Page 157 of The End of the World As We Know It
“Look!” she said, pointing skyward.
The Boat Man wasn’t worried. He calmly called out instructions to help stay clear of the storm that Edmund was still eager to follow, hopping around like a monkey. Marie said, “Aye, Aye, Captain” like Edmund, helping to tie everything down as the Boat Man told her—just in case. After a time, when the clouds filled the sky in every direction and the wind picked up, the Boat Man wanted them to “reef” the three sails, furling them to a much smaller size to capture less wind. The job took all three of them lashing ropes, and they worked so efficiently that Marie didn’t worry even as the skies grew dark too early in the day. She eyed the emergency dinghy lashed behind the boat and felt reassured by its sight. Her stomach lurched with the waves, but she had faith in her crew.
Lightning made the clouds glow. Thunder was a giant stalking above them.
But when the rain came, they opened their mouths and savored it, all of them drenched.
And that was all. The rainfall slowed, then stopped, and the Boat Man steered toward a wide gap in the clouds promising calmer skies ahead for the night sail. Marie could not have been prouder of their group—herself most of all. She’d had a nightmare about a storm, yet she hadn’t lost her head when a storm appeared. Her dreams didnotcontrol her.
The good feeling stopped as soon as she gave in to sleepiness and went down to her cabin, a bit unsteady on her feet as the boat swayed. Edmund was already inside, and she was surprised to see half a dozen guns spread across the bare cushion. The overhead bulb might havebeen loose, making Edmund’s movements look herky-jerky as he whipped around to look at her with accusation in the unsteady light.
“Did you take it?” he said.
“Take…?”
“My nine-millimeter is gone,” he said. “My Glock. It’s my favorite.”
“Are you sure you brought it?” The guns on the bed looked alike to her, only different colors. He had referred to each of them as his favorite at one time or another.
“Then it washim,” Edmund said, ignoring her question. “He came in here and went through my stuff and he took it. Hestoleit!”
His voice was rising. The familiar clenching returned to Marie’s stomach, worse than the storm—that feeling that everything could go horribly wrong in an instant—so she rested her hands on Edmund’s bare, sun-reddened shoulders the way she had imagined Granpè Jean comforting her. She tried to transfer reason to Edmund by osmosis through her palms.
“Edmund… everything has been fine so far. You’re working great with him.”
He yanked away from her, probably more violently than he’d meant to. She’d forgotten how much his sunburn must hurt. She lost her balance, bracing herself against the wall. “That doesn’t mean he can touchmystuff. He hasno right! We don’t need him with us anyway! You know he looks at you funny, right?”
“Shhhhh,” she said. She didn’t want the Boat Man to hear and come down to their cabin. In his current state, Edmund might pick up the closest gun and shoot him. How had she lulled herself into believing everything would be fine? Edmund was Edmund. (Anddidn’tthe Boat Man look at her funny? Edmund had noticed it, too.)
“I’ll go up and talk to him,” she said. Even as she said it, rain pelted the boat again, and the rocking grew urgent beneath her feet. The Boat Man had stayed above to keep an eye on the weather, and the deck was the last place she wanted to be.
“Yeah, let’s go right now—” Edmund said.
“Let me go alone. If he took it, IpromiseI’ll get it back.”
In the flickering light, Edmund’s face seemed to be squirming with his desire to hurt the Boat Man. “And he better say sorry! And he better never do it again!”
“Yes, yes,” she said. “I promise. Give me five minutes. Okay? Just stay right here.”
He bit his lip so hard that she thought he might draw blood. Then Edmund nodded. Thank goodness he trusted her; she still had that, at least.
Edmund snatched a gun from the bed and thrust this toward her. “Take this.”
“Stop it, Edmund—I won’t need it.” She mostly said this to show him what trust looked like, but she regretted it as she moved toward the galley empty handed. What if the Boat Man had taken the gun? Edmund was fanatical about his weapons, so she doubted he had counted wrong. She tried to imagine how a conversation might go if he argued. She would smile and be polite.
—I’m so sorry, Captain, but you have to give it back.
—I thought we said share and share alike. Y’all ate my eggs today.
—The food, yes. My water. Just not Edmund’s guns. Not unless he says so. He’s very sensitive about them. They belonged to his family. They’re like heirlooms to him.
–Oh, okay, I get it. Here ya go, girlie.
Hearing the conversation in her head made it feel plausible. She wouldn’t mind if he called hergirliethis time, as long as he gave her the gun. As long as he didn’t turn out to be a mistake so soon.
Marie had just sighed away the tight feeling of dread in her chest when the room tumbled like a carnival ride to one side, bending her over the galley table with anOof!as the water cartons and dishes crashed to the floor. Edmund cried out from the cabin, his guns clanking as they scattered and fell. She heard thethunkof him landing hard, too.
Beyond the door above her, the Boat Man yelled and cursed. Something about a sail.
