Page 46 of Nights Without Night
Being lighter, I move to the bench at the falling side, while Isadoro moves to the rising side, ducking under the boom. He holds the ropes loosely in his hand, having latched them to the teethed clip in the middle of the cockpit deck while I do most of the work keeping the boat en rumbo.
It’s always been this way. Me, straining my softer muscles on the tiller while he remains watchful to any change that might necessitate action.
There is no need to talk. The rush of the wind and the water does it for us, hitting the front of the boat and adding to the impression of speed, of freedom. The dome of the sky is endless. Everything is endless around us.
I look at Isadoro, and the smile on his face steals my breath. It’s an expression from childhood, of climbing trees and winning races.
I get the urge to cry without crying, overwhelmed by the emotion. He catches my eyes and I feel the warmth of his smile. I smile back.
**********
We sail all day. At lunchtime, we eat the tuna sandwiches we prepared before we left. We throw bits of bread at the passing waves and a group of seagulls start following us, not letting up for miles. I sunburn. Isadoro tans. The saltwater air disinfects our worries.
We reach the next port just as the sun is suggesting its goodbye. We’ve booked places in each of the ones we’ll be staying at, and I steer us carefully until we find the empty spot.
We clean up and wash the boat before heading to the harbour showers. The water tastes almost sweet against my lips after a day of salt. I run it cold and it’s the simplest of pleasures against my heated skin.
We take a walk around the port town, but the sun of the day has bleached us into a deep, luring exhaustion. We eat dinner and head back to our swaying home.
We lay under just a thin layer of sheets, close again. Isadoro runs his finger ever-so-slightly across my burnt nose. My eyelashes flutter for a moment.
“Most of my team—my ex-team—are on leave. Some of them live near one of our stops. I’ve told them I’m stopping by…” Isadoro says.
It takes me a moment to process the words. My eyes widen when they hit me, and I struggle not to react. I hadn’t even known he kept in touch with them. This feels like such a huge step, somehow. A thread acknowledged between past and present.
“We could have dinner together?” I say evenly. Isadoro nods.
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
“I can stay on the boat if you want, or-”
“That’s not necessary. It’d be cool for you to meet them finally,” he says. I’ve seen or briefly talked to each member of the team at one point or another through the phone or skype, so the idea makes me smile.
“Yeah, I’d love that actually.”
“They want to meet you too.”
“Who lives the closest?” I ask.
“Muhafiz. He lives right by the coast. Being the Commo Guy— The Communications Sergeant—he carries all the tech, so he has the heaviest bag, you know? So, you’ve seen him, he’s huge—Muhafiz isn’t his actual name, that’s what one of the tanks are called—and I swear to God. I saw him swim once and we all thought he’d sink like a rock, and then the motherfucker starts cutting through the water like a fish. My jaw hit the floor, he was like a speedboat. We’d all forgotten he came from a seaside town,” he laughs. I grin.
“Who else is gonna be there?”
“David, Ricky, and Doc. They’re travelling down.”
“I bet they can’t wait to see you,” I say. He shrugs, but there’s a smile on his face.
The clang of the boats and the slight sway of the water is soporific, and I watch as Isadoro drifts off. It’s the first time since his return that I see him fall asleep. I follow, with ease.
**********
Isadoro twitches in his sleep. Even in the dark, I’ll be able to see the furrow in his brow, his tense body moving with a restless spirit.
Sometimes, he wakes up like he’s escaping something, and for a moment it will follow him into wakefulness, its claws and teeth reflected in his eyes. He’ll take a breath like it’s his first after drowning and I let him come down from it before touching him softly, asking for him back.
The things that keep him awake at night are on this boat with us now. They curl up during the day, but hunt in the dark, when his mind softens and turns porous.
Now, though, they have more space to roam. They have the open sky and the ink of the ocean and the wood of the docks. They’re not trapped in a room with him, a tangled mass writhing in the shadows.
