Chapter Two – Andie
Chapter Two
ANDIE
T he engine of the Pearl Island river boat roars to life as I race down the dock, pulling my suitcase with one arm, and cradling the box housing the karaoke machine in the other.
The girls cheer me on from the boat, whooping encouragingly whenever I slow to a power walk. My suitcase bangs into my legs and my lungs burn.
‘Run, Andie, run!’ The line replays in my mind, over and over.
Thud, thud, thud. Thud, thud, thud.
The rhythmic slap of my sandals against the wooden pier is in sync with the beating of my heart.
It feels like the jetty stretches for eternity.
When I finally reach the boat, the captain grabs the karaoke machine from my hands and then my suitcase, swinging it on board like the twenty-kilo-may-as-well-have-packed-a-donkey weight is inconsequential.
As he reaches for my hand, I stumble and nearly trip into the water. His arm stiffens to help steady my footing. ‘Gotchu,’ he says, tugging me back to him. His eyes, shaded by a worn sailor’s cap, are a brilliant sea green.
The captain approaches me again once I’m safely seated on one of the timber benches. ‘I don’t typically wait for anyone, but my mother would hate me leaving a damsel in distress on the dock.’
I say nothing, only managing a stupid smile. He can probably see I’m still panting.
The thing is, I had been on time, I’d just been waiting on the doctor’s call to triple-check Dad was going to be fine.
Last night, after I’d finished making his bed with hospital corners, I’d called an orderly to help me settle him. But in my haste to finish up everything before my holiday, I’d forgotten to pull up the cot rails.
I was busy fussing, ensuring Dad’s tea and biscuits were well stocked for the week and placing the seashell somewhere he’d be able to see it, when I heard the unmistakable thud of my dad’s frail body hitting the floor.
As the boat pulls away from the dock, I try to even out my breathing, the balmy breeze whipping around me like a comforting embrace.
I close my eyes, hug my phone to my chest and inhale deeply, the warm, salty air a balm for my aching, guilt-ridden heart.