The Cove (42 page)

The number displayed was Ben’s home phone.

The phone rang a fourth time.

Julia knew she had one more ring before the phone would go to voice mail. Her hand was slick with sweat. The phone was slippery in her grip as she sawed her teeth across her lower lip.

I’m a goddamned fool.

“Hello?” she said.

L
ouise listened to the tight tremor in her voice as she spoke into the phone. She kept her voice low because she didn’t want to disturb her father, who was still passed out on the couch in the living room. She’d been through too much already today, and now she had something more to worry about.

“Hi — umm, Julia. This is — is Louise Marshall. Ben’s sister. I was — ahh — wondering if Ben’s with you now.”

“No, he’s not. I was hoping you knew where he was.”

“He and my other brother went out on the boat tonight, and they’re not back yet.”

“Oh, God,” Julia whispered, fearing the worst. “Oh, my God.”

L
ouise stared at the phone in her hand for a few seconds and then hung it back up. The cord was twisted into a huge knot which she didn’t bother to untangle. She looked around the kitchen, telling herself not to worry even after Julia had told her about her father dying and what she had told Ben about Pete.

Things are fine,
she told herself.

Her brothers were fine.

There was nothing wrong.

She felt sorry she’d bothered Julia. How was she supposed to know Julia’s father had died? Ben never told her anything.

Louise had promised to call Julia the minute she heard anything.

If they’d had any trouble, one of them … or the police … or the Coast Guard … or
someone
would have called.

She smiled when her gaze shifted over to the refrigerator, and she remembered the large jar of mayonnaise in there and what was hidden inside it.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she whispered to herself. Her shoulders shook with suppressed tears as she rubbed her hands together.

“Everything is
better
than fine.”

“O
kay. No radio. No flares. No cell phone. We’re fucked,” Ben said.

He was clinging to the boat, bobbing up and down in the gentle swells which were getting larger as the night went on.

How long can the boat stay afloat like this,
he wondered.

The air bubble inside the wheelhouse had to be filling up with water.

How long before the boat went under?

Tangled debris floated like a tattered scarf around the wreckage … things they could use for floatation if they needed, but the current was carrying them further away, dispersing them across the surface of the ocean in an ever-widening fan. Ben wondered when someone would see the flotsam and realize someone was in trouble. Maybe the guys on the trawler they were supposed to meet would come to their rescue.

Wouldn’t that be ironic?

But no matter where he looked, all he saw was the vast expanse of the heaving ocean and the thin, black line of land far to the west.

Pete was clinging to the bow of the boat, his silhouette a solid black stain against the starry night sky.

“I asked, how fucked are we, little brother?” Ben called out. His voice sounded curiously flat in the night.

Pete didn’t answer. Ben knew his brother was still alive only because he hadn’t slipped off the boat and gone under. He couldn’t stop shivering. His chattering teeth sounded like he was rattling dice in his hand.

“Someone’s gonna see us … Sooner or later … Right? … All we have to do is hang on.”

“It’s cold as a witch’s tit!” Pete shouted, his voice strained and shrill.

“Keep moving … Keep your circulation going,” Ben said.

He considered letting go of the boat and swimming closer to his brother, but he was so cold he was afraid his arms and legs might not obey his commands and move the way he wanted them to. It was hard enough keeping a grip on the slippery bottom of the boat. As new as it was, it already had a thin coating of slime that was as slick as oil. Even a few barnacles had attached themselves to the hull. They were cutting into his hands and arms.

“So … let’s keep talking at least,” Ben said. “It’ll help pass the time … keep us awake and focused.”

“I’d rather you kept your goddamned mouth shut, if you don’t mind,” Pete shouted.

Ben was taken aback. He shook his head and asked, “Why the fucking hostility? It’s not like I —”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about, you and me” Pete said.

Even in the darkness, Ben knew that his brother had turned his face away from him like a child in the middle of a snit. This was followed by a long silence that was broken only by the huffing of their breath and the gentle slapping sound of water against the hull.

“What time’s it now?” Ben shouted after

“What’s it matter? We ain’t gonna make it.”

“Come on, now,” Ben said. “I don’t want to hear any talk like that. That’s ‘stinkin’ thinkin’.’”

When Pete didn’t laugh at the old
Saturday Night Live
joke, Ben started moving, hand over hand, closer to his brother. He told himself it was as much to keep moving to stay warm as it was to get closer to his brother in order to reassure him.

“Everything I’ve ever read about … you know, about survival situations like this, they say the people who survive are the ones who don’t lose their cool.”

“Really?” Pete said with a snarl. “So now you’re gonna tell me how to behave so I’ll live through this?”

He paused and must have gotten a mouthful of seawater because Ben heard him gag and then spit.

“No … I’m just saying …”

“You know what?” Pete said. “That’s one of the shit load of things about you that pisses me the fuck off.”

“What’s that?”

“That you think you know
everything
… and you talk to me — you treat me like I … like I don’t even have a goddamned brain.”

“It’s just … you’re my little brother, and I … I gotta take care of you.”

“Really?”

It was tough for Ben not to remind Pete that he was the one who got them into this situation. But Ben knew it had been his idea to do this tonight. He could have stayed home … or stayed with Julia at the hospital. He had done this to help the family out, but it was obvious Pete wasn’t going to listen to
that.

“This is about her, isn’t it?” Ben asked after a long moment of silence.

“Who?”

“Julia.”

Pete snapped his head around so Ben knew he was looking straight at him even though he couldn’t see clearly in the darkness.

“It has nothing to do with that cunt,” Pete said, his voice low and twisted.

Ben bristled at his brother’s use of that word about Julia. He experienced a surge of anger like he’d never felt before. It took effort to tamp it down.

Now wasn’t the time to confront Pete about this or that night behind The Local or his slashed tires. They had to depend on each other and hang on if they were going to survive the night.

“So … what time is it?” Ben asked again, hoping to move past the topic.

Pete raised his arm and then said, “Almost three o’clock.”

“There, see? Night’s passing fast. We’ll make it. Only a couple of hours now ’til dawn.”

As he spoke, he craned his head around and looked to the east hoping to see a hint of the approaching dawn. The sky shimmered with dusty starlight that turned the horizon a muted gray, but there wasn’t even the faintest hint of the sun. The tangy smell of saltwater was cloying in his throat.

“And
then
what?” Pete asked. “I mean — seriously. You really think someone’s gonna see us?”

“We have to hope so.”

“I’m freezing my fuckin’ ass off, and to tell you the God’s honest truth, I don’t see a whole lot to live for.”

“Don’t be talking like that, little bro,” Ben said, panicking at the thought that his brother was giving up.

“Jesus, will you cut it with the little brother bullshit?” Pete clenched his fist and pounded the hull of the boat, making it resonate with a hollow thump.

“
Fuck!
” he snarled, and he shook his hand as though he’d hurt it bad.

“I’m trying to stay positive here, is all,” Ben said.

“Well I sure as hell don’t need any positive bullshit from
you,
all right?”

“Yeah … Sure … Fine.”

“That’s how it’s been my whole goddamned life … and I’ll tell yah — I’m sick to fuckin’ death of it!”

“Jesus, relax. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Ben said. He was surprised by his brother’s outburst, but he chalked it up to Pete’s gathering panic and humiliation at getting them into this situation. He thought about moving further away from his brother. Forget about him. Let him roar all he wants, but before he could say or do anything, Pete dropped into the water and pushed off so he was treading water a few feet away from the boat. His head was a black sphere that bobbed up and down like a lobster buoy.

“What the
fuck
are you doing?” Ben called out as panic rose inside him.

He stared at Pete, terrified by what he was thinking while, at the same time, trying to grasp the dread seriousness of their situation. He had seen enough men panic in the heat of battle or crack under the constant, grinding strain of war.

He recognized it when he saw it now.

“Come back to the boat and let’s talk about it,” he called out. His brother made faint splashing sounds as he tread water.

“We’re gonna be fine, Pete. We’ll figure it out.”

“No … Fuck you,” Pete said, his voice barely audible above the splashing of water against the hull. He was moving further away from the boat, but Ben wasn’t sure if he was swimming away or drifting along with the current.

“Jesus Christ, Pete. Cut the bullshit and get back on the boat.”

No answer.

“It’s gonna be light soon. Someone’s bound to see us.”

“What’s the point?” Pete said, his voice sounding weaker, now … defeated. Ben knew exhaustion and hypothermia were setting in.

“No one cares if I live or die.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“No one.” His voice was strained, close to tears.

“Of course people care,” Ben said. “I care … Pops cares … And Louise.”

Pete’s dismissive laughter sounded loud and clear in the darkness as if he were close beside Ben in the darkness.

“Am I gonna have to swim over there and kick your ass?” Ben said.

“You mean like you always did?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”

“
You!
I’m sick and fucking tired of
you
, Ben!”

“Settle the fuck down, will yah? ’N get the Christ back here. I mean it. Look. The horizon’s getting brighter. See?”

Pete didn’t even bother to turn and look in the direction Ben was indicating, but an infinitely small streak of gray lighting was glowing on the distant edge of the sea. It flickered like a mirage.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Pete said. “I’ve had it. I’m sick to fuckin’ death of always being second place … of always losing out to you. I’ll never be anything but the loser brother of the big hero. Basketball star. Soldier. Friggin’ war hero. So you know what? Go fuck yourself, Ben. You got that? Go
fuck
yourself.”

“What the hell are you —” Ben started to say, but he paused when a thought struck him.

“If this is about losing Pops’ boat, then screw it. We’ll deal with that later. Pops’ll get another one. All you have to do right now is calm down and get back to the boat.”

“Will you stop telling me what to do all the time? Jesus
Christ!
You don’t control me!”

Ben didn’t know what to say, and he was in a quandary about what to do next. If he swam out to his brother and there was a struggle, they’d both end up going under. But it was obvious Pete was well past reasoning.

He had to do
something.

But a dreadful sense of helplessness and hopelessness filled Ben, and he couldn’t help but confuse what was happening now with what he had gone through in Iraq — especially one night in particular.

“You can’t do this to me, Pete,” he shouted, fighting back the panic that twisted inside him like a fouled rope. “You can’t do this to me or to Pops or to Louise!”

“The fuck I can’t,” Pete said in a voice that had the vocal equivalent of the thousand-yard stare.

“This is because of Julia, isn’t it?”

Pete stopped treading water and turned to look back at his brother. The tension crackled between them like a lightning charge leaping from sky to earth and back to the sky.

“Who?” he said sarcastically