’t make a sound. Our minds and bodies are probably in shock.
The falling debris would’ve been worse for us if we were closer to the cockpit, but since we’re far up the bow, and the light winds are blowing away from us, we don’t get the bulk of it.
This ship is going down in flames fast.
I push Angela towards David as I separate myself from them. He still attempts to shield her, but nothing more showers us at this point.
“Get the fuck off the boat!” I yell to both of them. “And swim to the cove!”
David isn’t moving, and Angela holds on to him as she sobs uncontrollably. What the hell are they waiting for?!
“You can’t save them,” David says, tears streaming down his face.
I look back at the aft section and flames engulf more than half the ship now. Any minute the flames will reach us. Tears now stream down my face—I know he’s right—our parents are dead.
“Let’s go,” I say as I push my brother and sister to the edge of the yacht, and we dive in.
The water’s murky, I can’t see a thing, and although I hear eerie sounds of the crackling wreckage, the most prominent sound is my own rapid heartbeats pounding in my ears.
When I surface, I gasp for breath, and my eyes scan the area for my siblings. Where the hell are they? I feel panic coming on, as I spin around and around—I can’t see them.
Then I hear coughing behind me, I turn, and it’s Angela. She’s about ten feet away from me. Then David appears a few feet farther and to the side of her, but something’s wrong, his face contorts as if in severe pain.
“What’s wro
ng?” I yell out to him.
“I don’t know. The whole left side of my body feels like I’ve got cramps,” he yells back at me, his face wincing with agony.
Goddammit! Why is this happening?!
I look at Angela and she seems like she’s going to pass out. Oh my God, I can only help one of them.
David yells to me, “Save Angela.”
Fuck! How can I leave my brother? But he’s right, I have to save Angela first, she’s weaker, she won’t make it without my help.
I swim to my sister and take her in my arms. I turn my attention back to David.
“I’ll be back for you. Try to hang on, David. Please don’t give up.” My voice trembles.
“I won’t,” he assures me, but it sounds weak—and he’s scared.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I can only hope he has the strength to hold on for me to come back for him.
“Try to back float if treading’s difficult,” I instruct him.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
I focus back to my sister. “Angela, stay calm, I’ve got you, and I’m going to take you to safety. Don’t struggle, just let your body relax, and let me pull you in,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says, her teeth chattering, possibly from the cold, but most probably from her fear— her breath exhales in spurts. I can feel her body trembling, shivering, as I hold her. I slowly turn her so I can tow her in, rescue style.
My breath comes hard and fast, and my adrenalin pumps through me like a bullet train on steroids.
Thank God we weren’t too far from the cove. I estimate I can make it there in five minutes.
“How are you doing?” I ask as my one arm strokes and strokes its way towards shore.
“I’m okay,” she responds. I know she’s as scared as I am, but she’s trying hard to relax her body to make it easy on me to tow her.
When we finally get close enough that I can touch my feet to the bottom, I carry my sister to the beach, and lay her down.
I fall to my knees next to her as my chest heaves with each breath I take into my lungs, gasping for air, trying to recover my energy.
“I’ve got to go back—” I pull in more air “—and help David.” My heart continues to pound and pound, hard in my chest, in rapid successions.
“Please save him, Marcus,” she says as she wraps her arms around my neck in a hug. She’s sobbing, and I want to cry too, but I hold back my tears, needing to stay strong, not only for her but for myself, so I can make it back to David. My arms enfold her, squeezing her tightly to me.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell her as I grasp her arms from around my neck to release our embrace. As I set her arms into her lap, I look down at her wrists—her charm bracelet is gone.
A sharp pain stabs my heart. I want to cry. I want to yell into the air—this isn’t fair!
“I’ll be back with David,” I reassure her, but my words don’t console her, her tears continue to fall.
I leave her sitting there, watching after me, as I hurry back into the water, swimming as fast as I can to where the remnants of my dad’s luxurious yacht lies burning still.
“David,” I yell out. Panic strikes me. I know this is where I left him.
“DAVID!” I cry out again, swimming back and forth, around and around, yelling his name again and again.
Oh God, please don’t do this. Don’t take David away from us too. Please . . . don’t.
“David.” My voice is now a broken and shattered whisper. I tremble uncontrollably.
The air reeks and burns my nostrils with the stench of the scorching wreckage. I’m suddenly aware of the pain of my burns. The death of my dad, mom, and brother hit me as though I awake in a cold shower—of hydrochloric acid.
This time I don’t hold back my tears.
I sob like a baby.
Chapter 5 - Laura
~* Laura *~
“That’s a really nice pendant,” I say to Angela, admiring the delicate filigree heart with intricate etchings. It has a satin finish with shiny polished highlights. It’s very pretty. Whoever gave it to her has good taste. I lean closer to see the words ‘Love You Always’ etched in script. She wears it on a dainty silver chain around her neck.
Angela tilts her head downward and touches the piece of jewelry at my mention of it.
“Marcus gave me this charm. It was originally for a charm bracelet I received for my Sweet Sixteenth birthday. I lost the bracelet in the accident, but this charm had fallen off before we left and was saved that day.” Her expression turns solemn. “Unfortunately, the ones from my parents and David, I’ll never get back.” Tears glaze her eyes.
“I treasured that charm bracelet, and it wasn’t because of anything materialistic. It was like I carried a piece of each of my family with me wherever I went, reminding me of who I was, the people who loved me, who protected me, gave me the courage to be who I was, supported me in my endeavors, and cared about the things that were important to me.”
Tears drop from her lovely brown eyes. My own eyes fill with tears.
“It’s as if that day, this charm had fallen off to spare me the brother who saved my life. I know it’s silly, but a part of me believes that had we found my charm and it had been with me that day, maybe both Marcus and I would’ve died too. Out of all the charms on my bracelet, it was the one Marcus gave me that was spared. It always gives me the chills when I think about it.”
“So, Marcus saved you?” I ask.
“Yes.” She hesitates. Her eyes look straight into mine.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I totally understand. I know it was traumatic for you,” I say, empathizing with how painful the memory must be to recall it.
“It’s okay. Some of it’s a blur, but I remember there was an explosion, our boat caught fire, we went overboard, and Marcus saved me first and went back to try and save David, but it was too late.” She lowers her eyes—I sense she feels guilt.
“David’s death and the guilt of being unable to save him, torments Marcus, although he tries to hide it from me. I’ve heard him cry out to David in his sleep a few times, so I know it haunts him. But he never lets me console him. He’s played my big brother for so long, always the one to be there for me, that he doesn’t know how to accept my help. It tears me up inside that he won’t let me be there for him, the way he is for me.
“When we were kids, David used to tease me and taunt me, and I’d run to Marcus for help. Marcus and I could talk for hours and I could tell him anything, but it wasn’t that way with David. David was more like an average brother would be, but Marcus was also like a best friend or even maybe a mentor. I looked up to Marcus as much as I did my parents.
“Although I knew David loved me as I loved him in a normal sisterly/brotherly way, I never really knew how much until that day when he and Marcus covered me with their bodies so I wouldn’t get burned from the debris of the fire.
“That day I realized both my brothers would risk their lives for me. I can’t keep from crying whenever I think about that. My heart aches every time I think of David and how I’ll never be able to tell him ‘thank you’ and how much I love him.
“What’s written on this charm,” she says as she touches it again, “is from when we were kids I would tell Marcus, ‘Love you,’ and he would reply back, ‘Always.’ We didn’t say it often, just once in a while when in the mood. Now, every night before we go to bed, we say this in case it’s the last thing either of us hear. We no longer take for granted that we’ll have the opportunity to tell each other that, because life doesn’t care who it hurts, it can take someone away from you without a moment’s notice. I never got to tell my parents how much I loved them, or David, and I live with that empty, unfulfilled piece of my heart every day of my life.”
“I wish I had a relationship with my sister like you have with Marcus. And what you had with your parents, with my father. Unfortunately, mine is a dysfunctional family,” I tell her honest
ly.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Laura.” She looks at me with sadness and compassion in her eyes.
“I’ve never felt like my father ever really cared about us. Throughout my childhood, we’ve probably been more of a burden to him. I can’t say that I like my father very much.”
“How about your mother?”
“My mother left us just before my brother killed himself. I can’t forgive her for that. She left us without even a goodbye, no word, whatsoever. How can a mother do that? Leave her family without even telling them why?”
“I can imagine how hard it must’ve been for you and your siblings. Especially, you being the oldest, having to be the one to take care of everyone.”
“Yes. I think maybe that’s why Jade despises me. I’ve had to replace my mom and she resents that.”
“It’s hard to say what goes on in a person’s mind when an emotional crisis happens to them. Maybe it’s not anything to do with you at all, but what she’s going through overall. Unfortunately, you’re just in the line of fire.”
I haven’t known this woman for more than a few days and already I’m spilling out my private life to her—things I don’t talk to anybody but Jules about. Her willingness to open up and share with me makes it seem okay to do the same with her. I’m letting myself be vulnerable and open and it feels good, I feel close to her. There aren’t many people I can do this with. Angela has a genuineness about her that makes me feel comfortable talking with her. And I don’t feel judged—she’s accepting and compassionate. She’s also very insightful for someone a year younger than me, hardly experiencing much of life yet, especially with her agoraphobia keeping her hostage and confined to her home.
“How did you get to be so perceptive?” I ask with a smile.
“I read a ton of books,” she replies with a chuckle. “Also, I’ve learned a lot through Marcus and my parents. My parents used to philosophize about life and they made a huge impact on my brothers and me. What they said made sense, basically. We had a lot of respect for our parents. I guess we weren’t the typical rebellious teenagers.”