“Help!” The first time, all I get is a mouthful of brine that cuts the sound right off. Sputtering and coughing, I spit, trying to get the raw taste of it out of my mouth. I try again, this time waiting for a wave to pass by before I yell. “Help!”
I don’t know who I expect to answer. A guardian angel? A crew member taking a walk in the stormy weather? Captain Chuck? I guess I expect nothing, which is exactly what I get. My voice is lost in the rumble of the storm, carried away by the wind. If someone was standing right in front of me, I’m not sure they’d hear me. It’s only the refusal to give up that millions of years of evolution have instilled in me that keeps me yelling until my throat hurts.
No one is coming. I need to save my strength and try it on my own, before I give up and let go. I’m soaked clean through and my teeth are chattering. My eyes sting, and I can’t tell if it’s the rain or my frustrated tears. The door seems impossibly far away, but I need to make it.
It’s now or nothing. Drawing a deep breath, I let go of the table and shimmy out into the open. Getting to my feet, I cling to the wall next to me, trying to keep my legs from giving out.
I’m never going to make it. Yes, you will. I refuse to end up a tragic footnote in the next issue of ‘Cruising Life’.
Right. I swallow the huge lump in my throat and square my shoulders. Just one last burst of energy, then I’ll be safe. All I need to do is get inside, then I can go back upstairs, take a nice warm shower and pretend this whole thing never happened. Everything’s going to be perfect, or at least no more messed up than it was.
You can do this, Angie.
I go. Running into the wind, it feels like Poseidon’s cold, wet hands are trying to pull me back. I get at least two, maybe three steps, before a wall of water crashes over me and knocks me off my feet. I should’ve counted to seven.
The hard deck knocks the air out of my lungs as I go right on my back. Streaks of pain ratchet through me, making me cry out.
More bruises. Not like it’ll matter if I don’t get back inside. I’m not sure how, when I can’t even get back on my feet. My fingers look for handholds, but there’s nothing, and for several long moments I lie there, buffeted by the water rushing along the deck and trying not to cry. I’m not doing a very good job of it. My eyes close.
Something clutches at my upper arm, and I panic. Images of giant octopi and sharks flash against the insides of my eyelids. I scream, but the grip doesn’t let go, instead pulling me closer. Instinctively, I struggle, until I hear the voice. His voice.
Chapter 29: Angie
“Jesus, Angie. Calm the fuck down. I’m just trying to help. Unless you hate me so much you’d rather drown.” Not waiting for me to answer, Gavin gets an arm under my armpit and pulls me up close.
I cry and cling to him, too exhausted and relieved to even think about being mad at him. “What are you doing here?” My throat is raw, and even this close I’m not sure he can hear my raspy voice.
“How about we talk about that later, when we’re not being washed around and your lips aren’t quite so blue, alright?” Wrapping one arm tightly around me, he grabs the wall next to us for support and pulls both of us up like my extra weight is nothing. Icy water rushes past us across the deck. “Can you stand?”
I don’t answer right away, because I have no idea. I grab his arm, clinging to it for support while I test my legs. When they don’t immediately give out, I swallow and nod.
“Good. We’re going to walk slowly together, alright? I’ll hold along here, and you hold on to me. I’ve got you.” His voice is calm, and I use it to center myself. If he can keep his cool, then I will too. He leans in and speaks in a lower voice. “Are you ready?”
I draw a deep breath, then nod. Surprisingly enough, I trust him.
Without a word, he starts to move, nearly carrying me with him. Water spray and strong winds tear at me as we move slowly forwards. I support myself with my legs and balance as well as I can, but I’m pretty sure that even if I were unconscious he’d still carry me in. Even through our clothes, I feel the strength of him as he brings me to safety.
Several long, wet moments later, he pulls open the door. Its hinges squeak in protest and the wind does its best to slam it shut again, but he grunts and holds it in place, ushering me in ahead of him. As soon as I’m inside, I collapse against the wall, sliding down to the floor, my forehead resting on my shaking knees. My heart’s jackhammering in my chest and my whole face tingles. I can’t help it. I start to sob.
The door shuts with a slam, and I look up through saltwater and tears to see Gavin engaging the lock. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, and especially his t-shirt looks painted on. Even more than usual, I mean.