15

Also ending my horrid week was the largest catch I’d ever had with my crew. When we finally got back to the docks and hitched the boat up, it was almost four in the afternoon. I was worried that Ondine may be concerned about rehearsing, but she seemed very carefree and adrift in her thoughts. I brought her with me in my truck (that I hardly ever drove) to the convenience store to go get ice. She didn’t talk very much, but had a very faint smile as she looked out at the world around her. She trailed me into the store, and watched as I loaded the truck with bags of ice.

               As soon as we arrived with the ice, the men began to pack the crates. I told Ondine she could go if she wanted, but she insisted that she wanted to stay. I shrugged her off and helped packing the fish. Once the boat was clear, we loaded Ryan’s truck with as many crates as we could, then Jason’s with the rest. The two drove off to sell the fish to various restaurants and grocers, and I sent the rest of my crew home. I looked over to Ondine, exasperated.

               “How are you?” I asked.

               “I’m good,” she answered, smiling widely at me.

               “I’m sorry that I smell like fish,” I muttered, looking down at my feet and running my fingers through my hair. The next thing I knew, Ondine was clinging to my torso, her face buried in the chest of my overalls.

               “It’s okay,” she murmured, looking up at me.

               I smiled back at her and hugged her back gently. “Didn’t you want to rehearse?” I asked quietly.

               “I think I’ll be okay today,” she whispered, laying her head against my chest. “I’m just glad to be right here, right now.”

               I had no words. My mind had drawn a blank. I had spent weeks pining over this woman, longing for her. And now I had her, so easily. Just like that – my feelings were reciprocated. I found it hard to wrap my mind around. It was all so sudden. So sweet, but so sudden. I was afraid. I was falling into something I could not control, but I wanted it so badly. I wanted her so badly. And I told myself in that moment that I would sail the world over and over just to show her how much I wanted her here – next to me.

               She pulled away from me and looked away suddenly, as if embarrassed. I reached out to her, but then pulled my hand back. She pulled away for a reason, I scolded myself.

               “I don’t want to go back to the school,” she admitted softly.

               I tilted my head. “But you’re a lead in a ballet put on by a prestigious school,” I told her, “and you’re going to go on tour.”

               “But I’m so alone there,” she retorted, turning back to me. A defeated look had crossed her face. “I’m only happy when I dance. The rest of the time is just monotonous filler.”

               I grimaced. “Let me clean the boat. Then I’m taking you for a drink.”

               “No, you don’t have to,” she said, shaking her head.

               “I know. But I’m still taking you.” She rolled her eyes at me and walked to the end of pier and sat down, staring out at the ocean. I smiled at her before heading back over to the boat. I folded the net and put it away in its box, then locked up the storage and the cabin and hosed the deck off. I gave it a final once-over, then rolled up the hose and joined Ondine at the end of the pier.

               “Would you be mad if I pushed you in the water?” I asked. She snapped her head towards me with an intense glare.

               “Would you be mad if I stole your money and ran away with your best friend?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

               “A bit.” She grinned at me, then got to her feet and skipped ahead of me to my truck. We clambered in and I drove to The Oyster, where we had first met. I shed my overalls, since I was wearing jeans and a hoodie underneath, and left it in the cab. Ondine and I walked into the bar, greeted by the uproar of the football fans watching the game.

               “Hey, Adam!” Herman, the bartender called. “I’d never think to see you with such a beaut!”

               I turned to Ondine and smiled at her blushing face. “Now I don’t think that’s quite fair, Herman. Don’t you think I’m pretty, too?”

               “So you want a margarita, is that right, Adam?” He guffawed at me.

               “Nope,” I replied. “Can we get a pair of beers?”

               “I got ya.”

               Ondine and I took a seat at the bar. She was always so silent after the moment in which she had chosen to open up with me. It bothered me why she was so often taking two steps back whenever I finally thought she was here to stay. Herman gave us our beers, and we drank them in silence. I noticed a film take over Ondine’s eyes, and I left money at the bar for our beers, then took her outside. She was so fragile. I was afraid to lay a hand on her to begin with.

               “Are you okay?” I asked her as soon as we got outside.

               “I-I’m fine,” she muttered, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit. I sat beside her and put my arm over her shoulders. She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have had that drink,” she mumbled, putting a hand over her face.

               “What’s wrong?” I asked.

               “Nothing… I’m just lightheaded. I guess.”

               “Do you want me to take you back to the manor?”

               “No!” she retorted with a jerk. “No, I don’t want to go back.”

               “Well don’t you have to be there tomorrow?” She was worrying me.

               “I do, don’t I?” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. Yes. You should take me back.” I helped her up and into the truck, tossing my fishy overalls into the trunk before joining her. The ride home was mostly silent, broken up by a few remarks about a passing landmark that struck interest in one of us. I occasionally stole glances over at Ondine. She was staring out the window, her forehead resting against the glass. I wished I knew what was going through her mind. I wanted to make her smile like she had earlier today, but I couldn’t and I didn’t know why.

               We pulled up to the manor, and I felt extremely out of place in my old, battered up truck and my putrid clothes. Ondine still looked impeccable, which didn’t come as too much of a surprise to me by this point. I watched her slide out of the truck onto the gravel before following suit. We walked up the steps to the mansion before she turned back to me and met my gaze.

               “Thank you for today, Adam,” she said with a tilt of the head.

               “It was my pleasure,” I replied hesitantly.

               “Keep your schedule open,” she ordered. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come to town this week, but when I do, I want to meet with you.”

               “I can do that,” I told her. “It’s not like I really have any other plans anyway.”

               “I’d prefer if you did,” she said, crossing her arms. “Then you could cancel them for me.”   

               I chuckled at her, shaking my head. I found myself pulling her close to me. I found her on her toes, face closer to mine. I found myself locked in another kiss with the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

               I didn’t mind being lost. It meant that I could find myself in the most unexpected of places.

14

For roughly a week, I neither saw nor heard anything of Ondine. I spent my mornings at the docks, afternoons in the city, and evenings tending to my basket case of a mother. The weather was unusually warm for the autumn, and the sun was out all week. The tide was low, and the sea smelled saltier and fishier with each passing day. The smells and ambiance of the outdoors didn’t really bother me in particular; although, while the change was gradual, it did happen in the course of that week. It reminded me of the symbolism of the sun coming through the clouds to represent healing. Or something. But I didn’t like it. It was disconcerting to have a symbol of hope when Ondine was not there.

My mother was not at all comforting in this time. In fact, as the weather warmed, her temper grew more severe. I’d walk into my home and find myself ducking away from a bottle flying in my direction, shirking as it crashed against the wall or the door. She wouldn’t apologize, just look at me like a monster. But I’d sweep up the glass and make her dinner and put her to bed like always. I was so bitter; the thought of her death did not unsettle me in the slightest.

I spent most nights on the front porch, puffing away at a cigar. I hated smoking. I hated it so much. But all this had driven me mad. Self-medication always makes sense in your head, but not in your voice or on paper. Regardless, a smoke was all I wanted, and I gave it to myself. I didn’t ponder intellectual or ethical subjects or any bullshit like that. I just sat there, smoking, staring off into space. Imagining Ondine off in the distance, and wishing she was there so I could admire her. I usually never finished a whole cigar in one night, but I’d burn through a substantial fraction of it before going to bed.

And I could never sleep. I’d lay there staring at the ceiling in the darkness, absolutely absent-minded. Nothing was going through my head, but I was always tired, but only got reprise in about two hours of sleep. Mornings got harder each passing day, and days got longer and longer. Evenings became more apathetic, and all I honestly wanted was to sleep. But I couldn’t. I was insomnia-ridden, heartbroken young man. And I didn’t really know how to handle that.

The week that felt like eternity finally came to an end when I saw her again. Clouds had broken up the blue sky once again, and the temperature had dropped substantially. My crew and I were preparing for a trip out to sea. I was in the middle of hooking up the net when I heard Jason bark a greeting at Ondine. I turned my head sharply and grabbed him at the shoulder. “Fix up the net,” I ordered, climbing off of the boat and onto the dock. I could see Ondine’s face lighten as I stood in front of her, but she didn’t smile. “Hi, Adam.”

“Hey,” I said, panting. “Sorry about Jason. He’s young. Where have you been this past week? I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Oh, it’s not a bother,” she said demurely, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry I haven’t visited you at all. I was Anastasia’s understudy, and she sprained her ankle.” I cocked an eyebrow. “For the nutcracker. I’m playing Clara now. I’ve been busy rehearsing all week. I even had to rehearse over the weekend.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” I assured her.

She grimaced, adjusting her scarf and hugging her cardigan more tightly around her. “If the debut at the school doesn’t go well, they’re cancelling the tour.”

“You’ll do fine Ondine,” I told her, resting a hand on her shoulder. I’d never realized how boney she was.  “Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I guess I could do that,” she muttered, looking down at her feet.

“Are you alright, Ondine?” I asked, furrowing my brow at her.

               “I suppose so.”

               “Come fishing with us. You can stay in the cabin with me, if that makes you more comfortable.”

               “I shouldn’t,” she retorted, putting her hands up and shaking her head. “I need to rehearse.”

               “You’ll be fine,” I insisted, taking her frail arm lightly. “You can rehearse afterwards. You’ll have plenty of the afternoon at your leisure. I promise.” She looked up at me innocently, the breeze carrying her blonde hair around her face, her big planet eyes putting so much weight on my heart in that moment. I smiled at her and helped her onto the boat. The crew parted as I guided her into the cabin.

               “She comin’ with us, Adam?” Ryan called from the fly deck.

               “Yep, we got an extra crew member with us today,” I yelled back. “She’s especially good for heavy lifting.”

               Ryan’s bellowing laughter fell down to us. “We’ll put her to work, for sure.” He gave Ondine a wink. She chuckled, then walked into the cabin with me. I shut the door behind us, then took a seat in my chair. I always did the behind the scenes work when the boys weren’t there, so I didn’t feel bad about letting them take up my share of the work for once. Ondine sat beside me and we were silent for a few minutes before she looked over at me and initiated conversation.

               “I missed you this week, Adam,” she said.

               I looked over at her, a bit surprised. “I… I missed you too.” Half of my mouth curved into a smile, and she laughed at me.

               “You’re adorable,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I wish that this production wasn’t so time-consuming. You’re such a stress reliever.”

               “Well, I’m glad I’m good for something,” I shrugged. She had complimented me. I was at a loss for what to say.

               “How was your week?” she asked.

               “Not exactly brilliant,” I told her with a grimace. “My mother is a pain in the ass and everything else just kind of sucks in every way possible. I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know.”

               “I’m sorry.”

               “Don’t be,” I muttered. “It’s not your fault.” Ryan’s booming signal to take off seeped through the cabin door, so I turned the ignition and set the boat out to sea. They tossed the net and we seined the shallow waters. Ondine just watched while I steered and occasionally peeked out of the cabin door to see what the crew was doing. I brought the boat to a stop and went out on deck to help with the net. Once it had been emptied and doctored, we threw it out again and went another round before putting the net away and heading farther out.

               As we ventured farther from shore, I noticed that Ondine had begun to watch me more intently. She occasionally asked a simple question about fish or controls, but was mostly quiet until I stopped the boat again. The men flooded into the cabin to get their tack boxes, poles, and extra line, then just as quickly departed. They were even considerate enough to shut the door behind them.

               I looked over at Ondine with a soft smile. “How are you feeling now?” I asked.

               “Better, I think,” she replied, sitting back in her chair. “Watching you steer is interesting.”

               “It is, isn’t it?” I laughed. “I’m glad you’re fascinated by my skills.” I waved my hands around in a ridiculous display of mockery. She grinned.

               “I’m not so much as enchanted by your skills as I am by you, Adam,” she told me, rolling her eyes.

               I sat back, tilting my head. “Is that so?”

               “Yes, it is so!” Ondine insisted. “But I can’t just stare at you for minutes on end. That would be odd.”

               “Then I must be mad,” I chortled to myself. She cocked an eyebrow at me, then leaned forward in her chair, closer to me.

               “We’d all like to find someone just as mad as we are,” she told me quietly. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one quite as mad as myself.”

               “Is that so?”

               “Yes. But you come pretty damn close, Adam.” It was incredible what a profound effect that her words often had on me, but I was stunned at them now more than any other time. I looked down at the ground and licked my chapped lips, then looked back up at her. Her playful expression was quickly falling into one of disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, sitting up and beginning to look away, but I reached out and touched her arm.

               “I think you are mistaken, ma’am,” I said in the most composed manner I could manage. “You see, I am quite a lunatic. I have gone completely insane for you.” Her jaded eyes smiled at me, and I grinned back. I leaned into her, and she leaned into me.

               And yes, my hellish, infinite week ended with the sweetest kiss I have ever tasted.

not a nanowrimo winner this year

but it's ok. this novel is still burning

run darling
keep your little heart out of the dirt
keep it safe
tie it in twine and hold it close
to your heart

run darling
keep your feet out of the gutters
keep them dry
bind them in cloth to keep out
the thorns.

hush darling
don't you shed a tear
the storm brews
but a cloud can only carry
so much rain.

13

I took the boat out only a few miles at first to seine, but I planned to take it out a full thirty-five later on to prove to Ryan that I was fine. He hadn’t argued with me any further, but did seem unsatisfied with the end of the conversation. I slowed the boat to a stop and let it drift. I left the keys in the ignition, and Ryan and I went to the deck to join the crew. They were already up and ready to work. I felt my ego swell, and unlocked the storage compartment. Ryan and I hauled the first part of the net out, and were then joined by two other men. Once enough of it had been removed, I attached it to the pulley. I then returned to the cabin, leaving the door wide open. Ryan climbed onto the fly deck and manned the power block, while the rest of the crew gathered the net up. Once they were ready, I began to coast slowly, watching the sonar closely. When it alerted me to activity underneath us, I radioed to Ryan for confirmation. The signals were usually hit or miss, and we rarely caught on the first signal. I moved on, then stopped the boat again at the next signal and repeated the protocol.

“Toss the net!” Ryan’s voice boomed over the sound of the wind and waves. The men grunted and exclaimed as they threw the net into the water, and I heard the power block creak as Ryan lowered it. He radioed me that we were set, and I began to circle the boat. I began with large circles, but gradually spiraled inwards. Once I could not turn any sharper, I made several passes through the area until I felt the full weight of the net slowing the boat down. I ordered Ryan to retract the net. He complied and I stopped the boat as soon as I heard the power block moving. I dropped the anchor, then joined the crew on the deck. The catch had filled a large portion of the net, as Ryan couldn’t retract very much of the net that we had cast out. I folded my arms over my chest with a heavy sigh, and Ryan came down and joined me.

“That was a pretty impressive school, Adam,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “We really don’t have to deep sea today. The weather’s looking bad.”

“I’m not worried,” I replied soberly. “Klaus took us out in harsher weather and we survived.”

Ryan grimaced, then signaled the crew to gather in the cabin. Only after I was alone on the deck did I turn to join them, shutting the cabin door behind me. The men were passing out waters from the cooler and arguing over how to split the potato chips equally. Ryan did not maintain his role as a leader when not faced with a task immediately at hand, but the rest of the crew still looked up to him. We were all nearly the same age, though, although the hierarchy was very apparent. Gregory went to high school with Ryan and I, and had graduated with our class, and had joined the crew the year after we did. Michael and Benjamin had joined two years after us, and had both just turned nineteen. Jason was the youngest; he was eighteen. I was reluctant to hire him at first, because he had little nautical experience, but I figured he had to start somewhere.

I sat in my chair and took up the anchor. Ryan passed me a bottle of water; I opened it and drank a bit, but lost interest in it quickly. I sped the boat up to the most responsible speed that I could maintain without busting the net. It took us almost forty-five minutes to get out to deep, so after the others had obliterated the chips, they began to play cards. Once I had gotten out as I far as I wanted, however, I brought the boat to a gradual halt and anchored it. Ryan immediately left the cabin and hurried to lift the net of fish from the water and lowered the net onto the deck. The rest of the men grabbed their fishing poles and lined up in their assigned places along the edges of the boat. I removed the bait from the cooler and chopped it up, distributing it amongst the men. We spent several minutes in one spot, catching smaller fish and tossing them on ice. Once the fish began to come in more slowly, I displaced the boat by a few miles. We caught a few more small fish, before I returned to the cabin again and moved the boat out several more miles. This was the point where we would begin to catch the larger fish, throwing back the out-of season breeds and icing the in-season ones.

It would be monotonous to detail the rest of the day, as this process made up the remainder of it. By lunchtime, I decided to end the day. The men secured comfortable seating on the deck as we made the journey back to shore. It took roughly an hour and half to reach shore. Halfway through the trip home, Ryan joined me in the cabin again. The men were laughing raucously over their lunches on the subject of vulgar humor. Ryan’s spirits had been lifted and he seemed less concerned about me than he was this morning, which made talking to him much easier than before.

“The clouds broke up,” he said with a laugh. “Imagine that. I have a little more faith in you, Captain.”

I grinned and glanced over at him. “I know what I’m doing,” I said, my ego dripping from each syllable. “It runs in the family.”

“You numpty.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about that lassy you’ve been pinin’ over?”

“I’m sure,” I muttered, clenching my fingers tightly over the wheel.

“I don’t think ye are.”

“I am.”

“I don’t care. Tell me who she is,” Ryan insisted.

“Fine,” I groaned, slumping into my seat. “Her name is Ondine. She is a ballerina at the Teagan School for Ballet, and she’s brilliant.”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow at me. “Brilliant, ye say?”

“Shut up, you wanker,” I snapped. He laughed at me, and I couldn’t suppress a grin. We moved away from the subject of Ondine and talked about the football games yesterday and other mindless topics. When we finally reached the docks, I slowed to boat into a park in our dock and anchored it. The crew outside tethered it to the boards. Ryan climbed up to the fly deck and emptied the net onto the docks, and I joined the crew on the deck. Jason drove his pickup to the convenience store for ice, and returned quickly. We began to pack the fish we had seined into ice crates and loaded them onto the back of Jason’s truck. Once we had cleared the deck of the mackerel, Ryan took the truck to the various places we sold the fish to; the supermarket, the processing plants, and a few seafood restaurants we had partnerships with.

The rest of my men threw their deep-sea fish into our freezer on the dock. After all the fish had been removed from my boat, I told my crew they were free to go. They left without protest, but Jason lingered behind to invite me out to the pub.

“Aren’t you too young to drink?” I asked. I usually only went out with Ryan on nights after fishing to play his wingman.

“I was talking to Alfred Schroeder,” he told me. “He owns the Seal Club. He’s on the good side of the police department. Greg, Michael, and Benjamin are going tonight.”

I smirked. “Don’t let those guys get you in trouble,” I chastised. “It’s not worth losing your job.”

“Would you really fire me for that?” Jason asked, taken aback.

“You would be arrested,” I scoffed. “I’m sorry, I can’t fish with convicted criminals. Just be careful.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, brushing me off. “I’ll be fine. We’re meeting up there at nine, if you end up wanting to join us, Captain.” He spun on his heel and walked to the bench by the convenience store to wait for his truck. I chuckled a bit, but I was really disgusted by his bravado. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him; he just reminded me of myself when I was his age, and I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed how much of a dick I was at the time.

I turned back to the boat with an exhausted sigh and began to hose it off. Ryan returned just as I was turning off the water. He approached me and handed me a wad of cash. “They’re not paying as much,” he told me with a grimace. “But we still got it all off of our hands. At least we’re not stuck with a quarter ton of mackerel.”

“Yeah,” I chortled, shaking my head as I counted the money. “I don’t think the dock owner would be thrilled about us paying rent in fish.”

“We always have the same damn banter,” Ryan observed with a grin.

“It’s always damn funny,” I pointed out, putting the money away in the cash pouch.

“The boys were talking about going out to drink tonight,” Ryan said.

“I’m not really sure if I’m up for it, Ryan,” I sighed, zipping up the pouch and tucking it into my jacket.

“I could go for a drink,” he argued, “but not with those dimwits. I’m going to the Clam at 9. I need a wingman.”

I groaned. “Why?” I protested. “Why can you not just get a woman for yourself?”

Ryan lifted his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, Adam, but us other men don’t all meet mysterious ballerinas.” He grinned at me, but I punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t get so defensive, Captain.” I couldn’t really get mad at Ryan for being Ryan, but I also couldn’t help that his joking was making a mockery of something that was much more serious than one of his one-night stands.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, walking towards the sea fare office. “I’m just stressed out with my mom and whatnot.” I told the woman working I was paying rent. She began to ask who I was, but I interrupted her with my last name and the name of the boat. She was very obviously taken aback by my lack of manners, but didn’t appear offended in the slightest. She turned to find my file.

“I hate when they hire new people to work the rent office,” I told Ryan.

“No you don’t,” he argued. “Last month, when Gwyn quit, you said you wished you had gotten to know her more.”

“I just thought she was attractive,” I told him, furrowing my brow. The lady slipped my file and a white envelope through the window.

“I believe that,” Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. I rolled my eyes at him and pulled out the cash from earlier, putting a hundred of it into the envelope and tucking the rest away in my jacket. I sealed the envelope and wrote my name and my ship name, as well as my dock number, onto the front of it, then opened my file and signed and dated that I had paid my rent. The woman took both of them back, authorizing my signature and slipping the envelope into a locked ballot box, and then ticking my number off of a chart.

“I might have to file a rain check on tonight,” I told Ryan as we left the docks. “I have a lot on my mind. I don’t want to steal your prey by appearing ‘sensitive.’”

“Fair enough.” We went our separate ways, waving each other goodbye. I headed to the bank and deposited the remaining money into the business account, then headed home for a shower and a much-needed nap. I ignored the putrid scent of alcohol when I entered my home and hung up my coat. I wasn’t particularly interested in taking care of my drunken mother this evening. I quickly showered and garbed myself in clean clothes, tossing my dirty ones into the laundry basket, then collapsed on my bed and fell right to sleep.

12

The rest of my day passed by slowly and painfully, but was not nearly interesting enough to account for here. I went to bed early, and woke up early. After eating breakfast, I dressed and went out to the docks to wait for my crew. I got there at 4:00, an hour earlier than I usually did, and I’m not really sure how I managed to for an hour on the fly deck doing nothing.

Ryan was the first to arrive. I climbed down from the fly deck and met him on the dock. He handed me the pouch we kept business money in, then began to give the ship an inspection and set it up for sailing. He was unusually quiet today, but I didn’t bother him about it. None of us were really morning people, anyway. I don’t think anyone’s a morning person at five in the morning. The rest of the crew came in one by one, and our entourage was complete by five-thirty.

“Aye Adam, I hear the water’s s’posed to be rough t’day,” Jason, one of the newer men, yelled at me.

“We’ll be fine,” I told him, waving him away. “None of us are married, anyway.” The men laughed, and I plastered a fake grin on my face, but felt it fall the more I thought about Ondine. I groaned and gave the ship a final once-over, then motioned for Ryan to unhitch the ropes. I went into the cabin and lifted the anchor. “Are we ready?” I shouted out the cabin door. Ryan nodded, and he joined me in the cabin, shutting the door behind him. He joined me in the skipper’s chair, where Ondine had sat when I took her out to sea.

“How far you plan on goin’ out today, Adam?” Ryan’s lilt made me feel like I was in a movie or something.

“Thirty, but if the sky looks badly, I might just stay at twenty-five,” I answered dryly, smacking my lips and staring out ahead of me.

“You alright, Captain?” Ryan asked, furrowing his brow at me.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I just have an idiot for a mother, is all.”

“Is she still living off of that pension?” Ryan asked, baffled. “How much was your damn father worth?” I frowned, and he shook his head. “Not what I meant, sorry.”

“I guess he just got good coverage because of his job,” I said with a shrug. “The premium is damn high, owning a boat and using it often though, I’ll tell you that.”

Ryan smirked, looking in front of him. “Are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you?”

“I never said it was the only thing,” I replied starkly. Ryan grimaced, but shrugged me off, and we were silent for the next few minutes. I could feel the distance between the boat and land growing behind me, and I could feel the weight of the heavy clouds above us, and I suddenly felt something I had never felt before in my career.

I was afraid.

Ryan looked over at me, and surely noticed the expression that had crossed my face. “Adam?” He sat forward in his seat and leaned over to get my attention. “What’s wrong, captain?”

I began to slow the boat. I could hear the men in the back questioning the change in speed. I looked over to Ryan and shook my head. I couldn’t find any words. I looked at the floor, mouth agape, stricken with something I was so unfamiliar with.

               “Adam.” I looked back up at Ryan. His concern had turned to sympathy. His gaze was calm, but sorrow, and mine frightened and frantic. I was so conflicted and he just had to watch, at the most inconvenient of times. All of the sudden, the intensity in my chest and the confusion it my brain lifted, and I breathed again.

               “I’m…I’m sorry,” I gasped, shaking my head. I sped up the boat, and heard cheering from the deck. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

               “Adam,” Ryan said soberly. “You can’t just pretend this is something that doesn’t exist.”

               “I’m going to have to try.”