Chapter 2

It was scary sitting in a rubber boat in the middle of the ocean. At any moment I expected the shark from Jaws to shoot through the surface of the water, his mouth wide open, his pointy teeth bloodied, his black eye staring at me. Maybe my imagination went rampant from boredom since Dad and I had been rowing for hours. Each time I looked over my shoulder the land seemed just as far as it had the previous time. How far was it? Would we make it? Was it a mirage? My shoulders ached and my muscles burned, but I kept rowing.

Blisters formed on my hands. Sweat burned my eyes. I wanted to give up, but my father didn't. I kept rowing.

My mother, still curled up on the floor, worried me, especially since she now sucked her thumb. She hadn't sat up or spoken. She just lay there. Maria sat on the opposite end of the boat from Dad and me. She also hadn't said anything, but she was what my eyes feasted on when I wasn't looking over my shoulder. Her make-up ran down her cheeks and her dark hair frizzed from the dampness, but she was beautiful nonetheless. The mist had soaked her black tee-shirt making the outline of her bra visible, and I could see the swells of flesh bulging from it. I tried to remember how her breasts felt, but it had happened so fast I couldn't. However, I knew I wanted to do it again, not that I would ever get the chance.

My gaze shifted from her chest to her face when she bolted upright and waved her arms. I twisted around to look behind me and there it was—the beach. I was about to tell my father, but he was already looking at it.

"We made it," I said.

Dad smiled and patted my shoulder. That was the first physical affection I ever remembered him showing me. I smiled back.

The rubber boat rolled on the waves as they passed under us. Not waves, ripples that would become waves. And then we were approaching where they broke. They looked huge and I wondered if we would be sucked under. What would happen to Mom?

My father screamed loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves. "Row hard, and when I say 'now, ' pull in your oar."

My muscles strained and I gritted my teeth as I rowed as hard as I could. Dad kept looking over his shoulder, also rowing at a fast pace.

"Now!" he yelled and brought his oar into the boat. I did the same. "Hold on, everyone!"

The boat rose as if the giant Neptune lifted us out of the sea. I grabbed the side and crouched. I don't know if Maria did it on purpose or lost her balance, but she fell onto my mother. We went even higher. I gripped the rubber harder with both hands and felt the wind on my back as we sped up. I expected the boat to tip down, nosedive as the jet had, and then be caught in the breaking wave, pulling us under, spinning us, drowning us. I clamped my eyes shut and held my breath with my lips tight and my cheeks ballooned. We rode the wave on a bed of white foam all the way to the beach.

I was still immobilized when my father jumped out of the boat and grabbed the rope. He strained to lug it onto the beach. The undertow won the tug-of-war and he was swept off his feet with his arms extended and his prone body floating. The boat retreated back to the sea, towards the next wave to crash upon us. I leapt into the warm water and grabbed the rope. After my father regained his footing, we pulled together and got the boat onto the sand just out of reach of the water. I collapsed onto my back, breathing hard, staring up at the blue sky. Where were the clouds that had killed two people I knew and almost my entire family?

I rose up on my elbows to see Dad kneeling inside the boat. I clambered to my feet, rotating my sore shoulders, and stared at Dad stroking Mom's face. He shook her shoulder. He whispered to her. She didn't seem to notice. I looked at Maria who was still in the boat. She watched my father and mother with a dazed look, and I'm not sure she saw them. I walked up to where she was sitting and tapped her shoulder. Her head turned and her vacant eyes looked at me, or maybe through me. I couldn't tell. She was expressionless.

"Maria, are you okay?" I asked.

She continued to stare without speaking. I thought back to what my father had done to my mother on the plane, but I couldn't slap a woman. Anyway, look at my mother now. So I reached over the side of the boat and took her hand. Without her expression changing, she stood up and, when I tugged, stepped over the side. She started to fall so I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her to my body. She laid the side of her face on my shoulder.

I looked over Maria's head at my parents. "Dad, is Mom okay?"

He looked up and shrugged. My father was the most confident, take-charge man I had ever known, but at that moment he looked helpless.

"Should I go find help?" I asked.

Dad stood up and scanned the area while taking little steps until he completed a 360 degree turn. Then he scooped my mother up in his arms and climbed over the side of the boat.

"We better find help," he said in a voice I barely heard.

After laying my mother on the sand away from the water's edge, Dad dragged the boat to several tall trees. He wrapped the rope around the trunk of one and tied it. Then he dropped to a knee and scooped handfuls of sand into the boat until the entire bottom was covered. He tried pushing it, and when it didn't budge came back for Mom. He stooped and draped her arm over his neck. With an arm around her waist and the other under her thighs, he lifted her as he stood.

"Let's go," he said and walked towards the trees.

"Let's go," I said to Maria. She lifted her head and gazed at me. "We have to go find help." She continued to stare.

I placed her arm around my neck and attempted to pick her up as Dad had Mom, but it looked easier than it was. My knees buckled and I fell on my back with Maria on top of me. I scrambled out from under her and saw that my father was still walking. I took Maria's hand and pulled her up. When I tugged, she walked alongside me. I trotted and she kept up. Only when we were near my father did I slow down to match his pace, and so did Maria. She kept in stride with me, all the while holding my hand like a child.

Well into the trees now, we were able to hear the waves breaking, but no longer see them. From time to time Dad stopped to look around. I took those opportunities to glance at Maria, but her expression was always the same. I once tried to scratch my nose, but she gripped my hand and wouldn't let go so I used my other hand.

After a while, the ocean could no longer be heard. The sand became dirt and the vegetation got thicker. I saw bananas growing, and pineapples and mangoes. The ground was littered with coconuts.

We came upon a stream with crystal clear water. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. I licked my lips only to taste salt, probably from both sweat and the sea mist. They felt chapped. I bolted for the water, but Maria didn't let go of my hand so she held me back. I was so thirsty that I wrenched my hand free.

Maria dropped to her knees with her face in her hands and whimpered like a wounded animal. I tapped her shoulder. She didn't look up. I tried to take her hand, but they were both pressed to her face so I stepped behind her and placed my hands under her armpits, hoisting her to her feet. I moved to her side and placed one arm around her back. I meant to hold her waist, but my hand rested on the underside of her breast. I froze, waiting for the scream or slap or both. She just stood there. When I walked, she matched me step for step with our hips bumping. Dad was already at the stream scooping water with his hand and feeding it to Mom while holding her up with his other arm.

I tried to be inconspicuous when I pushed up against the underside of Maria's breast and planned to feign ignorance, but she didn't seem to notice. It felt so firm. Of course, I was feeling more of the bra than her tit. No longer in a hurry to reach the stream, I took small steps. Maria followed my lead. Not able to resist—after all, I was a teenage boy—I slid my hand higher, over the swell of her breast until it covered it. She didn't seem to notice so I squeezed, this time trying to burn the feeling into my memory for future masturbation sessions. Guilt overwhelmed me so I lowered my hand to her waist and continued to the stream.

On my knees and bent over, I carried water to my mouth with both hands. It was delicious. And then I noticed Maria kneeling next to me doing the same. I looked at her and she stopped to stare at me. She didn't say anything, but I saw recognition in her eyes. Was she the old Maria? Did she know that I had fondled her? She continued to drink and then splashed water on her face, washing off the make-up and sweat. That looked refreshing so I did the same.

"Where are we?" Maria asked.

"I don't know. What do you remember?"

"We crashed. We were in a boat." She looked around and then back at me. "Are we in heaven?"

"No, we didn't die. But we don't know where we are. We're looking for help."

She stared at my parents. "What happened to your mother?"

"I don't know. She's kind of out of it. Dad's been carrying her."

Her brow furrowed. "Did you carry me?"

"I tried, but you were too heavy so we walked."

I saw a faint smile. "So you're telling me I'm fat?"

"No, I didn't mean—"

Her smile grew and she chuckled. "Thank you."

"For calling you fa—"

"For helping me." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

I turned to my father, mostly because I wanted to see what he was up to, but also because I was blushing. He sat with his knees up and his elbows on his knees. His chin rested in his hands with his fingers spread over his cheeks. I stared at him, knowing not to disturb him when he was thinking.

"Bobby, we have a choice to make," my father said. He was still staring at the water. "It's going to get dark soon. We can spend the night here by the water or keep going. I don't know why we haven't found anyone yet. What do you think?"

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. My father had never asked me for my opinion. The last thing I wanted to do was give him a bad answer.