SNOWBERRY
(excerpt)
Hey Aki – hope you had a good day at school! Remember, you have piano lessons tonight at 7. I left directions on the doorknob so you don’t get lost. Anyway, please don't try to cook tonight. I don't want you setting anything on fire again. Grandmum’s leftover casserole is in the fridge, and you can heat it up... if you can find the microwave. If you don’t want any of that, I left some money on the counter for you to order take out. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up!
Love ya,
Mom
Looking at the hazardously piled countertop, I spotted a few pound notes peaking out under a teetering box of Cheerios. Here in the middle of nowhere, I wasn’t even sure where to phone for food.
I swiped the pink sticky note off the old fridge and tossed it in the wastebasket. Kicking aside any cardboard box that dared get in my way, I shuffled upstairs to my new room. Once within face-planting distance of my unmade bed, I tossed my bag aside and claimed my space with a perfect Aki-shaped crater.
It was only the first day and I already wanted the whole school year to be over with. Whoever said that high school was the best time of their life was clearly delusional, or suffering from amnesia. My thoughts drifted back to my first day at my new school and I groaned like I got kicked in the stomach.
It's too bad I couldn't take a sabbatical from learning. Dragging myself upright again, I stripped out of my old jeans and hoodie, and jammed my jelly limbs into the holes of the closest t-shirt and track pants I could find.
Who cares about piano lessons? I can’t believe my mom. I can’t believe she’s still paying for lessons on top of raising me on her own.
I can’t believe she uprooted us all the way out here – to another country altogether.
Unable to find the peace I wanted in my room, I sat up again and stared out the window. As much as I didn’t like this quiet little town up in Nowheresville, Scotland, I saw the perk of living here. It was quiet, unlike the extreme hustle and bustle of New York City. The air felt clean and cold. Even the ocean was no more than a half an hour walk away from where I lived, provided I was wearing the right shoes for rock climbing and the occasional cow pie.
And here, no one would come looking for us.
Grabbing the crushed windbreaker from a pile of clothes on my chair, I threw it on as I escaped the ringing silence that threatened to deafen me.
Outside, the cold wind whipped up against my face as I made my way towards a private cove. I didn’t need directions for that much at least. It’s not like it was the first time I’ve ever been to Plockton. My dad had grown up here before he’d met my mom in college back in the States. They got married, but he'd always wanted to go back to Scotland while my mom wanted to raise me in America.
Dad stayed with us, but then he moved back out here a couple years ago. Mom and I visited him and my grandparents a few times during my summer vacations. I happened to like the Highlands a lot, but it wasn’t home to me. America was. New York City was. But now I can’t go back.
Scotland was beautiful year round. I’d never been here when the seasons turned colder, but now here I was in the beginning of October. Ironically, my first day at my dad’s old high school was the last day of their first autumn term. We didn’t have terms back in New York. We had a winter and spring semester, made up of two marking periods each. There was a short Thanksgiving break in the fall, but here our autumn break was a three-week deal.
I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. While the other kids weren’t openly teasing on my first day, I saw the amused looks I got. I was the new kid with the foreign, American accent. I think even some of the teachers had a hard time understanding me as much as I did understanding them. I didn’t try to hide it, but I was embarrassed all the same.
So when school finally let out, I made a beeline for the doors and ignored the biting wind as I hurried off the school grounds.
Normally, I would have loved the open outdoors, but all I felt was misery. Even the drizzle and chill seemed to agree with me, though it was usually rainy and cold year round anyway. My eyes barely took in the wet, dirt paths and towering trees. Instead, I trekked off a beaten earth road for livestock and edged my way down a familiar cliff face. It was a shortcut to the small, private cove where my grandfather’s fishing boat would be.
Or would have been.
I stared at the now deserted shoreline. A desolate feeling overcame me, suddenly making me feel much smaller and lonelier than I’d ever felt. I bent down and started looking for seashells, even though I’d combed this place clean in the past. I’d just rather do anything other than cry. I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime, despite my short fifteen years.
A seagull wailed in the distance, inciting what sounded like ten more to join its incessant racket. I’d never liked them much. They pooped everywhere and had mean, little eyes. It didn’t help that I’d been chased around by one of those bad-tempered feathered imps when I was younger.
No matter how much I tried to ignore their squawking, it just seemed to get louder. If seagulls knew English, I might have yelled back some choice insults. Instead, I shot them an irritated glance and stood up, ready to move further down the shore to vacate their noisy radius. But what was caught in their midst out in the open waves made me stop dead in my tracks.
Before I'd even registered what I was doing, I’d torn off my sneakers and windbreaker in a matter of seconds. Without considering just how cold the sea was, I plunged into the dark waters. The first piercing chill of the waves seemed to paralyze my lungs for a scary, heart-stopping second, but soon I was cutting desperately through the strong currents to reach the target of the seagulls some distance out into the cove.
It felt like an hour just trying to reach them, and by the time I did, my leaden body was screaming bloody murder from the cold. I could hardly stay afloat since it was like commanding non-existent limbs to keep pushing at the water.
The seagulls didn’t make it any easier with their huge flapping wings, whipping water into my face. Without wasting my quickly dwindling energy, I groped around the neck of the pale, slippery figure the best I could.
I just hoped I wasn’t hauling in a dead body.
...
The waves seemed to push us out even further past the point I’d remembered swimming out to, but I ordered my body to move in what I hoped was some form of swimming. Having never jumped in bone-chilling water to save someone, I could only hope that I wouldn't drown the both of us. What seemed like twice as long as swimming out, I managed to somehow pull us both onto the shore. I wheezed loudly, lying there with my cheek smushed into the grainy brown sand.
Trembling, I hauled myself up again and looked down at the person I’d done my hardest to save.
He was a boy, I could see that much. In fact, I could see a bit too much. He wasn’t even wearing underwear. And as far as I knew, there weren't any nude beaches around here.
Tearing my eyes away from the bizarreness of the situation, I felt for a pulse and checked for any signs of breathing. To my huge relief, I realized he was very much alive. But it also wasn’t long after I figured he was mostly fine that I realized everything wasn’t quite all right. I hadn’t noticed it when I pulled him out of the water, but he was bleeding. A lot. The water had been clearing away the blood, but now that we were on land, I could see the red blossoming from angry gashes just under his ribs and up one shoulder. It almost looked like he had gotten in a fight with a shark and lost.
Or, he was an especially suicidal skinny dipper who was mad enough to dive off a cliff this time of year.
Despite the teeth-chattering cold that threatened to paralyze me, I was ready to take off my own shirt to attempt stemming his mauled flesh when my old windbreaker caught the corner of my eye.
Of course, I thought wryly. We didn’t need any more naked teenagers on an icy, deserted beach.
Throwing my oversized jacket over him, I struggled to make a bandage-tourniquet of sorts. Looking around, I thought of calling for help, but realized we were the only ones around for miles. When I left the house, I hadn’t left with the intention of being found. And besides, even if I had my phone, I doubted there'd be any service out here.
Looking down at the guy, I thought of what I could do. He looked pale from blood loss, and could really use some proper bandages. Which meant the only way I could call for help was from the house… But that would mean leaving him here for almost two hours. No good. I’d have to stay here and make sure the worst of his wounds had stopped gushing. But at this rate, he'd die from hypothermia, blood loss, or both.
Think, Aki, think.
Looking over to the trees nearby, I remembered there was a little sheltered area – a dip in the cliff – which I used to play in and make mud cities for worms. It was probably a bad idea moving him and risk aggravating his wounds, so my mind jumped to the next option.
My dad had shown me a little tool shed nearby. I remembered him telling me about the emergency stuff stocked for the boat. Getting up, I took off in a stiff job, hoping I was going in the right direction. Leaving the unfortunate boy for twenty minutes was better than two hours, but there had better be a first aid kit in the shed.
After poking around in the woods and doubling back a few times, I finally found the elusive shed and thanked whatever was out there that it wasn’t locked. I threw open the moldy door and set about looking for anything useful. To my great relief, there was a rescue kit and some fireproof blankets sitting under layers of cobwebs. I just hoped the blankets weren’t vermin infested.
When I got back, I was relieved to see he was still there... Surrounded by squawking seagulls no less.
“Hey!” I yelled storming on scene and whipping the blankets around me to scare off the intruders. Without much of a fight, the crowd of birds took off in startled cries, their sharp beady eyes shooting daggers at me as they scattered.
After some gentle pushing and pulling, I managed to ease his body onto one of the heavy blankets I had. Covering him up with the rest, I peeled back my ruined windbreaker and began cleaning the painful looking flesh with the antiseptic and clean gauze left in the kit. The wound looked like it would need stitches, though… maybe it was the fading light, but I could have sworn the flesh had looked worse earlier. Ignoring the frost still numbing my trembling fingers, I cleaned gently. At least it looked like he wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, much to my relief.
Once I’d done what I could, I pressed more clean gauze to the angry looking skin and proceeded to wrap it. When his torso looked like that of a mummy’s, I tore and clinched the wrapping. The dip in the cliff was only a few feet away, so hoping my handiwork could keep him together, I carefully dragged him around the larger rocks that obscured the rocky awning I was sure was still there.
By the time I was done positioning him and making sure he wasn’t bleeding through the gauze, I was sweating bullets. Steam could have been coming off my skin for all I knew, but it only made the chill wind feel like pure ice against my skin. Pulling the blankets up, I tucked him in to seal out the cold air. It wasn’t until after I’d rinsed my bloodied hands in the seawater nearby and sat down next to him with an extra blanket thrown over me, that I let myself take a good look at his face.
After fixing him up, I learned a few things about him. He was built like a swimmer, with smooth but deceptively strong muscles. He was probably someone who could slice through churning water like a pro. And he might’ve even had a pleasant tan from being in the water day in day out, but he’d looked more like a white ghost haunting the waves when I’d first seen him floating out there under a swarm of noisy gulls.
Huddling even more under my blanket, I watched his face thoughtfully. Originally pale and blue-lipped, he seemed to have regained some color. I don’t know why, but under his thick mop of wet brown hair, he looked like someone who was used to smiling a lot. Maybe it was the slight curve at the corner of his mouth or… something. I don’t know, but it was hard to put into words. And at the moment, I don’t think I really cared. I just hoped he’d wake up so I could leave and get him some proper help.
I itched the annoying midge bites on my neck and face as I watched the clouded sun descending into the murky waters. One look at my watch told me it was already six-thirty. I could have sworn it felt so much later than that, but then again, a lot had happened in the span of a single afternoon. I’d just jumped into freezing water for who knows how long to save another kid who’s been in there for who knows how long, and now we’re both freezing on the drizzly, dim shore with nothing but a fading sky for light.
My heart leapt to my throat.
If I didn’t get home by sundown, I wasn’t sure I could find my way back without a flashlight. There were too many steep outcrops and other ledges to climb up safely without seeing where I was going. And I sure as hell didn’t want to test the eroded cliff in the dark. Besides, I didn’t know how late my mom would get home seeing as a late night for her could easily end in the early hours of the morning.
We may have communicated more through post-its than actual talking lately, but I knew she’d go berserk if she went home and I wasn’t there. I hadn’t even bothered to leave a message on the fridge before I left.
Burying my face against my knees, I shivered under the damp blanket as guilt gnawed at me.
Mom was one of those people who cried as easily as she laughed. I used to think she was just an excitable, emotional person, but then Dad left when I turned ten, and she wasn’t quite the same anymore. It’s not like he just took off one day. He did tell us in advance that he was returning to Scotland. They’d settled everything amicably, but I never knew why she didn’t put up much of a fight for him to stay. I know I did.
She said she knew he’d return one day, but hadn’t seemed all that assured. Besides, Granddad’s fishing boat needed someone to tend to it since he was getting too old to do it all by himself. And like Granddad, that boat had seen better days, but Dad told me it was reliable and sturdy as always. He’d taken my stupid Hello Kitty handkerchief with him, which he’d tied to its mast like a mini flag.
The year he moved back here, my mom had me visit him. That summer, I’d been sullen and even more quiet-spoken than usual, but once he got me out to sea, it was like I’d understood why he came back. I’d understood his need to be close to the water.
But that was until we got that call from Grandmum. Granddad and Dad had taken the boat out one morning, and an unexpectedly strong storm had taken them by surprise. Even the Scottish Coastguard had gone out to look for them, and yet nothing was ever found. They were presumed dead after a few months of missing.
Grandmum was devastated – we all were. At the funeral two years ago, Mom promised her we would move back as soon as she finished wrapping things up over in New York. It probably would have taken longer than three years, but then, we were forced to move sooner because of me.
I would have continued mulling miserably had I not heard a soft groan escape my half-dead patient.
Reaching out a clammy hand, I felt his forehead. His skin was surprisingly warm, especially after reeling him in from an icy grave... His eyelashes tickled my skin, startling me out of my thoughts. But as soon as I pulled my hand away, he turned towards me like he was still seeking my palm before stilling again.
“Hey, can you hear me?” I asked.
No answer. I hoped he could hear me.
“I have to get you help, but it's getting dark. If I want to make it to a phone before sundown…” I fidgeted, feeling like an idiot, “Um, will you be okay?”
Casting an anxious glance at the sun, I looked back at him and realized I could barely see his face. With the disappearing light, I lifted his covers to see his injured torso. It didn’t look like it was bleeding anymore, so I tucked him back in. As long as he wasn’t freezing or bleeding, I figured he’d live long enough for me to phone for help.
But just as I was getting to my feet, I felt a strong hand close around my wrist. I instinctively pulled away, but his vice-like grip only tightened. I was about to pry his fingers off, when I heard him murmur.
He opened his eyes slightly, but it was getting too dark to discern their color. All I could tell was that he wasn’t quite focusing yet. His voice was so weak, I had to lean in closer to hear him.
“D-don’t…”
I knit my brows. “I have to go. You won’t survive a night out here without help.”
“No…” he winced as he tried to move and stilled again, “Don’t. Don’t tell.”
“You’ll die,” I grit my teeth, trying and failing to remove his bruising grip from now-bloodless hand, "Ow, let go! You're hurting me."
“No,” he sighed painfully, clearer this time, “Promise.”
Looking at the setting light over the horizon, I grit my teeth. If this guy wanted to make his grave here, I should let him. I’d done all I could for his sorry naked bum. Today had been really trying, and my nerves had been fried, boiled, and dry-frozen all in one evening.
“Whatever,” I said grudgingly, "I promise."
Love ya,
Mom
Looking at the hazardously piled countertop, I spotted a few pound notes peaking out under a teetering box of Cheerios. Here in the middle of nowhere, I wasn’t even sure where to phone for food.
I swiped the pink sticky note off the old fridge and tossed it in the wastebasket. Kicking aside any cardboard box that dared get in my way, I shuffled upstairs to my new room. Once within face-planting distance of my unmade bed, I tossed my bag aside and claimed my space with a perfect Aki-shaped crater.
It was only the first day and I already wanted the whole school year to be over with. Whoever said that high school was the best time of their life was clearly delusional, or suffering from amnesia. My thoughts drifted back to my first day at my new school and I groaned like I got kicked in the stomach.
It's too bad I couldn't take a sabbatical from learning. Dragging myself upright again, I stripped out of my old jeans and hoodie, and jammed my jelly limbs into the holes of the closest t-shirt and track pants I could find.
Who cares about piano lessons? I can’t believe my mom. I can’t believe she’s still paying for lessons on top of raising me on her own.
I can’t believe she uprooted us all the way out here – to another country altogether.
Unable to find the peace I wanted in my room, I sat up again and stared out the window. As much as I didn’t like this quiet little town up in Nowheresville, Scotland, I saw the perk of living here. It was quiet, unlike the extreme hustle and bustle of New York City. The air felt clean and cold. Even the ocean was no more than a half an hour walk away from where I lived, provided I was wearing the right shoes for rock climbing and the occasional cow pie.
And here, no one would come looking for us.
Grabbing the crushed windbreaker from a pile of clothes on my chair, I threw it on as I escaped the ringing silence that threatened to deafen me.
Outside, the cold wind whipped up against my face as I made my way towards a private cove. I didn’t need directions for that much at least. It’s not like it was the first time I’ve ever been to Plockton. My dad had grown up here before he’d met my mom in college back in the States. They got married, but he'd always wanted to go back to Scotland while my mom wanted to raise me in America.
Dad stayed with us, but then he moved back out here a couple years ago. Mom and I visited him and my grandparents a few times during my summer vacations. I happened to like the Highlands a lot, but it wasn’t home to me. America was. New York City was. But now I can’t go back.
Scotland was beautiful year round. I’d never been here when the seasons turned colder, but now here I was in the beginning of October. Ironically, my first day at my dad’s old high school was the last day of their first autumn term. We didn’t have terms back in New York. We had a winter and spring semester, made up of two marking periods each. There was a short Thanksgiving break in the fall, but here our autumn break was a three-week deal.
I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. While the other kids weren’t openly teasing on my first day, I saw the amused looks I got. I was the new kid with the foreign, American accent. I think even some of the teachers had a hard time understanding me as much as I did understanding them. I didn’t try to hide it, but I was embarrassed all the same.
So when school finally let out, I made a beeline for the doors and ignored the biting wind as I hurried off the school grounds.
Normally, I would have loved the open outdoors, but all I felt was misery. Even the drizzle and chill seemed to agree with me, though it was usually rainy and cold year round anyway. My eyes barely took in the wet, dirt paths and towering trees. Instead, I trekked off a beaten earth road for livestock and edged my way down a familiar cliff face. It was a shortcut to the small, private cove where my grandfather’s fishing boat would be.
Or would have been.
I stared at the now deserted shoreline. A desolate feeling overcame me, suddenly making me feel much smaller and lonelier than I’d ever felt. I bent down and started looking for seashells, even though I’d combed this place clean in the past. I’d just rather do anything other than cry. I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime, despite my short fifteen years.
A seagull wailed in the distance, inciting what sounded like ten more to join its incessant racket. I’d never liked them much. They pooped everywhere and had mean, little eyes. It didn’t help that I’d been chased around by one of those bad-tempered feathered imps when I was younger.
No matter how much I tried to ignore their squawking, it just seemed to get louder. If seagulls knew English, I might have yelled back some choice insults. Instead, I shot them an irritated glance and stood up, ready to move further down the shore to vacate their noisy radius. But what was caught in their midst out in the open waves made me stop dead in my tracks.
Before I'd even registered what I was doing, I’d torn off my sneakers and windbreaker in a matter of seconds. Without considering just how cold the sea was, I plunged into the dark waters. The first piercing chill of the waves seemed to paralyze my lungs for a scary, heart-stopping second, but soon I was cutting desperately through the strong currents to reach the target of the seagulls some distance out into the cove.
It felt like an hour just trying to reach them, and by the time I did, my leaden body was screaming bloody murder from the cold. I could hardly stay afloat since it was like commanding non-existent limbs to keep pushing at the water.
The seagulls didn’t make it any easier with their huge flapping wings, whipping water into my face. Without wasting my quickly dwindling energy, I groped around the neck of the pale, slippery figure the best I could.
I just hoped I wasn’t hauling in a dead body.
...
The waves seemed to push us out even further past the point I’d remembered swimming out to, but I ordered my body to move in what I hoped was some form of swimming. Having never jumped in bone-chilling water to save someone, I could only hope that I wouldn't drown the both of us. What seemed like twice as long as swimming out, I managed to somehow pull us both onto the shore. I wheezed loudly, lying there with my cheek smushed into the grainy brown sand.
Trembling, I hauled myself up again and looked down at the person I’d done my hardest to save.
He was a boy, I could see that much. In fact, I could see a bit too much. He wasn’t even wearing underwear. And as far as I knew, there weren't any nude beaches around here.
Tearing my eyes away from the bizarreness of the situation, I felt for a pulse and checked for any signs of breathing. To my huge relief, I realized he was very much alive. But it also wasn’t long after I figured he was mostly fine that I realized everything wasn’t quite all right. I hadn’t noticed it when I pulled him out of the water, but he was bleeding. A lot. The water had been clearing away the blood, but now that we were on land, I could see the red blossoming from angry gashes just under his ribs and up one shoulder. It almost looked like he had gotten in a fight with a shark and lost.
Or, he was an especially suicidal skinny dipper who was mad enough to dive off a cliff this time of year.
Despite the teeth-chattering cold that threatened to paralyze me, I was ready to take off my own shirt to attempt stemming his mauled flesh when my old windbreaker caught the corner of my eye.
Of course, I thought wryly. We didn’t need any more naked teenagers on an icy, deserted beach.
Throwing my oversized jacket over him, I struggled to make a bandage-tourniquet of sorts. Looking around, I thought of calling for help, but realized we were the only ones around for miles. When I left the house, I hadn’t left with the intention of being found. And besides, even if I had my phone, I doubted there'd be any service out here.
Looking down at the guy, I thought of what I could do. He looked pale from blood loss, and could really use some proper bandages. Which meant the only way I could call for help was from the house… But that would mean leaving him here for almost two hours. No good. I’d have to stay here and make sure the worst of his wounds had stopped gushing. But at this rate, he'd die from hypothermia, blood loss, or both.
Think, Aki, think.
Looking over to the trees nearby, I remembered there was a little sheltered area – a dip in the cliff – which I used to play in and make mud cities for worms. It was probably a bad idea moving him and risk aggravating his wounds, so my mind jumped to the next option.
My dad had shown me a little tool shed nearby. I remembered him telling me about the emergency stuff stocked for the boat. Getting up, I took off in a stiff job, hoping I was going in the right direction. Leaving the unfortunate boy for twenty minutes was better than two hours, but there had better be a first aid kit in the shed.
After poking around in the woods and doubling back a few times, I finally found the elusive shed and thanked whatever was out there that it wasn’t locked. I threw open the moldy door and set about looking for anything useful. To my great relief, there was a rescue kit and some fireproof blankets sitting under layers of cobwebs. I just hoped the blankets weren’t vermin infested.
When I got back, I was relieved to see he was still there... Surrounded by squawking seagulls no less.
“Hey!” I yelled storming on scene and whipping the blankets around me to scare off the intruders. Without much of a fight, the crowd of birds took off in startled cries, their sharp beady eyes shooting daggers at me as they scattered.
After some gentle pushing and pulling, I managed to ease his body onto one of the heavy blankets I had. Covering him up with the rest, I peeled back my ruined windbreaker and began cleaning the painful looking flesh with the antiseptic and clean gauze left in the kit. The wound looked like it would need stitches, though… maybe it was the fading light, but I could have sworn the flesh had looked worse earlier. Ignoring the frost still numbing my trembling fingers, I cleaned gently. At least it looked like he wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, much to my relief.
Once I’d done what I could, I pressed more clean gauze to the angry looking skin and proceeded to wrap it. When his torso looked like that of a mummy’s, I tore and clinched the wrapping. The dip in the cliff was only a few feet away, so hoping my handiwork could keep him together, I carefully dragged him around the larger rocks that obscured the rocky awning I was sure was still there.
By the time I was done positioning him and making sure he wasn’t bleeding through the gauze, I was sweating bullets. Steam could have been coming off my skin for all I knew, but it only made the chill wind feel like pure ice against my skin. Pulling the blankets up, I tucked him in to seal out the cold air. It wasn’t until after I’d rinsed my bloodied hands in the seawater nearby and sat down next to him with an extra blanket thrown over me, that I let myself take a good look at his face.
After fixing him up, I learned a few things about him. He was built like a swimmer, with smooth but deceptively strong muscles. He was probably someone who could slice through churning water like a pro. And he might’ve even had a pleasant tan from being in the water day in day out, but he’d looked more like a white ghost haunting the waves when I’d first seen him floating out there under a swarm of noisy gulls.
Huddling even more under my blanket, I watched his face thoughtfully. Originally pale and blue-lipped, he seemed to have regained some color. I don’t know why, but under his thick mop of wet brown hair, he looked like someone who was used to smiling a lot. Maybe it was the slight curve at the corner of his mouth or… something. I don’t know, but it was hard to put into words. And at the moment, I don’t think I really cared. I just hoped he’d wake up so I could leave and get him some proper help.
I itched the annoying midge bites on my neck and face as I watched the clouded sun descending into the murky waters. One look at my watch told me it was already six-thirty. I could have sworn it felt so much later than that, but then again, a lot had happened in the span of a single afternoon. I’d just jumped into freezing water for who knows how long to save another kid who’s been in there for who knows how long, and now we’re both freezing on the drizzly, dim shore with nothing but a fading sky for light.
My heart leapt to my throat.
If I didn’t get home by sundown, I wasn’t sure I could find my way back without a flashlight. There were too many steep outcrops and other ledges to climb up safely without seeing where I was going. And I sure as hell didn’t want to test the eroded cliff in the dark. Besides, I didn’t know how late my mom would get home seeing as a late night for her could easily end in the early hours of the morning.
We may have communicated more through post-its than actual talking lately, but I knew she’d go berserk if she went home and I wasn’t there. I hadn’t even bothered to leave a message on the fridge before I left.
Burying my face against my knees, I shivered under the damp blanket as guilt gnawed at me.
Mom was one of those people who cried as easily as she laughed. I used to think she was just an excitable, emotional person, but then Dad left when I turned ten, and she wasn’t quite the same anymore. It’s not like he just took off one day. He did tell us in advance that he was returning to Scotland. They’d settled everything amicably, but I never knew why she didn’t put up much of a fight for him to stay. I know I did.
She said she knew he’d return one day, but hadn’t seemed all that assured. Besides, Granddad’s fishing boat needed someone to tend to it since he was getting too old to do it all by himself. And like Granddad, that boat had seen better days, but Dad told me it was reliable and sturdy as always. He’d taken my stupid Hello Kitty handkerchief with him, which he’d tied to its mast like a mini flag.
The year he moved back here, my mom had me visit him. That summer, I’d been sullen and even more quiet-spoken than usual, but once he got me out to sea, it was like I’d understood why he came back. I’d understood his need to be close to the water.
But that was until we got that call from Grandmum. Granddad and Dad had taken the boat out one morning, and an unexpectedly strong storm had taken them by surprise. Even the Scottish Coastguard had gone out to look for them, and yet nothing was ever found. They were presumed dead after a few months of missing.
Grandmum was devastated – we all were. At the funeral two years ago, Mom promised her we would move back as soon as she finished wrapping things up over in New York. It probably would have taken longer than three years, but then, we were forced to move sooner because of me.
I would have continued mulling miserably had I not heard a soft groan escape my half-dead patient.
Reaching out a clammy hand, I felt his forehead. His skin was surprisingly warm, especially after reeling him in from an icy grave... His eyelashes tickled my skin, startling me out of my thoughts. But as soon as I pulled my hand away, he turned towards me like he was still seeking my palm before stilling again.
“Hey, can you hear me?” I asked.
No answer. I hoped he could hear me.
“I have to get you help, but it's getting dark. If I want to make it to a phone before sundown…” I fidgeted, feeling like an idiot, “Um, will you be okay?”
Casting an anxious glance at the sun, I looked back at him and realized I could barely see his face. With the disappearing light, I lifted his covers to see his injured torso. It didn’t look like it was bleeding anymore, so I tucked him back in. As long as he wasn’t freezing or bleeding, I figured he’d live long enough for me to phone for help.
But just as I was getting to my feet, I felt a strong hand close around my wrist. I instinctively pulled away, but his vice-like grip only tightened. I was about to pry his fingers off, when I heard him murmur.
He opened his eyes slightly, but it was getting too dark to discern their color. All I could tell was that he wasn’t quite focusing yet. His voice was so weak, I had to lean in closer to hear him.
“D-don’t…”
I knit my brows. “I have to go. You won’t survive a night out here without help.”
“No…” he winced as he tried to move and stilled again, “Don’t. Don’t tell.”
“You’ll die,” I grit my teeth, trying and failing to remove his bruising grip from now-bloodless hand, "Ow, let go! You're hurting me."
“No,” he sighed painfully, clearer this time, “Promise.”
Looking at the setting light over the horizon, I grit my teeth. If this guy wanted to make his grave here, I should let him. I’d done all I could for his sorry naked bum. Today had been really trying, and my nerves had been fried, boiled, and dry-frozen all in one evening.
“Whatever,” I said grudgingly, "I promise."