Chapter Five

In a world so artificial, who would think that something so raw, so beautiful as stars would be allowed to exist? I let the waves rock me as I grabbed at handfuls of my curly hair. Something concrete. It bothered me a bit how much reassurance I needed to know that this was reality. I let out a choked laugh. A harsh, bitter sound that resonated from somewhere deeper than my body.

I laid on my back in my family's small wooden boat, on a worn gray tarp. Sometimes the silence between my parents was louder than their screaming could be. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching the silhouettes move harshly, and then collide. A wave of nausea hitting me, I rolled over and put my face in my hands, pushing at my eyes with the heels of my hands.

The boat didn't shift even a little bit, but I knew she was there.

"Hey, Tyler." I could hear the smile in her voice, even in the darkness.

"Basil." I let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. She was the only steadiness in my fragile life. She laid down on her back next to me, and I cleared my mind and traced patterns in the stars.

"The parents?" she asked, and the way she said it, I could tell she knew the answer.

"The parents." I said, my voice cutting through the thick, salty air.

"Mom's pregnant. Again." she said, and I knew what she meant by that.

"Oh...", I said, knowing the worn-out cycle. Mrs. Mullingar got pregnant, had a miscarriage, crumbled, gained hope through another pregnancy, and fell even harder than before.

We sighed, as if it was possible to exhale away the cracks and inhale a way to fix the hurt.

"How would you feel if time stopped, and all we accomplished up to this point was what we were remembered by?" I asked, and her silence answered the question for both of us.

I knew her well enough to feel the way she sucked in her stomach, holding her breath for an impossibly long time.

In that small boat, next to her, I felt her shaking breaths as she exhaled. She had so much sadness saturated in such a small body.

"I'm sorry." she turned to face me, and I could see her eyes flash in the starlight.

"For what?"

"For dumping all my sadness on you. You shouldn't have to deal with this. To deal with me." She sucked in a slow breath again.

I found her hand in the darkness. "Don't...don't think that I'd ever want you to put on a mask around me. This is the only place where I don't have to be tough." My voice broke, and I turned my face to the stars again.

She rubbed her thumb in soothing circles on the back of my hand. And it was true. Here in this patched up wooden boat, wrapped in the thick sea air, and suffocated by what we wanted to forget, this is where all of our layers fall away. This is where we exist in pure emotion.