It’s five in the morning, by the way. The sun will come up in an hour or so. I’m holding a flashlight in between my teeth, trying not to drool. Not that it’s something Tai hasn’t seen before.
I have to admit, as much as I’m dreaming about being back home, being off this ship, about to bang a guy that looks exactly like Tai, I think these middle-of-the-night shifts are something I would miss.
It’s like I feel closer to him every time the sun rolls around. I at least feel…grounded, even out at sea.
And the way he’s been staring at me lately…I can’t pretend I don’t feel the heat in his eyes, and the curiosity behind that. It’s a look that makes me feel alive, like I have something to look forward to, even though I don’t know what it is.
But for all that Tai looks at me, and all that I look at him, there’s nothing between us.
And so, I dream.
Daisy’s Log: Day 8
Get me off this fucking ship!
Nine
Daisy
It’s day nine on the boat, and I’m in charge of dinner.
It ain’t easy.
I mean, it should be since I’m just opening up a can of chunky chicken soup, but that’s hard to do when the boat is swinging from side to side, violently crashing down on the waves. It’s been this back and forth action all day, but this up and down is something new. Feels like we’re landing on the back of a turtle.
Smash!
Somehow I manage to get the soup in the saucepot without spilling, though that last impact nearly threw me off balance. I had a complete disaster with the eggs the other day.
Tai yells something inaudibly from up top, so I go up the stairs and peer into the cockpit.
It’s soaking wet, like a wave just crashed over.
Tai is at the wheel, wearing a red Helly Hansen rain slicker. Richard is at the side of the boat, dressed in a yellow one that’s too big for him, trying to pull in a sail.
Both of them have life jackets on, which is now required if you’re going up top. Tai said earlier if this front gets nastier, anyone up top will have to be tethered to the boat with a cable, just in case.
I don’t want to admit it, but I’m scared.
Lacey is scared too, that’s why she went to her cabin to lie down, and took a bunch of her anxiety medication, pills that I very much want right now.
“What is it?” I yell at Tai. “Is everything okay?”
It’s hard to keep the panic out of my voice.
“It’s fine,” Tai says gruffly, spinning the wheel like he’s trying to gain control of the boat. “I need you to close any open hatches. Waves are getting bigger.”
“Okay!” I tell him, happy to be doing something to help.
I go back downstairs and head to the open hatch over the couch. I get on the couch, reaching up for it but it’s stiff, like the sea salt has rusted it in place.
I try with all my might to pull it down but no luck. It’s like my muscles have atrophied from being away from the gym for so long.
I growl at the stubborn hatch, hating that I couldn’t do it myself, further proving that I’m more or less useless, then head back up to Tai.
“It’s stuck,” I tell him reluctantly as a wave sprays over the side, nearly getting me.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, just like I knew he would. We’ve been getting pretty close to each other on our night shifts, but when it comes to anything to do with the boat or the ocean, he gets pretty worked up. It’s like the old man and the sea every day. Ahab and Moby Dick, except there is no whale, it’s just the ocean.
“Want me to take the wheel?” Richard asks, ropes in his hands.
“No, I’ll put her on autopilot for a second.” Tai angrily pushes a button at the helm and then storms over to me.
I quickly go down the stairs and get out of the way before he jumps down.
“I could take the wheel,” I offer. I know he doesn’t like to use the autopilot on the boat because he says it can be finicky.
He gives me a loaded look—yeah right—and moves swiftly to the couch, just as grinding noise fills the cabin.
The boat suddenly lurches to the left, like we’ve swung halfway around.
Boom!
We slam sideways into a trough and water goes flying over the side of the boat.
Over the open hatch.
Down into the couch.
Drenching everything.
I can see Tai’s face turn an angry shade of red right before Richard lets out a girlish yelp from up top, which would have been funny had this not been such a dangerous situation.
In a fury, Tai pushes past me and hoists himself upstairs.
Meanwhile, seawater continues to pour down the hatch.
And now Lacey is up, stumbling out of her cabin, her hair a mess from sleeping.
“What’s happening? Where is Richard?”
I don’t have time to tell her because I’m not sure what’s happening.
I fly up the stairs to the cockpit, holding onto the handles so I don’t fall, and see Richard at the wheel, trying to steer the boat, spinning it between his hands.
Tai gets him to move over and takes control.
“I almost fell overboard,” Richard says, his face white as a ghost, spray covering his glasses. “Thank god I held onto the boom.”
He looks at Tai, whose face is furrowed in concentration as he brings the boat center again. Looks like we almost swung all the way to the direction we came from, though to be honest, with all these waves and this grey, dark sky, it’s hard to tell.
“It’s the autopilot,” Tai says, smacking the wheel. “The fucker gave out.” He looks at Richard. “You did the right thing by grabbing the wheel. Make sure you never touch the autopilot going forward, got it?” He looks at me and Lacey. “That goes for you both as well.”
“Are we going to be okay?” Lacey asks as we hit another wave. She grips the handles by the stairs and I lean against the boat, distributing my weight for balance.
“We should be fine,” Tai says. “This is the tail end of the front. Wind isn’t too bad, there’s no rain. The waves should ease a bit but even so, if anyone is up here, I think we should start clipping on to the boat. Just in case. There’s another system moving in tomorrow and I have no idea how that’s going to go. It’s going to push us to the east, which is a shame. Might need an extra day to tack upwind and get to Suva.”
We all nod silently. It’s not the best news, but at least this is going to die down soon.
Only problem is that fucking hatch.
The entire couch is soaked.
AKA my bed.
I don’t want to bug Tai about it, not now, so I motion for Lacey to head back down the stairs and then the two of us go about trying to close it. It’s tough, and standing on the couch is like standing on a waterbed that sprung a leak, but together we manage to close the hatch.
“Some honeymoon, huh?’ Lacey says, going over to the loveseat and sitting beside my luggage, leaning against it tiredly. There’s a silly face on it now that someone drew with a marker. I wiped half of it off and then left it, figuring it’s probably Tai’s handiwork. Serves me right for packing so damn much, especially since I’ve pretty much been wearing the same clothes day in and day out.