17. I Don’t Really Buy into That Stuff
I Don’t Really Buy into That Stuff
MATTHEW
Something tightens on my chest, pulling at the fabric. I snap my eyes open.
Then, I realize what it is.
It’s Lillian’s hand. She’s clinging to me.
Despite the gales outside, the rolling waters, and the anxiety of being trapped in a storm, I haven’t slept so well in a long time. Her body pressed against mine and the touch of her hand brought me a peace I didn’t know I needed.
Not to mention her breath tickling the back of my neck, so close she could kiss me.
The boat lurches to the side, and reflexively, I clutch her hand against my chest to steady her.
Lillian gasps awake. “What the . . .”
Her arm tightens around me as if she’s afraid I might roll away.
Like it was nothing, the boat rights itself again, steadied and aligned, so there’s no reason for me to be grabbing her anymore. I release her hand, tingling with disappointment. “Um. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
To my surprise and delight, Lillian laughs. Her hand unfurls the front of my shirt. “It’s fine.”
We lay there in silence a bit longer. “I should probably go check on?—”
“Can I ask you something?” she interrupts.
“Yeah, of course.” I wish I could turn over and face her, see how her mahogany hair is mussed from sleep, how her eyes pinch at the corners.
Lillian hesitates. “Do you—do you think I am bad luck?”
I frown. “What?”
“I just . . . I was told it’s bad luck to have women on boats.”
“Oh. That.” I breathe out through my nose. I sit up on the edge of the bunk and glance back at her. “I don’t really buy into that stuff.”
Lillian smiles. “Oh. Good.”
I ruffle a hand through my hair. “Did—uh—Did someone give you a hard time about that?”
“No, I just . . .” She raises herself up on her elbow, her head almost brushing the bunk above her. “I met that female sea captain. Marina?”
My brows lift in recognition. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, she was out fishing on the riverbank and—” Lillian shakes her head. “She mentioned the superstition.”
“Storms happen, women on board or not. If I chalked everything up to mere superstitions, I’d be a shit captain.” I push myself up to stand and lean on the opposite bunk to face her. “But I have to admit, it crosses your mind now and then. Been hearing shit like that since I was a kid.”
“I’m sure.”
“These superstitions run deep, but I have a hard time believing most people still think that way.”
Lillian doesn’t argue. “I am glad to hear it.”
I had a preconceived notion about her being a city girl. That she’d be judgmental and lack the capacity to understand or broaden her horizons about Naknek. However, she’s a great listener. She’s open to learning more. I like that a lot.
She sighs, shimmying to the edge of the bunk and sitting up. “I wouldn’t blame you for being superstitious after that storm.”
“That’s true. I should have thrown you overboard,” I reply, teasing.
Lillian laughs, smiling up at me. I’d like to swallow her laughter with my mouth against hers.
“Anyway, I should go check on the boat and the weather, and then if all’s well, we can head back to Naknek and?—”
Lillian presses her hands into the mattress. “Can I help? I’d like to.”
Just as she stands up, the boat rocks again.
Her legs are still weak with sleep, so she pitches toward me, landing against my chest. I don’t have my bearings to keep both of us upright, instead catching her against my chest. Our bodies are as close as they were in the bed, except now we’re chest to chest. I’m towering over her. She’s breathless with her mouth parted.
Fuck me.
Lillian rests her hand on my arm tentatively, trying to find her balance. I help her stand back up, away from me before I can do anything stupid, something that can’t be undone. “You can help by staying inside and listening to the radio for any weather updates, okay?”
She bites her lower lip, coquettish and teasing. “Okay.”
I turn away as quickly as I can, launch myself into the galley, and up the stairs. Away. I need to be away. “Be back in a minute.”
I’m up and out of the wheelhouse before I can hear her response. I inhale deeply, the fresh air a welcome change from the stuffy cabin. I'm not going to acknowledge the sweat and deliciousness pouring off Lillian.
The sun is peeking through the clouds, and the darkness has turned into a thin layer of gray. It only gets dark in the summer around here when there’s a storm, like we’re microdosing nighttime.
Other than a few things blown about on the deck, everything looks above board. No pun intended.
Now that it’s not raining, I get a good look at our surroundings. We’re in the narrows, swaths of grass covering the landscape on either bank. The sky is wide open here with ranges of mountains in the distance, doing their best to make themselves known through the hazy sky.
The expanse of Alaska never fails to humble me. It reminds me how I’m only a small part of all this beauty, and that long after I’m dead, the mountains will remain. Majestic and constant.
I hear the door slide open and turn to find Lillian standing in the doorway to the wheelhouse, the gray blanket wrapped around her. Her auburn hair is tied back into a ponytail, messy and sprigging in different directions.
“No activity on the radio,” she says.
I tuck my tongue into the corner of my mouth, chuckling. “We’re all good out here. Just need to check a few things, and then we can start back to Naknek.”
She tentatively steps out onto the deck. The cool ocean breeze rustles her hair as her shoulders drop and head lifts.
That’s what this place does to people. Releases us from the constraints of the complications of being a human. It’s a beautiful thing to feel, but even more beautiful to watch come over a person.
I glance at Lillian as she raises an arm over her head and sniffs her armpit. I chuckle despite myself, and she immediately turns red when she realizes I saw her checking her scent. “Oh, my god. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I just haven’t showered since yesterday morning, and I hope I don’t stink,” she says sheepishly.
You definitely don’t.
I clear my throat. “Um, well, we don’t have a shower on board.”
“Ah, so that’s why women don’t want to be on board. Evidently, all the men go nose-blind,” Lillian says with a smirk.
“It’s just a part of the job. Having a clean boat is important, of course, but you kind of forget about smell after a while. We usually wash up with seawater or—” My heart pounds in my chest, quick and excited as an idea dawns. I smile. “You want the full Alaskan experience, right?”
She tilts her head to the side, her eyes dripping down my body and taking in the sum of all my parts. My insides stir. “That depends . . . what do you have in mind, Matt?”
My smile grows into a grin.