End of the Line (44 page)

             
The sun was high in the sky. It was getting on noon. Sunset was around seven. We would have to park the boat before then. Without light, electricity or GPS, I wouldn’t be able to see what was out there.

             
We caught a break. A lovely breeze took us four knots and by the time we dropped anchor, we had passed Fishers Island and were on the ocean. It was quiet, dark and lovely with a sunset beyond amazing. With no lights from the island, and a lack of pollution made it a pinkish and yellow matte painting. Even the seas were calm. People spent the day sorting, working out their room arrangements and trying to figure out a place for the bulkier items. Dave and Mike threw unnecessary things overboard like the big screen TV which I watched sink into the murky water. 

             
In the end, the yacht looked like a refugee boat camp but I guess that’s what we were now. I was no longer a princess but a lonely refugee.

             
Dave took a crew bed with Olive, and Tanya took the other with her cat but I didn’t know how comfortable she would be in a confined space. Mike, Hannah, and the three kids took the two-cabin suite, Jim and Eric took the small cabin and Annemarie and Henry took the other. I thought about sleeping outside as long as it wasn’t too cold.

In the morning, we took the boat about another ten miles. I could even see the Vineyard. My mother got the summer house there and the Paris apartment in the divorce. I imagined her dead or living it up without children the way she always wanted to. Tanya and I went below deck and she sealed the doors. Jim was chatting with Tanya in the lounge area. Dave sat on one on the couches with his dog. I heard voices from the bedrooms. I had been up for 2
4 hours but didn’t feel sleepy.

I opened my bag and rummaged around it. I pulled out a two large bottles. I didn’t want to give them up, but I knew if I had to face this new reality. A reality without Edina, Uncle Len, Joe and Daddy, without my money, or my prestige or tailored clothes. There’s that or again. I had to face it sober. I walked over to Jim and handed it to him.

He looked it over. “Vicodin and Xanax?”

“I did take some but I saved the rest.”

“What were you saving the rest for?”

“When we ran out of bullets.”

Jim didn’t get a chance to respond because I began to cry, not the misty eyed tears Jim gets when thinking about Cameron, sobbing.

Jim and Tanya looked unsure about my weeping, so Jim held me. His strong arms reminded me of my brother. I didn’t want to cry in front of them, but when my father died, when Joe died-- I never cried for them. They were my life, my rock, everything to me.

When I realized I had broken down in front of them, that I let them see me vulnerable, I pulled away. Jim was silent as I left his arms. I turned around to face the pretty picture window and the blue sky

Then a flash lit it up, brighter than the sun. It looked beautiful.

Coming Soon: the sequel:
Stuck in the Middle
. Expected publication date: October 2013.

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COPYRIGHT 2012 Lara Frater Desperate Measures Press

Cover by Dave Mauzy 2012

Acknowledgments.

I’d like to thank the following people for their wonderful help: Frannie Zellman, Maxime Laboy, Jonathan Frater, Dave Mauzy, and Lesleigh Owens for their helpful feedback, criticism and painful proofreading.

If you open up the doors, we'll all come inside and eat your brains. – Jonathan Coulton Re:Your Brains