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 |  My first ever Writing.com journal. |
| intensely pleased with my new isley brothers cd. krystle is mommy to a brand new betta fish named ellington, whom we rather unwisely carted around all day in the cold, as his purchase was only the second of our many errands. he is purple and pink and i'm his godmother, supposedly, although as yet she doesn't even trust me enough to hold him in his little plastic cup. stefan is well again, and riding like a dream. and i'm two hundred dollars poorer. but happy. go steelers! just kidding. i have no idea what team they're even playing, tomorrow. ***** Days go by before the beach is recognizable again. Kailani's stick pile grows and diversifies; now she wants glass, too, the smoothed-down flashes of green and blue embedded in the sand at three- or four-foot intervals. Her fascination yields her parents' exhaustion, because they have to inspect each piece of glass carefully, fearful of sharp edges. "Look!" she commands each time she finds one. Seven, maybe eight thousand times a day. "Beautiful, sweetie," says Shannon wearily, sauntering behind with arms full of bigger pieces of debris. Splintered wood, ripped-off pieces of tarp. "That one is blue." "Blue!" crows Kailani, reaching for a green one. Her laughter is light and pure, a string of invisible bubbles. Shannon feels a bubble, inside, and drops wood and tarp everywhere. * Aaron is kneeling at water's edge, east side. She runs over with Kailani on her hip, yelling her announcement: "I felt it--" "Her," he corrects automatically, and stands without looking at her. Stands with hands on hips, his thinking pose, staring at the water, virtually ignoring her. She frowns, sets Kailani down on the safe side. "Did you hear me?" she asks carefully. "I said I--" He steps aside, no longer fully obscuring the big, unfamiliar brown thing that's lodged sideways in the sand. She gasps. Kailani does too, but only for the sake of mimicry, as it's something she's never seen before, something whose significance is certainly lost on her. Shannon points, wordlessly. Aaron nods, exhaling one sharp syllable through his bemused smile. "Boat." * It's not much bigger than a kayak, inexplicable in presence and in construction. It's the of the primitive, wood-planked, Robinson Crusoeish variety, nine or ten feet long, a two-seater. Big enough for a couple and a small child. It's obviously a just-for-fun craft, something you'd find at a lakeside camp, with a few sets of initials etched crookedly into its brown flooring. "Basically a curvy raft," observes Aaron, who has been making similar observations all day. He's not the only one. Neither one of them can take their eyes off of it, as though looking away might cause it to vanish--poof--just as quickly as it appeared. "A gift from the storm," adds Captain Obvious, circling its football-shaped exterior, eyes aglow with obsession and plotting. "Do you think it floats?" murmurs Shannon, squatting beside. "Or, I mean, well, do you?" Neither wants to be first to suggest the obvious. The impass has already lasted hours, Kai's halfway through her nap, by the time Aaron surrenders. "Fuck it," he says, turning it upright, pushing it out into the shallowest part of the ocean. Shannon holds her breath as he hops in, anchoring himself with one arm hanging over the side. "So far, so good," he reports. Shannon hands him the broken trunk of a fallen sapling. "Use this," she suggests. A paddle. He steers himself in a line parallel to the shore, cuts an awkward U-turn and guides himself back to his starting point. "Yeah," he says pensively, hopping back out. "But that'd only work in really shallow water. We'd need paddles for pushing actual water aside, you know?" She nods slowly, slinging Kailani over one shoulder. "It's going to get dark soon," she announces. "Let's bring it in, up high enough so the tide won't get it, and give it some more thought tomorrow. Your girl wants her bed, for now." He complies, dragging it up the beach by its stern. He parks it inches from the newly renovated shelter, tying it to a nearby tree like a much-loved pet. * "We don't even know which ocean," Shannon whispers, feeling goosebumps rise along the arm draped over Aaron's torso. "So there's no way of determing how far we'd need to sail. How much food and water to bring. And we don't know if it'll hold our weight, all of us. I mean, we could test it out tomorrow, see how strong it is, but..." Outside, a cricket chirps. Kailani snores lightly. Aaron notices a tiny rip in the shelter ceiling, watches dark clouds roll across the post-midnight sky. Starless night. Nothing to guide the sailors, somewhere. Shannon sighs in conclusion. "I just don't know." "Or," whispers Aaron, "I could go alone." Shannon waits. "To, you know, stake it out, so to speak. Figure out which direction, and how far. And then, when I hit land--fucking anything contiguous to an actual continent--I'd send planes out for you two." "What if they couldn't find us? Just like, you know, nobody has so far?" "Um." Shannon sighs. "Well, would you take Kailani? Because just in case this island is fundamentally unfindable, I'd want her to have a good shot at a mainland life. So, you two would go, and send for me once you got there." Aaron gives his head an adamant shake. "NO. Not without knowing everything about the trip first. And I couldn't pay attention to her the entire time, I'd have to navigate, and row, and watch for weather...I couldn't risk the distraction. And I couldn't risk her suddenly deciding it was time for a cannonball and some splish-splash." Shannon nearly chokes on the sudden lump in her throat. "No, you coudln't." She pauses. "Well, what if just I went?" Aaron snorts. "No, no, no. Hell no. Sharks, baby. Storms. Plus, you're, you're--" He sighs, pulls her arm more tightly around him. "Definitely not. The way I said is the only way it could work. The only way possible." Shannon shudders and gives his waist a squeeze. "Let's sleep now, okay? Someone has to be up with Kai in the morning." They sleep. * Shannon awakens an hour later, looks around. She climbs out from beneath the blankets, re-tucks Kailani, and steps outside. He's out there with the boat, sitting beside it, staring at it with the strangest expression on his face. "I had to come look at it again," he explains, seeing her. "Did I wake you up?" She can't conceal her smile. "Nope," she says, sitting beside him. "It was--well, I wanted to tell you earlier, I started to, but then we were talking about the boat--" "It has to be me. Who sails. You understand, right?" Her smile fades. "You know how important you are, to us. How crucial. Especially..." Frustration sets in; she shakes her head, clearing out the murky thoughts, and starts over. "Give me your hand," she commands. He remembers, suddenly. "Oh--" "Just, right there," she says, positioning his palm at the tender arc just below her ribcage. "A little bit of pressure, little bubbles popping right behind my belly button. Same as before, just earlier. Because I recognize it this time." His face changes. She still can't read it. * He's up at least two more times, outside with the boat. Possibly more than two. Probably. Two is the number of times she wakes with him, the number of times she opens her eyes to find him heading for the door. He returns a few minutes later, each time, and falls back into fitful sleep with one trembling hand on her belly. * She sleeps late, till a few hours after sunrise; finds Kailani playing quietly with her sea glass, and the shelter otherwise empty. "Baby, where's Daddy?" she asks. "He's, he's, he's a fire," Kai answers solemnly, not taking her eyes off her treasures. Shannon looks harder, and realizes she's sorted them into two piles, by color. "Blue!" shrieks Kai happily, pointing at the green pile. "Fire?" repeats Shannon listlessly, standing. Outside, she is greeted with the biggest, highest blaze she's ever seen. Aaron sits Indian-style in front of it, head in his hands. Agape, she nudges him with her toe. "Why--?" He looks up, red-eyed. "Because," he says hoarsely. No sleep, none at all. She can tell. "We can't have temptations like that around. Not when--" He gets to his knees, wraps his arms around her waist and whispers the rest to her belly. She thinks he's crying, down there, and vows to soothe him once she's gotten her fill of watching the fire swallow up their escape. |
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