Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I’m not sure which way to go.
Even when the sky goes dark with the stars above us to guide, I’m not sure what direction home is in.
It makes me feel useless.
Something I hate.
It’s not that I’m a control freak. Okay, I am, which makes being lost in the ocean my biggest nightmare.
At least if I had something to go by … I’m resourceful, but this is a whole different level of fucked.
Phoenix has been quiet.
Eerily so.
This isn’t easy for either of us, but for me, I’m used to having to survive. I spend every day of my life doing so.
She, on the other hand, doesn’t.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
There is no way to cook out here, but we cooked all the fish we caught before we left. It will most likely taste like shit, but hopefully, it will be enough to give us a chance to live.
“No, not really.”
“You have to eat eventually.”
“I know.”
There isn’t much room in here, but since it’s a six-person raft, there’s enough that she’s on the other side.
“You don’t have to sit so far away.”
“I’m afraid.”
Her words make me tilt my head. “Afraid of what?”
“That the raft will capsize. What if the—”
I shake my hand at her, cutting off her words. “That won’t happen. They built this to last. It has weight stabilizers; it won’t flip.”
“Not even in a storm?”
“Not even in a storm,” I say.
The truth is, that’s how it was sold to me, that it won’t flip in the ocean, but under the right circumstances, it might. I won’t tell her as much. I already know how scared she is.
She weighs my words in her head, and then she moves closer.
Not too close, but close enough that she can rest her head on my shoulder.
From the angle, we both have an unobstructed view of the sky.
The stars above twinkle down on us like tiny tea lights.
I point out into the distance.
“You can’t see it now, but did you know there is a constellation called Phoenix?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s a minor constellation in the southern sky.” I pull back and look at her. “It was obviously named after you.”
She laughs, and the sound lightens the thick air. “Or it’s named after a mythical bird.”
“I like the idea that it’s named after you. A mythical creature who brought down the beast.”
“And what beast are you referring to?”
“Me.”
My hand reaches out and lifts her chin. Our eyes meet. There is little light, but enough that we can see into each other eyes.
“You did, you know.”
“Did what?” she asks, her expression confused.
“You brought down the beast. Made me care.”
“About?” she whispers, her voice low and unsure.
“You.”
In the darkness of the night, the words I have held inside me slip out. Normally, I would hold back, but with the future unsure, I don’t have that luxury. If we are to die here, I want her to know that she changed me, so I tell her just that. “You changed me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did. Knowing you. Spending time with you. Surviving with you … it changed me.”
“You act like we’re going to die out here and these are your last rites …” She narrows her eyes at me, her jaw tight. She doesn’t want to ask what hangs in the air, but she does. “Are we going to die?”
I answer the best I can. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Together, we stare at the stars, and we both stay silent, the weight of all that’s happened sitting heavy on top of us. Through the endless darkness of the night, stars twinkle from above, the vastness humbling. A reminder of how small we are and how fleeting life is. I pull her tighter to me, encasing her in my warmth.
A part of me wishes this moment could last forever, that it could be endless like the glittering sky above us.
I count seconds that pass by the breath she takes, and finally, when her inhales soften, I know she’s fallen asleep.
My mind won’t shut up, though.
Endless possibilities of where I will steer us tomorrow play on a loop.
If we go north, will we find someone?
South?
Not knowing drives me mad. A part of me just wants to leave it to fate. Don’t steer and just hope.
That part of me is foreign. I’ve left nothing to chance. My upbringing fights with my subconscious over what to do.
In the end, I decide I will try to move us northeast. When the sun peeks out against the horizon, I will use it as my guide.
I remember the islands from the map and better than that, civilization.
It might take a few days, but if we are lucky, we might stumble upon about another boat on the way.
There’s no way we won’t.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I close my eyes. I won’t sleep long. Just enough to be ready for tomorrow and whatever it will bring.