hinted, Paulo
didn't make it to see another sunset. The worst part was watching the four of
us argue — silently, of course, as this particular freak show had no audio or
soundtrack — about whether to leave him lying in the back of the boat or lay
him in the water and tie him to the boat. My stomach cramped watching Maria and
Cooper get so pissed-off that they came to blows. Maria lost.
I
wanted to vomit watching Cooper carefully pick Paulo up and lay him in the
water where he bobbed, half surfaced-half submerged, with the setting sun
finally giving his pale skin some color.
It was
horrible.
We,
the grown-up versions of the misfits from the juvenile ward at Texas State
Hospital, were not prepared to deal with losing Paulo.
I
bowed my head and brushed my hands at the mythical blindfold over my eyes, not
that it helped. "Okay, okay. Just make it stop."
Laume purred
her satisfaction. The vision stopped and I saw the darkness and the boat and
Laume again.
"You
must say I agree ."
"I
don't know," I said. She had me at such a disadvantage. I did not want
what I just saw to ever happen for real. If Paulo died, if any of us died in
this godforsaken dingy, Billy's Asylum Rats would be quitso for sure and I'm
not sure any of the rest of us would really make it , even if we survived
and got back to dry land.
The
decision was too much for me to handle on my own. "I need to wake my
friends and ask them for their help."
"It's
not a difficult decision. Either you will help me so that I can help you and
your friends. Or I'll just go and find someone else who can help."
"But..."
With
that, Laume let go of the boat and dropped quickly out of my sight — bubbles
gurgling to mark her submersion beneath the dark water.
The
cynical side of me knew she was bluffing; Higher Power or not she answered my
plea because she needed my help at least a fraction as much as we needed hers.
I held tight to that cynicism as I waited to hear Laume surface again. And I
waited. And waited. And the waves around the lifeboat stirred up a notch, like
a song swinging into its bridge. And Paulo started to moan in his sleep — low,
sad, distressed — his face so pale that it nearly glowed in the low ambient
light of the stars. In my memory I saw his lifeless body floating, tied to the
boat, and it was no easier to take as a memory than when Laume had given me the
vision.
"Laume?"
I asked the air. I stood up to see if she might be hovering just below the dark
surface of the water at the back of the boat. There wasn't enough light to see
clearly, but the shapes of the waves gave nothing away. "Come back."
Nothing.
My
inner cynic started to panic.
"Laume!"
My
shout caused Paulo's whimpers to grow louder, but none of the rest of them
appeared to be disturbed by the desperation in my voice. They should have woken
up but were as still as death. Death which might decide to come for Paulo
first, but would get all of us sooner rather than later if we didn't get back
to dry land, food and drinkable water.
Death
that would surely come if Laume didn't come back to help us.
"Laume,
please come back." I looked back up at the sky, tears clouding my eyes so
that the stars streaked together. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please. I need
your help."
Without
a splash or a sound, the lifeboat tilted a bit toward the stern and there was
Laume, perfectly dry and perfectly pretty. "You must say I agree."
My
tongue stuck to the top of my dried-out mouth, trying to prevent me from making
a huge mistake by agreeing to such a blind bargain, but I managed to peel it loose
and say, "I agree."
She
nodded to show that she'd heard me and lifeboat tipped toward its stern, plowing
quickly through the water in the opposite direction of the skittering clouds.
Somehow,
soundlessly and effortlessly, Laume pushed the little boat as smoothly as if it
were being towed off the tail of a gigantic cruise ship. Compared to three days
of hand-paddling and drifting with the wind and tide, it felt
didn't make it to see another sunset. The worst part was watching the four of
us argue — silently, of course, as this particular freak show had no audio or
soundtrack — about whether to leave him lying in the back of the boat or lay
him in the water and tie him to the boat. My stomach cramped watching Maria and
Cooper get so pissed-off that they came to blows. Maria lost.
I
wanted to vomit watching Cooper carefully pick Paulo up and lay him in the
water where he bobbed, half surfaced-half submerged, with the setting sun
finally giving his pale skin some color.
It was
horrible.
We,
the grown-up versions of the misfits from the juvenile ward at Texas State
Hospital, were not prepared to deal with losing Paulo.
I
bowed my head and brushed my hands at the mythical blindfold over my eyes, not
that it helped. "Okay, okay. Just make it stop."
Laume purred
her satisfaction. The vision stopped and I saw the darkness and the boat and
Laume again.
"You
must say I agree ."
"I
don't know," I said. She had me at such a disadvantage. I did not want
what I just saw to ever happen for real. If Paulo died, if any of us died in
this godforsaken dingy, Billy's Asylum Rats would be quitso for sure and I'm
not sure any of the rest of us would really make it , even if we survived
and got back to dry land.
The
decision was too much for me to handle on my own. "I need to wake my
friends and ask them for their help."
"It's
not a difficult decision. Either you will help me so that I can help you and
your friends. Or I'll just go and find someone else who can help."
"But..."
With
that, Laume let go of the boat and dropped quickly out of my sight — bubbles
gurgling to mark her submersion beneath the dark water.
The
cynical side of me knew she was bluffing; Higher Power or not she answered my
plea because she needed my help at least a fraction as much as we needed hers.
I held tight to that cynicism as I waited to hear Laume surface again. And I
waited. And waited. And the waves around the lifeboat stirred up a notch, like
a song swinging into its bridge. And Paulo started to moan in his sleep — low,
sad, distressed — his face so pale that it nearly glowed in the low ambient
light of the stars. In my memory I saw his lifeless body floating, tied to the
boat, and it was no easier to take as a memory than when Laume had given me the
vision.
"Laume?"
I asked the air. I stood up to see if she might be hovering just below the dark
surface of the water at the back of the boat. There wasn't enough light to see
clearly, but the shapes of the waves gave nothing away. "Come back."
Nothing.
My
inner cynic started to panic.
"Laume!"
My
shout caused Paulo's whimpers to grow louder, but none of the rest of them
appeared to be disturbed by the desperation in my voice. They should have woken
up but were as still as death. Death which might decide to come for Paulo
first, but would get all of us sooner rather than later if we didn't get back
to dry land, food and drinkable water.
Death
that would surely come if Laume didn't come back to help us.
"Laume,
please come back." I looked back up at the sky, tears clouding my eyes so
that the stars streaked together. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please. I need
your help."
Without
a splash or a sound, the lifeboat tilted a bit toward the stern and there was
Laume, perfectly dry and perfectly pretty. "You must say I agree."
My
tongue stuck to the top of my dried-out mouth, trying to prevent me from making
a huge mistake by agreeing to such a blind bargain, but I managed to peel it loose
and say, "I agree."
She
nodded to show that she'd heard me and lifeboat tipped toward its stern, plowing
quickly through the water in the opposite direction of the skittering clouds.
Somehow,
soundlessly and effortlessly, Laume pushed the little boat as smoothly as if it
were being towed off the tail of a gigantic cruise ship. Compared to three days
of hand-paddling and drifting with the wind and tide, it felt
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