chapter 8
When I woke up, the feeling of confinement overtook me. I had the need to open a window or a door, but there was no way to relieve the stuffiness of the room. Everything felt stiff and recycled, like it had been dug up and buried time and time again. I needed to breathe fresh air—I needed to get out.
Of course Charlie didn’t have a clock anywhere, and I neglected to charge the laptop, so I didn’t have any sense of what time it was. However, by the sounds of silence in the hall, I guessed it was still night. I traded my soiled tank top for my clean t-shirt and put on the denim jacket Charlie had left behind. I wondered if he did it on purpose, but tried not to put too much thought into it. I decided I would only go out for a minute—just one minute, sixty seconds, then retreat to the safety of the cabin. I knelt in front of the plastic crate and looked around for something to cover my face. In the second drawer it was easy enough to find a couple of ball caps. I picked the cleanest one I could find, which seemed to be one that was never worn.
I unlocked the door and cautiously looked both ways before taking the route to the deck that Charlie had showed me the day before. The fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes at first, but I kept my head down and propped the collar of the jacket up to keep my face covered. While it was obvious I wasn’t a member of the crew, I hoped I could at least blend in a little bit should the situation call for it.
I kept my pace steady as I made it through the final stairwell to the deck. I could smell the salt of the ocean and limestone being unloaded nearby. Taking a moment to breathe it in, I never imagined I could feel so happy from such a simple combination. My pleasure was easily broken up, however, as I leaned against the deck entry door and heard laughter and the voices of people I didn’t recognize speaking something I didn’t understand. I can’t say that it didn’t scare the hell out of me—I unexpectedly couldn’t breathe. I was being a complete idiot. Did they have brigs like they did in those old war movies? Would anyone understand me when I tried to explain I was here against my will? I tried to think of the Chinese equivalent for taken or stolen and translated the verb, but my head wouldn’t work properly.
With the voices coming closer, I pushed myself onto the deck. Although it was still dark, thin tufts of pink were floating on the horizon, pushing their way upward. I must not have slept long…I felt the chill of the sea and the night instantly. It was both wonderful and overwhelming at the same time. I took a few steps forward and saw a door latch marked Safety Equipment in English and maybe ten other languages, marked like so many other doors with stenciled numbers and penciled lines. Inside I found an oil-stained life vest that I put on, if for nothing else than it would add to my disguise.
I couldn’t see anyone around me, although on the other side of the deck I could see welding sparks and hear more voices. When the wind blew I could smell some kind of chemicals in the air that made me gag. I closed my arms around myself and took a few steps forward. I didn’t want to be too far away from the door in case someone spotted me and I needed to make a quick getaway. But the closer I got to the sea, the more I wanted to see the morning waves. The pink in the sky gave way to shades of yellow and orange, each lovely in their own respect. They took out the dark of the night and those pearly stars like they were made of nothing.
My family had never been big beach-goers, but when we had gone, I was the one crazy for the water. Even now I watched the miniature waves collide with the side of the boat. It fascinated me that they would still be here, millions of years from now, long after we were gone and this misadventure was through. I sighed and rubbed my temples. Where would I be when all of this was said and done? Where would Charlie be?
I dismissed the image from my head, but it kept popping in there, reappearing when I least wanted it to. It was his fault I was here in the first place and that I had nearly been killed. I couldn’t justify that no matter how sweet he had been to me over the last couple of days. Even he had stated that if he’d really had to, he might very well have killed me, sparing me originally only because I was a girl. Still, I had to acknowledge the way he made me laugh and made my stomach flip-flop. I understood he was a thief and that I would probably be psychologically damaged to some extent because of him, but I couldn’t help but care about him. As long as no one else was hurt, I truly didn’t want him to be punished for abducting me.
Morning set in easily, as though the night had never been, and as much as I hated to leave, I remembered what Charlie said about the morning being one of the busiest times of the day. Sure enough, just as I was crossing over to the other side of the deck, Polo and another deckhand came around the corner.
I swore to myself and leaned against a wall with an arrow that pointed to something called Hold 6 & 7. I made a mental note to research ship terminology if and when I ever got the chance. Polo was laughing his Polo laugh, and I had to smile because I had the feeling that Charlie was right—I couldn’t even begin to imagine Polo hurting anyone.
“Addie, Addie, Addie, Addie!” Once I heard his voice I knew I had been caught.
“Hi, Polo.”
He jumped in front of me, bouncing on his heels. “I thought that was you!”
I shushed him. “Hey, keep it down.” I looked over his shoulder, but whoever he was with must have gone the other way.
“Oh, right!” He mimicked my whisper but continued to bounce. I was nervous his behavior might draw some very unwanted attention in my direction. I had to admit that without Charlie around, I was more than uncomfortable about my safety. However, most of the deckhands were on the other side of the deck and seemed rather preoccupied with their work, so I tried not to fret. Despite his erratic movement, I could still see the dirt and grit all over Polo’s face and clothing—it was actually kind of hard to miss.
“Um…what were you doing just now?” I reached and swiped a smear from his safety helmet. Sure enough the new dirt on my fingers smelled like Charlie when he came up from the basement the other day.
“Doing stuff in the engine room. I’m going now to make breakfast for the crew. Oh! Come with me!”
I thought about sitting in the cabin all day long and being stuck with my thoughts of Charlie; I shuddered. “Sure, Polo. Why not?”
Although he didn’t spell it out, I understood that the galley wasn’t supposed to be open before seven in the morning when breakfast was ready. And while the shipping company’s employees ate in the mess hall, Charlie and the rest of the unofficial crew ate in the galley. A second meal was cooked by noon and another around five in the evening. I could see that the main food supplies were stored in a large industrial freezer and refrigerator just below the galley. Next to them were rooms that served as pantries with industrial sized cans of fruit, vegetables, some dried meats, and oils for cooking.
It was explained to me, though, that if you wanted something special, you had to bring it yourself and label it or else someone would consume it in a heartbeat.
“The guys say they don’t know what I’m talking about, but I think they’re lying to me. I think they’re messing with me.” Polo was bouncing, telling me about the snack cake conspiracy that all those around him seemed to be in on.
“I’m sure they’re not eating your food on purpose.” It was taking all of my strength to hoist the huge industrial-sized skillet from a cupboard.
“I was hiding the last box of cupcakes in my room, under dirty coveralls!”
I stifled a laugh, but it was difficult and it came out more like a snort. I recalled the Twinkie outside the cabin door and laughed outright.
I tried to figure out what to do next when Polo began emptying liquid eggs in the skillet. The aluminum pan was visibly abused, scratched and dented from maltreatment.
“Hey there, Polo?”
“Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?”
“Did you cook yesterday?”
He threw his head back and forth violently. “Duh! That’s my job!”
I tried to approach the subject delicately. “Um, why don’t you take a little break and let me help you out today?”
Before he could answer, I took the skillet and dumped the contents in a mixing bowl. I then put some much needed cooking spray in the empty pan and set it to low heat.
“Ah!” He smacked himself in the head. “I always forget that part!”
I laughed. “That’s okay. At least you managed to turn on the oven. That’s further than my Dad or brother would have gotten.”
I sighed. It had been a couple of years, but maybe I could pretend this was summer camp and this was the same sort of homesickness I was feeling.
Concentrating on the egg batter, I whisked it with some salt, pepper, and milk, feeling the beginning of an idea sprout in my brain.
“Hey, Polo, are there any open cans of vegetables in the fridge?”
He ran from the room screaming, “Time me! Time me!”
Seven seconds later he came back with the two large open cans, left again, and returned in eight seconds with another can.
“How’d I do, Addie?”
I just nodded at the clock and started scooping in diced tomatoes. “Nice.”
After some broccoli, cheese, mushrooms, and cloves, I even found the lid for the skillet that Polo claimed had been M.I.A. forever so the food might stay warm without burning. It felt good to accomplish something for the first time in several days, even if it was only making eggs, and I felt revitalized enough to try something bold.
“Polo, where are we right now exactly?”
He shrugged and started whistling some loud tune. “Beats me. Ben keeps track of all of that stuff.”
The mention of Ben Walden unsettled me a little. I had gotten the impression he was a ringleader, and if what Yuri had said was true about throwing me overboard, then it was surely the logic of a leader that had promoted the idea. I struggled with several breaths when I remembered how cordial and polite he had been at our first meeting, but it was clear that Ben Walden would kill without reservation if the situation required it. It was frightening how completely different two sides of the same coin could be.
“You guys all take jobs around here, right?” I grabbed the broom and dust pan and started sweeping the floor.
Polo jumped on the table and used it as a step to get to some hanging pipes. From there he started doing pull-ups. “Yup. Yup. Yup.”
“What do Charlie and Ben do?”
“Oh! Right, Charlie works with the guys in steering. He makes maps and stuff to drive around the Coast Guard check point. He’s real good at it ‘cause he’s good at drawing. Ben does business things with the inventory, ours and other people’s. Reid is like an electrician, and Yuri is a mechanic for stuff in the engine room. I’m just a steward, but I’ve got my projects in the engine room.”
“What kind of projects, Polo?” I emptied the dust pan full of dirt and tried to remain nonchalant, but the answer to this question was important and I had a feeling it had to do with the noises I’d heard coming from the basement and the smells I couldn’t place.
He jumped from the table onto the floor and tried to skid across. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but if Charlie says you’re okay, then you’re okay. Come on!” Without any warning he grabbed me by the hand and yanked me out the doors. The most frightening part of this was that he wasn’t as cautious as Charlie. The sudden pull on my arm hurt my shoulder immensely, though he hadn’t intended me harm.
As we descended a staircase, painted yellow for caution, I pulled back on Polo and held onto the ramp for leverage.
“Polo! Hold on a second! Stop!” I practically had to yell over his incessant whistling.
“What now?” He seemed genuinely confused and even a little hurt. I almost felt bad for my harsh tone.
“What would happen if I was caught as a stowaway, Polo?”
His foot tapped the ground impatiently. “Well, unless Ben said so, the Captain would probably have you locked in the confessional until we made port. But it’s cool because Charlie just gave everybody a pay out to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
I swallowed hard. There were so many questions I hardly knew where to begin. “Wh-what are you talking about, Polo?” I thought about the way Charlie had avoided answering my question about the consequences of being found aboard the ship, but on every other subject he had been frank and honest with me. What was so horrific about being a stowaway that he thought he couldn’t tell me about?
“What’s this confessional you’re talking about?” I tried again
He smacked his hands together and laughed. “It’s almost the coolest thing ever! It’s this old thing from a church that we use like a brig. Charlie rigged the locks real good.”
I shivered. “Um…how about you just show me your projects, Polo?”
And then we were running again. “Yeah!” he shouted back to me. “Because these are the coolest things ever!”
We walked into an endless area that was incredibly noisy and covered with the filth of a thousand trips. The heat was instantly stifling and I had to remove the denim jacket to keep from suffocating. There were large electrical outlet boxes and exhaust fans fitted into the walls, but if they were for ventilation, it didn’t feel like they were doing much good.
Polo was pointing excitedly to some of the larger machinery, but I could barely understand him over the all of the noise. “Fuel pump…boiler…diesel…turbine…” I was fascinated that the few men who were working with tools and various other things somehow refused to acknowledge my presence. It all seemed so strange.
“Back here!”
I followed Polo to the back end of the engine room where there was a separate set of doors leading to a different room. Inside, there were large slates of fold out tables covered from end to end in what looked like the remains of a science fair. Beneath them, some large wooden crates were covered by tarps.
Everything from bundles of wires to beakers, cylinders, funnels, and plastic cords were scattered all over the place. The room was exceptionally bright with fluorescent lighting in the ceiling, so I could see everything well enough. I picked up a rack of sulfuric powder and immediately recognized the smell. Next to it was a large container filled to the brim with fertilizer. Almost everything was harmless by itself, but when combined I knew it could cause some damage.
“What do you do down here, Polo?”
He looked at me like I was a fool. “I make the knockers.”
“The knockers?”
His eyes rolled at me. “Explosives to get into stuff.”
He reached for a crate under the table and pulled out a plastic capsule. It was completely plain and ordinary looking with no markings and no bigger than my fist. He shook it fiercely, making something rattle inside. Terrified of what might go off, I covered my head with my arms and dived under the table.
Polo began laughing as though he might never stop. “It’s not active yet!”
I stood up and wiped the sweat from my face. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t make them stop.
“Can we go back up, Polo? I think I’m getting seasick.”
Amongst other things, I learned that the large, metal fixtures that protruded from the front of the ship were part of the cranes that were dismantled before leaving port. I understood they were important, essential. But to me they looked like obscure pieces of art, disfigured sculptures too rusted for even the most eccentric to love. The occasional bird would land at their tops, fly away, and disappear.
As I watched the clouds pass over, I kept trying to picture the most innocent uses a group of thieves could use bombs for. But my imagination betrayed me, and I continuously only came up with images I had seen from the news and action movies, seeing in my head only suffering and physical pain.
The sun felt good on my arms and I willed myself to soak up as much of it as possible. There wasn’t anyone around, and with my head inflated with this new knowledge, I had every intention of going back down to Charlie’s cabin and only emerging if it was absolutely necessary. It had become clear that exploring the ship would only cause me grief and future headaches that I could easily avoid by just staying where Charlie instructed. I felt myself smile at the thought of him and examined the denim of his jacket with my fingertip. If I was even remotely normal, I would have been frowning instead. But I couldn’t, and something growing inside wouldn’t let me.
And just like that, I heard his voice on the wind.
It was soft at first, but then the low echoes of his baritone floated back to me once more, this time the sound was heftier, so I knew I hadn’t just been hearing things.
“Charlie?”
I turned and watched him jog up the same corridor Polo and I had just come from. Charlie looked frayed as he rushed to get to the deck, his eyes eagerly searching for something he couldn’t see. He ruffled a hand through his hair and swore, kicked a lifeboat, and placed his hands on his knees for leverage. All the while I watched him from behind a large pillar on the side of the…main part of the ship? I told myself I would truly have to learn some terminology before I left.
He walked toward the edge of the deck and took hold of the rail. I had to carefully scoot around to the other side of the pillar to prevent him from seeing me. And while I very much wanted to see him up close, it was more fun to see him this way, and without question more interesting. He was like some rare and wonderful creature, and I was privileged to have the opportunity to observe him.
Staring at the sea, he closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, though what it was I never knew. He was wearing the same fuel-stained jeans from the day before but had on a fresh navy blue t-shirt with a cut that showed not only the lean muscles in his arms, but also the serpent tattooed on his neck. For a moment I stared at it and it almost seemed to stare back at me. I made myself wave the notion away—everything about Charlie had a life of its own.
He took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it to his mouth but then stopped to reconsider. He looked at it for a minute, frowned, and threw it into the sea. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and thought that I might jump out and try to sneak up on him. Suddenly, however, he became possessed with the frenzy of a madman as he began hitting the railing with a pounding fist. Simultaneously, he kicked the side panels, and a growl emitted from the depths of his chest, though these were difficult to hear through the slur of profanities that erupted from his mouth.
Finally he let loose a scream into the ocean.
I was unable to stand it any longer. Seeing him so unmistakably miserable brought tears to my eyes and I knew whatever was disturbing him so incessantly had to end before my heart collapsed on itself.
“Charlie?”
He stopped instantly. It was actually so abrupt that I thought he might have hurt himself. He remained so completely motionless that it only increased my fear. I ran up behind him and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
When he turned to me his face was red and his eyes bugging. He looked me up and down. He seemed confused, almost disorientated; it did nothing to alleviate my worry.
“Addie.” His mouth moved to say something else, but the words didn’t come.
I smiled, although it was more from nerves than anything else. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out?”
His expression became detached with a thin outline of anger he was trying very hard to suppress. “What happened to you?”
I tried to decipher his frenzy, but nothing came to me. I knew I needed to tread around any potential answer carefully. If I said the wrong thing, would he have another tantrum? Would he hurt someone, or himself?
“I, um…went for some air and ran into Polo. I helped him in the galley and he gave me a tour of the engine room.”
He looked back to the sea, his jaw stiffened. “I told you to stay in the cabin.”
Was this the reason he was so upset, because I hadn’t followed an instruction? I felt my own glimmer of anger rise within me. He had no right to dictate my movements even if he had saved my life.
“Hey! I’m not your property. If I want to go out and explore, that’s my prerogative. Curiosity is one of the most natural human instincts…”
“You got any idea what coulda happened out here? How a lotta the guys out here think?” He shouted it more at the ocean than me, but it scared me enough that I kept my mouth shut. Once more I could hear his accent coming through—revealing he was genuinely upset. It seemed like such a silly thing to get so worked up over. But I understood he was worried, anxious that something bad might happen to me.
I moved from where I was so that I could stand beside him. I could see clearly enough that his knuckles were white from clenching the railing. Feeling courageous, I slowly ventured my hand on top of his. Using every caution imaginable in case he had a fit, or perhaps worse, in case he didn’t want me to touch him, I was very careful not to touch any other part. I felt his grip on the railing relax almost instantly when my fingers slid over his. The fire-hot feel of his skin made my pulse increase and made me dizzy.
After awhile, our forearms met as well, moving just enough so that they might be touching, too. I felt the anxiety in me go slack and a new sort of calm take over my body. Maybe he was activating some kind of pressure point…but even I knew I was stretching for explanations on that one. Other things were getting through the filter now, and I liked the way it made me feel.
“Did anybody bother you?” he asked eventually
I considered the question carefully before answering. “Polo’s whistling got to me after awhile.”
At last he smiled. “That ain’t what I meant.”
“I know,” I confessed. “No, no one bothered me. It was like I was invisible.”
He nodded, pleased with my response. The remainder of his tension evaporated into a sigh.
“Polo said you um—paid off some people to leave me alone?”
“He wasn’t supposed to do that.” He shook his head.
I gnawed my lip. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful or appalled. “So it’s true?”
Charlie stared out into the nothing of the ocean, but I knew the answer.
I tried to laugh. “And here I thought I was blending in so well.”
He looked back at me and grinned until my heart flipped. “Not with those legs.”
I pulled my hand away and tried to seem indifferent, but I’m still certain he saw my blush.
Mistaking my awkwardness for displeasure, I could feel him tense up beside me. I looked back and saw him shuffling his feet again. He had taken a step away from me and was now staring with a certain intensity at his boots.
I hesitated to touch him again lest it cause him further distress, but the urge for this simple affection and the feel of his skin unhinged me. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. Instantly his body became rigid, though I could feel his neck craning down to look on me. I felt like a fool—a complete imbecile. I should have just been grateful I was alive. Bothering him with my petty attempts might only irritate him further.
But just as the thought came through, he began tousling my hair. To my complete amazement he even leaned forward and buried his face in the remains of my ponytail, slowly removing the hair-tie and letting loose my hair. I curled my toes and inhaled deeply as I reminded myself of my name, street address, place of birth…
He took the tie and placed it around my wrist for safekeeping. I thought he would have surely felt the pulse there, threatening to explode at any second. What was scary wasn’t the physical reaction of my rapidly inflating and deflating lungs, the heartbeat in my ears, or even the pleasant dizziness that his closeness gave me. It was the awareness that at this very moment I would have done anything for this man—ignored all logic and common sense, and moral decency if he had asked me to. I wasn’t aware people were capable of feeling that way.
“It’s going to be okay, you know.” I don’t know who I said that for.
He sighed into my hair. I felt him smile there. “That’s real easy for somebody like you to say.”
I only pulled away enough so that he could see my face. I didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but I had a general idea and I didn’t like it. “No, it isn’t.”
His confusion was transparent through his furrowed brow. “I may not understand the stress of the criminal life or anything, but I worry about my brother every day, and I know what it’s like to watch someone you love get eaten away by disease.”
“I—”
I sighed and leaned back into his shoulder. I hadn’t meant to preach. “Just because life sucks sometimes doesn’t mean you have to be so angry all the time. Life isn’t easy for anyone, Charlie. You just have to look at things logically, that’s all. Stay sensible.”
He was eager to redeem himself. “If I was mad, and I ain’t saying I was, then maybe I couldn’t help it.”
“At least you’re admitting it, kind of, anyway.” I laughed.
I pulled away and looked into his eyes. The shirt he wore brought out the blue.
“Why are you so mad, Charlie Hays?”
He hesitated. “Sometimes my head gets all mixed up. I start thinkin’ ‘bout old stuff, jail, and the bad things I’ve done.” He sighed again and I felt his breath on my neck. I shivered against him.
He reached for a cigarette; this time he smoked it without any delay. I let the wind blow my hair wherever it wanted to. I was busy trying to contemplate what Charlie had just told me. Knowing that he had a reliable conscience was reassuring, but it disturbed me that he was so clearly agitated by his past. I wouldn’t have wished that for him, not for anything in the world. At the same time, it also made him seem more human, more mortal, to have a past. While it may have been selfish, I wanted to know everything about him, every detail that had led him to kidnap me.
There was no more caution left as I reached up and traced the outline of the serpent on his neck. I didn’t see earlier how the black outline of the body blended so well with the dark green, or how the eyes were shaped like diamonds and a faded sort of red. He shivered visibly when I pulled my hand away. I saw his breathing increase and the muscles on his neck flex, but he didn’t look at me, not just then, anyway. He smiled weakly instead.
“Yeah, it’s a kinda job killer.” He used his free hand to rub his neck right over the spot where the serpent lay. I suspected something was bothering him again. He seemed self-conscience all of the sudden, wanting to hide away.
I pulled his hand away and laughed. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I like it.”
He looked down at our hands and smiled.
“How long have you had that?”
“A few years.”
“Did you get it when you were in prison?”
I could tell my question took him off guard. Maybe he had forgotten what I already knew about him and our earlier conversations. Or maybe that was just a part of the past he wanted to forget—my constant reminding becoming an annoyance for him. I decided I wouldn’t ask him about prison anymore, because while I had every confidence he wouldn’t harm me, I still didn’t want to risk him losing his temper again and hurt himself or someone else. While we hadn’t known each other long, I could see that it was one of the main sources of his suffering.
“You gotta be a different person in there—lookin’ different helps.”
Not having much to contribute to the conversation, I tried to make it less uncomfortable with humor. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that appearances aren’t everything?”
He looked at me but didn’t smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. Sometimes you gotta act different, too.” For the rest of my life I’ll always remember what happened next. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned over his arm and put out the remaining end of the cigarette directly on his inner arm.
I screamed but covered my mouth when I heard the echo of it on the sea. He remained completely calm and unflinching as he damaged himself, really more like some kind of a robot than a man. It was only when he heard me shout that he pulled it away.
“Stop that!” I hit his arm as hard as I could until I was sure the offending weapon was away. Once that was done, I took his arm to inspect the damage. He gave it to me willingly, seemingly unaffected by the burn he had just given himself.
I could see the seared flesh in a perfect little circle where he had branded himself. The damage was already done, the blistering edge of healthy skin sheltering an angry red center. My lower lip began to tremble as I looked closer at the burn and all the rest that surrounded it. Placid white scars ran up and down his arm as evidence of his self-abuse. I could only guess how old some were. What was upsetting was how easily I could imagine him doing that to himself in an attempt to act like a lunatic. I placed my thumb over some of the faintest and smeared my tears that had fallen there.
He lifted my chin very slightly with the same delicacy one might treat a porcelain doll. But seeing the unrelenting tenderness he showed me side by side with his clear lack of self-regard just made me cry harder.
“The crazier you act, the easier it is to get by in there. That’s all,” he tried to reassure me with a smile, but I wasn’t having it.
“No!” My voice was so firm it extinguished the smile from his face.
“I don’t care what the social etiquette is amongst criminals! I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore, okay?” I was practically yelling, but it didn’t matter as long as I got my point across. “Promise me, okay? I know you don’t owe me anything, but I want you to promise me, Charlie, okay? Even if it’s a lie, promise you won’t do that ever again, or anything else like that!”
He silenced me by pulling me into his arms and letting me collapse there. Feeling my head against his chest and hearing his heart beating as fast as it was could have been enough to stop my tears, but his arms belted me in and offered a safety I had never experienced. It made me never want to leave. And honestly, if he offered me a lifetime pass to stay there I would have happily accepted right then and there.
“I promise, okay?” His voice cracked. Maybe he thought I was hysterical. “I promise. I promise. I promise. I promise…” He kept whispering the words in my ear until I settled down. “If it makes you happy, I’ll promise, okay?” He sounded completely desperate but managed to laugh a little of his Charlie laugh for me.
I breathed in the scent of him, feeling all at once ridiculous and relieved. He probably thought I was a nutcase who needed constant supervision or I might run wild on the ship. As long as I didn’t have to see him hurt himself intentionally ever again, that would have been fine with me.
“Did you know that almost all colors have some red, blue, and yellow in ‘em?” His voice was cracking so I just let him talk on—the sound of him was all that mattered in that moment.
“Midnight green doesn’t have any red. And the green and blue are as close as ‘bout two colors can be while still being separate…that’s what this color is,” he indicated to the serpent, “or was supposed to be.”
I could feel myself smiling. “You drew it yourself, didn’t you?”
“Of course.”
I pulled away and basked in his grin.