The Raft: Chapter 46–Epilogue

If that’s all it was, a hallucination, why exert myself? I was done.

And then, with a snap, I popped off the cap and inhaled the camphor and menthol, then smeared the warm salve on my lips.

My clothes were gone.
A pile of different ones lay on the stainless steel vanity next to the toothbrush.

I rolled on my back and just looked up at the blue sky, shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand as I let the laughter disperse at last.

And maybe he heard me, maybe he understood, because with one shrill call to the sky, he spread his wings, caught the wind, and deftly flapped his way out above the lagoon.

My thumb slid the wheel and a flame popped up, wavering, but steady. I held it for a moment, then let it go out.

In as soothing a tone as I could muster, I said, “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help you.”

As soon as I touched her, she flinched and tried to turn her head to see me, but she was so entangled, she couldn’t.

I would save him for when I really needed someone. I would ration him.

My word, for maybe the only time in my life, would be gospel.

I got back in the bed and shut my eyes, just to appease him, but fell asleep right away.

I walked a little ways down the beach before the burst waned and I plopped down in the sand to rest.

His brow furrowed as he stood there.

There was no one else to refute my story, verify my claims.

I tried to imagine his dilemma. Do you wait for your parents to show up one last time with food? And if you do wait, how long?

So he would float there, until either a shark found him or he just succumbed.

My voice had lost any semblance of calm, and everything that came out of my mouth was high-pitched and childlike and uncontrolled.

With a tentative step, then pause...step, then pause...I kept going.

Despite not wanting to, I entered the water. Wading out to get closer, so I could grab the suit, I hesitated for a moment. The water came up to my ankles, then to my shins.

I pulled the other things out of the bag and set them on the sand. Fantasizing about the chance of a wayward Skittle, I ran my hand inside.

And maybe he heard me, maybe he understood, because with one shrill call to the sky, he spread his wings, caught the wind, and deftly flapped his way out above the lagoon.

I close the cover of the spiral notebook and, for the last time, read the magic marker note scrawled on the cover.
Max Cameron: Therapy Journal

A white ship with blue writing, right in front of me.
Was it really there? Was it just a mirage?

The trip to the beach took a while. I had to stop three times to rest. Once there, I found my makeshift knife and stood over Starbuck, my heart pounding.

With a hand, I grabbed ahold, and the buoyancy helped me right myself. I took a firmer grip of the arm, trying not to think about what I was holding, and starting kicking for shore.

I stood and went to check if my containers had anything left. One of them had enough so I could have a long drink of the tepid, stale water.

The Survival at Sea adage flashed in my head: Eat any bird you can catch.

I walked over to the highest dune; the pile of wood still lay where it had rolled down. I started piling it up, constructing a signal fire. When I had a good pile, I tucked in some dried grasses from gooney nests as tinder.

Midway didn’t even have a church. We did have a white cross though, on an edge of the island, overlooking the lagoon. A metal plaque on it said something about the cross being 140 miles from the international dateline and that, traditionally, the world’s last Easter sunrise service was held there every year.

I hated to get any nearer and scare her, but on closer inspection, she was wrapped up in a whole network of the net, like she’d swam right into a pile of marine debris and become ensnared.

When the last guffaw finally faded, I found myself spent, but relaxed, calm even.

I shook my head and glanced at the pink label before taking a drink. Strawberry. I’d never tasted anything so amazing in my life and I wanted to guzzle it all.

Even though the shower was probably standard for a NOAA research vessel, sort of tinny and small, I was so happy to be in it.

She made whole wheat dough in the bread maker, let it rise, then rolled it out and slathered it with barbecue sauce, chunks of bacon, grilled chicken, cheese, and some drips of ranch dressing.

I could empathize with that.