Below Deck, page 11
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think I do … If mean, if you didn’t want it, why didn’t you just scream?’
fish blood
There are stretch marks on the sea.
Why didn’t I just scream?
I roll over in my bunk.
Again and again.
I roll over in my bunk.
Why didn’t I just scream? It’s a ringing in my ears.
Again and again. Like pulling my pants up. Again and again.
It’s fucking relentless.
Why didn’t I just scream?
As if someone would have heard me scream when he was just inches away and couldn’t hear no.
As if that’s all it would have taken.
A scream.
As if that would have saved me.
I roll over in my bunk.
And feel a wetness. A wetness between my thighs.
‘Oh, shit,’ I whisper, sitting up, parting my legs. My undies are soaked. It’s all over the bunk.
I blink and tears slip down my cheeks.
I climb out of my bunk and hurry through the cabin into the bathroom. Grabbing handfuls of toilet paper, I pull off my pants and wipe myself clean, throwing the bloodied paper in the toilet.
A moment later, it hits me what I’ve done. ‘Oh my God,’ I mutter, ‘you idiot.’ I try to fish out the paper from the bowl. But it’s already started to break apart. I get out the biggest clumps and put them in the plastic bag we’re using for a bin. I hope I’ll get lucky and be able to flush the rest away.
I shift the lever to the right and fill the bowl with fresh sea water. Then I shift the lever again and begin to pump. At first, it’s fine. And then it’s not. ‘Fuck.’ I can feel the wetness between my thighs, can feel it trickling down my leg. The boat lurches and the bathroom door swings open. I almost fall out of the bathroom, grabbing the sink to save myself. The door swings shut with a sudden bang. It surges through me.
I grab more paper and wipe my leg. I stuff a handful between my legs and squeeze them together to hold it there. I try pumping the flush again, but it’s no use. I’ve clogged the toilet.
I shut the lid and go to my rucksack stored behind the nav station. Riffling through its contents, I find four loose tampons. My period is early. Too early. I’m not prepared. It never comes early. Tears are streaming now as I shuffle back to the bathroom, put the paper in the bin, and insert a tampon.
I feel it go in. Slowly. Feel all of it. The dryness of it. Coarse and ribbed. My body seizing up. Clam shell closing. So that I have to shove hard to get it into myself.
I throw my bloodied undies in the bin in the galley and start making breakfast. I boil the last of the eggs. Then it’s on to the non-perishables. Packets of cereal with mini cartons of long-life milk. Now that we don’t have any bowls to eat from, I pour the milk into the plastic packets within the cereal boxes and pass them around with spoons.
‘Aren’t you gonna eat, Oli?’ asks Zach.
Beneath the brooding sky, I lie and tell him I’ve already eaten.
My insides growl. I press my palm against my stomach, pushing down hard. Silencing my body. Because feeling empty feels better than being occupied.
After they’ve finished, Hunter, who took the last watch, goes below deck to sleep.
‘What the fuck!’ he shouts from the cabin.
The other boys rush through the cockpit and huddle around the hatch. ‘What is it?’ asks Vlad.
‘There’s black stuff all through my bunk!’
Vlad disappears down the hatch, the others following.
‘That’s blood!’ says Vlad.
I hear Zach ask, ‘Who slept in this bunk?’
‘Oli did,’ says AJ.
I hold my breath.
‘Oh my God,’ says Zach finally. ‘I think it’s period blood.’
Hunter screams, ‘Yuck!’
I tuck my knees up and hold myself in a ball. As small as I can. Squeeze tight. Hold still.
Then there’s more commotion up the front of the cabin. Muffled voices below deck. Someone’s found the toilet, clogged. A bowl of blood and seawater.
Vlad comes up on deck, his face hot red. He’s fuming. ‘What the hell have you done to the toilet?’ he says. ‘Everyone’s got to use that.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,’ I say, welling up again. ‘I tried to clear it.’
‘Well, it didn’t work,’ he says, then mutters to himself, ‘I knew you were a bad idea.’
The other boys all come up the hatch into the cockpit. They stand over me, sea vultures circling.
‘Yeah,’ Cam says, ‘it’s completely fucked.’
Tears slide free, one after the other, like rain.
‘Where are we going to shit?’ Hunter asks.
‘Yeah, I need to go now,’ says Zach.
‘Over the side, I guess,’ Vlad says, huffing.
‘I’m sorry!’
Cam glares at me. ‘Yeah. You should be.’
I get up. ‘I’ll try and fix it.’
‘Gross!’ shrieks Hunter.
I turn around to see a smudge of red on the seat where I’ve been sitting.
‘It stinks,’ says Cam.
‘Fuck off,’ I say. ‘No it doesn’t.’
‘Smells like fish blood!’ Hunter says.
AJ looks at me. ‘What are we going to do with you?’
‘Stick her in the dinghy,’ Hunter says, and both he and AJ burst into laughter.
‘That’s the first good idea you’ve had all trip,’ says Cam, laughing too now.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I say.
‘Yeah, come on,’ says Zach. ‘Stop kidding around.’
Cam’s smile disappears. ‘I’m not.’
Hunter’s laughter fades. ‘Cam, wait,’ he says. ‘I was only joking.’
‘I’m dead serious.’
I look him in the eye. ‘You are a cunt.’
‘What did you say to me?’ he demands, his face twisting, contorting. Twitching with rage. He grabs my shoulder, scoops me up under the thighs, lifting me into the air.
I scream. ‘Put me down!’
Cam pinches my thighs. Yells something at Hunter, ordering him to draw in the dinghy.
‘Stop it!’ shouts Zach. ‘Put her down!’
Cam ignores him.
I whip my head around to see Hunter standing at the stern. Frozen like a stunned fish.
‘Do it, Hunter!’ bellows Cam.
I see the words jolt Hunter, like a shock of electricity.
‘Now!’
Reluctantly, Hunter starts pulling the dinghy in towards the back of the boat.
‘Put me down!’ I shout, punching Cam in the back with my fists. I’m writhing and wriggling. Scratching and clawing. He tightens his grip, edges towards the back of the boat.
‘Cut it out!’ Zach yells at him. ‘You can’t do this!’
I look over Cam’s shoulder to see AJ shove Zach. Hard. He falls back onto the deck.
I catch Zach’s gaze. Pleading with him. Help.
But he retreats into the cockpit.
‘Cam, please,’ I say, starting to sob. ‘Please!’
He digs his fingers into my flesh. ‘Shut up,’ he says. ‘You stupid slut.’
Hunter has the dinghy at the back of the boat now.
Cam looks back at Vlad, who’s still standing in the cockpit, watching on impassively. ‘Vlad!’ I scream. ‘VLAD!’
He looks from me to Cam, saying nothing. Sick yellow silence floods the cockpit.
‘Fucking arsehole!’ I shout and his eyes widen, the blow of my insult reverberating through him. He flinches. Then he turns away.
And that’s all the encouragement Cam needs.
He drops me a metre down into the dinghy.
I land on my side in a flash of purple. My vision blurs as they let out the rope and I drift further away, until I’m several metres behind the boat, being dragged along like a fish hooked on the end of a line.
The clouds open up in the late afternoon.
Up ahead, Hunter is hanging over the back of the boat, doing a shit. It hits the water, bobs past the dinghy. There’s laughter in the cockpit.
My throat is parched now. Sunlight beating down, drawing the moisture out of me. Like bleached coral. I grab hold of the rope and start pulling myself in towards the boat. Hunter sees and points to me, muttering something to the others.
Cam, near the back of the cockpit, grabs the fish knife and kneels down, threatening to cut the rope, a grin twisting across his face.
I let go. The slackened rope sinks, then pulls tight.
I turn away from them. Searching the monochrome for detail. The ocean like a painting. A site for yearning.
I think of her body. Memories and desires. Robynne. Dissolving like ice into the grey. And I see, now. How easily I could just slip away. We choose. Don’t we?
The wind has picked up now, blowing from behind us. The boys have the boom out wide and a pole propping out the headsail. Vlad is at the helm, steering starboard, then edging port to lessen the rolls of the boat as it sails downwind.
I sit back in the dinghy. Despite the heat, I’m shivering. There’s blood leaking from me, dark red on the white seat. I wrap my arms around myself. Holding myself together. Like if I let go, my body might break apart like skin underwater.
Ahead, I see Vlad leave the cockpit to go down the hatch. Hunter takes over at the helm. He’s not nearly as experienced as Vlad, and the boat begins to roll heavily. Soon the end of the boom starts dipping into the water.
I watch it rolling back and forth, back and forth, dipping deeper into the sea with each roll.
Too deep. The sails slacken. A gust moves past me. It stretches across the ocean between the dinghy and the yacht, like rippled darkness. Reaches the stern. Rises up. Fills the sails. Full. And then something snaps.
The boom breaks in a burst of blue, the bang ricocheting out across the water, into nothing. Into no one.
There’s shouting on board. Screaming.
Vlad comes bounding up into the cockpit, followed by AJ. They’re all in the cockpit now, scampering like rats.
‘Holy shit,’ I mutter, eyeing the broken boom.
I start pulling myself in, against the wake, against the tide. Rope burn sets my palms on fire, but I keep pulling, one hand after the other, my torso cramping, until I’m at the stern of the boat, reaching up to grab the lifeline.
I grip the yacht with one hand, use the other to steady myself, then grab hold of the ladder and haul myself up into the cockpit.
Zach and AJ are dropping the sails. Cam is at the helm, trying desperately to steady the boat. Vlad screams at Hunter. It’s a wash of yellow. Sick and panicked.
I climb up onto the port deck to inspect the damage.
‘Get down from there!’ Vlad yells at me.
‘The preventer was tied to the vang!’ I shout.
AJ jumps down into the cockpit. ‘Yeah—where it’s supposed to be!’
‘No!’ I shout. ‘You have to tie it to the end of the boom. Otherwise this happens. It breaks!’
‘How would you know?’ snaps Hunter.
The question courses through me. And then all the others. In waves. Are you sure, Oli? Have you worked on a boat before, Oli? Don’t you know to close the cupboard, Oli? Did he rape you or not, Oli? Why didn’t you just scream?
‘Because I’m not a fucking idiot!’ I shout. And then I’m shouting all kinds of things. Until it all blurs together.
‘Shut up!’ Vlad bellows. ‘Shut. The. Fuck. Up!’
‘Fuck you, Vlad!’ I scream. ‘This is your fault.’
‘I can’t take this,’ he says, throwing his hands up in the air. Shoving Hunter out of the way, he reaches up and grabs me by the wrist, yanks me down into the cockpit. He pulls me towards the hatch, fingers digging into my flesh. He jerks me forwards, down the ladder, below deck, pulling me through the belly of the boat to the front cabin. There, he picks me up and throws me. I land between sail bags and a fishing rod. Winded. Gasping for breath.
I scramble to my feet as the door closes with a slam. I try to open it, but he’s pushing against it from the other side. His weight, against mine.
I shout, ‘Let me out! You can’t do this! Vlad! Please! Let me out! Open the door! Please. Please.’ I whimper. ‘Please.’ But it’s his word against mine.
fish bladder
Night falls in the cabin. Falls. Like falling water.
All around me are sail bags, like bags of skin. I curl into a ball and think of something someone said to me once. In another time. On another sea. In the blink of an eye. Something about how you don’t really notice the darkness, not until you’re right in the thick of it. Not until the streetlights come on and you look around and think, Shit, it just got dark quick.
Just like that. Darkness is total. So black I can’t tell if my eyes are open or shut. The moon blacked out. The stars a million miles away. So dark. That if it weren’t for the steady rumble of the motor, I’d believe I were dead.
In this pocket of darkness, I can’t see that the cabin is barely wider than my arms or that there’s fishing gear piled against the wall. I can’t see the folds in the sails. Or AJ’s cum stain on the mattress. In this pocket of darkness. I’m as safe as dead.
Caught in the in-between, I imagine the earth is rocking. It’s all back and forth, back and forth.
But now I’m coming to, and there’s drool caked to my chin and fur on my teeth, and I’m peeling apart puffy eyelids to see the sun through a skylight that’s only a few feet above my head. The sun is swinging back and forth in the sky and I realise the earth really is rocking. I prop myself up on one elbow. My head is pounding like someone’s clobbered me with a brick. I look around and, as the room comes into focus, I wait for this all to make sense. But it doesn’t. The walls are curved, and no wider than the bed—if you’d even call this a bed. I’m lying on a wafer-thin mattress, wedged between a huge canvas bag and a fishing rod. There’s a weird thumping outside and, when I look up, the sun is still swinging. I feel a tightening in my chest, a fierce contraction of my ribcage, like my breath is caught and can’t get out. Where the fuck am I?
I could be anywhere. Any time. Any sea.
But then I feel the wetness. And when I look down at the red mess between my legs, it all falls into place, all the pieces lining up in rows like fish scales.
There are no roses here. I’m on Poseidon.
There’s a pain in my abdomen. I need to pee. I climb out of the bed. I can hear voices below deck. Cam and AJ. I pound the door with my fists. The voices quieten.
I stop hitting the door. Pause a moment. Listen.
‘Just ignore her.’
‘She’s fucking crazy.’
I scream.
And then I collapse back into myself. Fish bladder emptying, soaking the mattress.
Maggie, I wish you’d told me. At sea, no one can hear you scream.
medusa
Milky black eyes. Medusa. I bite. Sinking fangs. Into his arm. Flesh swelling purple veins. Bursting. With hot green venom. Like snake eyes turning men to stone. Statues. Lined up below deck.
The boat lurches. I wake in a burst.
There are footsteps behind the door. The door is wrenched open. A gust of fresh air comes over me in a wave. I breathe in deep.
Vlad looks me up and down, disgust on his face.
‘We’ll be in Auckland Harbour in the next hour,’ he mutters, then leaves me. Medusa. Covered in blood and piss.
Everyone is upstairs in the cockpit when I crawl out of the bow cabin into the main body of the boat. I find a tampon in my bag and fresh clothes, and change behind the nav station, afraid that if I go back into the bow, the door might swing shut behind me, locking me in. Forever.
When I come on deck, back into the light of day, I’m silent.
So silent, even my breath passes without sound.
Above me, the broken boom is tied down. Vlad is at the helm, motoring us in.
When we dock in Auckland, Hunter says to Cam, ‘You excited to see Amy?’
Cam shrugs. ‘A newborn kinda kills the romance.’
‘Who’s Amy?’ asks Zach.
‘His fiancée,’ Hunter answers.
Cam looks to me. I shudder.
‘Do you have a phone?’ I ask the barmaid in the yacht club.
‘Sorry, love. What did you say?’
‘Do you have a phone?’
She shakes her head.
I feel tears welling, my eyes glazing over.
‘You can use my mobile, if you like?’
I nod. I dial, bring the phone to my ear. It rings out.
I try again.
Maggie picks up on the fourth ring.
‘Hello?’
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
‘Hello?’ she repeats.
I begin to sob.
‘Oli?’ she says, suddenly worried. ‘Oli, is that you?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Get me out of here.’
pale blue sand
I hate this. This looking without seeing. I scan the bar, and then the couches. Walk through one room into another. Out into the beer garden. Half smiling at faces I don’t know. Hoping one will smile back. Hoping one, the right one, will light up and open and unfold.
Why did I let Natasha talk me into this?
The beer garden of the Faltering Fullback is tiered, layer upon layer of plants and wood. Pint glasses and twists of smoke.
Why had she suggested this pub for a blind date?
I spy a guy sitting alone with a full pint of beer. I hint at a smile. He grins.
Edging closer, I say, ‘Hugo?’
‘I could be.’
‘What?’
‘Sit down and I’ll be anyone you want me to be.’
I roll my eyes, turn and push through the door back into the pub. The room is heaving. A guy steps backwards onto my foot.
‘Sorry,’ he mutters.
‘No worries,’ I say, pushing past him. This was a bad idea, I think, rounding the bar, making for the front door.
