I Won't Forget The Beach

I remember when the captain of the dilapidated little charter fishing vessel glanced at the horizon, and a flicker of worry danced in the lines of his wrinkled face. He told you, second in command and the only person on the boat besides me, to get the ship ready to move, and do it fast.

But you weren't fast enough, because that storm swept up on us, and the ship was careening wildly through enormous blasts of water. When a shard of lightning struck the mast, a shock of electricity swept through me, and the next thing I knew, I was in the water.

Maybe I heard a voice calling my name, or maybe I didn't. Hallucinations probably wouldn't be unreasonable, considering. I passed out, and the next thing I remember, my face was bumping into sand. I pulled myself up and tried to get my bearings.

Out in the water, in the midst of the reefs, I saw slivers of driftwood and sensed familiarity. I knew by the color that that was what used to be the boat, knew I was probably all alone. But then I saw you sitting on the beach nearby, staring out with wide, drowsy eyes, and realized you were thinking the same thing. We were missing one person, and that that one person was out there beneath the waves.

I remember sort of crawling up next to you because my legs were too weak to stand, attempting to speak but only capable of soft, forced croaks. I asked you if you knew where we were. You shook your head, sand drizzling out of your hair, and said you had no idea. Way off in the distance, a thread of thunder rumbled threateningly.

"Coming our way," you managed to mumble. "Got to find shelter."

But we didn't. Just like before, that storm swept up on us before we were able to do anything, and we huddled next to each other underneath a tree, not even caring about anything but how much the rain stung as it hurtled into us in icy sheets.

I remember waiting for you as you swam out to the reefs when the storm was over, but the storm had swept away anything of the boat that remained except for the captain's hat. You sort of wiped your eyes with it, plopped it down over your bedraggled hair, and said,

"Guess Cap won't be needing it anymore. Mine now."

That island was small, inconspicious, out in the middle of nowhere. Cap had said the best fishing spots were were nobody ever went. No one was looking for us. Cap's shoddy boat was despised by other captains; they considered it an eyesore and wanted it gone anyway. I was a homeless nobody who'd managed to scrounge up money for a cheap fishing trip because I figured at least I'd be able to catch my own dinner. Your family was all dead.

So, we waited. We didn't start a fire or do anything survivors are supposed to because we didn't have anything to do it with. We watched the sun spin around our world and tried to survive. During the nights, we attempted to stay warm, and during the days, we did our best to stay cool.

You were tan, walking around with your t-shirt peeled off because of the glaring midday sun. I kept wearing my shirt until I realized it was too hot and peeled mine off too and wore my ragged bikini top and jean shorts. You cast a look at my lean midriff, and you couldn't help but swallow before turning away. I looked at the strong, muscular lines of your sailors arms, with those thin little tattoos swirling on the right shoulder, and felt my insides tremble. We both made excuses about needing to do something else and hurried away from each other.

We spent two more weeks out there, getting leaner every day. We devoured a few plants you knew you were good that you foraged, but we were both ravenous. But we weren't only starved for food; we were hungry for anything to remind us of the old days, something to nourish the hope that we'd somehow make it off of the island alive.

But most of all, I remember every detail of one evening. This evening. We were sitting on the the beach watching the sun set, slightly closer than normal. I don't know why we rarely came close to each other. But then, some weird insect came careening out of nowhere and struck me in the side of my head, and I cowered away. Turns out, what I tumbled into was your shoulder. When my skin touched yours, you flinched, not out of pain but because you were feeling the same thing I was. Sparks. Hope. New frontiers. Something to take us away from the secluded prison of the beaches.

I remember looking into the deep liquid murk of your eyes, watching the flickering lights inside, and couldn't stop staring. You swallowed again, but I hoped with everything that you wouldn't turn away, and you didn't disappoint. One of you hands crept smoothly to the small of my back, and just like that, you laid me back on the sand, held yourself over me and swept the hair out of my eyes.

We're not fairy tale lovers, just two young, scrubby people brought together by accident. The wind swept over our bare skin, and a few grains of sand pelted us, but we were both too swept away to notice. I closed my eyes and felt the entire world liquidize around me, getting lost in the depths of you, feeling the heat of you so close to me and loving how our breaths blended together. And when everything spiraled off, I pulled myself close to you and tucked my head into your neck, holding onto you as my world shuddered and shimmered in the pale golden sunset light.

Now, I'm tucked under your arm, my head slumped on your chest. You're drowsing next to me, the scents of sweat and salt heavy on your skin. The stars are stunningly bright tonight. I remember complicated times back home, times where I didn't have anything, where I went starving, not just for food but for love. It's strange, but I can't think of any place where I'd rather be than right here.

I'll never forget this.