Page 44 of Wild Life

“You told me how you crave hu-man bonds because of how lonely you were as a ch-child after your parents died. I under-stand that because when I was sh-shipwrecked here, my parents died.”

“How old were you when you came here?”

“Ten.”

“Damn,” she said under her breath. “And you’ve been living here all this time? Alone?”

“Well, Poaka has been with me for many lifetimes.” I smiled. Poaka and I had been through it all.

The corners of her eyes softened. “Your parents. You said they passed away. Are you sure?”

I nodded, images from the worst day of my life flashing in my head. “My dad died during the acci-dent and his body washed up with us. Ma and I were so scared. Dad was an ad-ventur-er, and loved trips like this.”

“Trips like this?” she repeated.

“Dad loved traveling to remote locations. He was ob-sessed with chasing danger. Sky-d-diving, c-canyon climbing—anything that resulted in a thrill. Ma and I relied on him for his survival know-ledge on our trips. He read maps, or-ganized all the g-gear, and knew how to operate the radio and navigate the c-catamaran.”

She brightened. “You traveled in a catamaran? That sounds so bad ass.”

“It was, until it got him k-killed.”

“Good point. And still, I can’t imagine bringing a kid on those wild journeys. It must’ve been wild.”

“I hated it. We lived in New Zealand, but we left every other m-month for some trip. I missed school often and wanted to stay p-put so I could be with my friends. I wanted life to be b-boring for a bit.”

“You needed a routine,” she offered.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t every kid?”

“I suppose so. I had one with my parents, and then again when I had to go live with my Aunt Sherri, but I still turned out messed up.” Her mind flew far away from the present for a moment before she regained her senses. “So, how did you end up here?”

“We lost signal and were s-stranded at sea. Dad couldn’t p-place where we were because the ra-dar had been down for too long, and we had drifted really far from our last known l-location. Then a storm hit.”

“Of course. Fucking storms! Always Poseidon fucking with humans and laughing.”

“Po-sei-don, the Greek god?”

She pointed a finger at me. “That’s the dude. Vengeful little fucker.”

Half of my mouth tugged upward. A smile. Only she could make me smile.

I had read about him in my copy ofThe Odyssey. Maris could hold a grudge, warranted of course, yet she had nothing on Poseidon. He was the master of contempt.

“So, Daddy Poseidon attacked your boat and then what happened?” Her interest warmed me.

“I don’t really re-mem-ber too much, except Ma screaming and a lot of water f-flooding my nose and mouth. Then I woke up. My face was c-covered in sand and my c-clothes soaked. Ma and Dad were face down on the beach. I woke Ma up f-first and helped her as she choked up w-water. Then I tried to wake Dad up, but he wouldn’t m-move.” The bits that I remembered were as strong as the sun’s rays, burning my mind.

Maris took my hand in hers. “Oh, God, Aleki. That’s horrible.”

I swallowed back tears. It had been a long time since I’d replayed the whole story, and saying it out loud for the first time was difficult. I could smell the sea air, feel the grit against my skin and the hollow pit in my stomach as Ma sobbed over Dad’s lifeless body.

“You don’t have to continue if it’s too hard to share,” she said gently.

I shook my head. I wanted to share. I had kept silent for too long and starting this story had been like opening a dam, all of it ready to pour out. I needed it to pour out. “Ma ended up getting sick. Her skin got really hot, and she looked p-pale.”

“Infection,” Maris suggested. “Perhaps from aspirating water.”

I wasn’t a scientist like she was, so I took her word for it. “She died a week l-later.”

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