Black Hull (15 page)

He sat down beside her, and she knew his
words before they exited his mouth: “I’m sorry hon, Teddy won’t be feeling good
enough to go out today. I’m going to stick around to keep an eye on him. You
understand, right?”

She wanted to yell at him, to tell him
that it wasn’t fair, that there would never be another chance, that Teddy was
responsible for ruining their vacation, their chance of being a family again.
She wrestled with darkness she couldn’t understand. Her father placed his
strong arm on her tiny shoulder and caressed her hair the way her mother had
used to do. She wanted to tell him to stop, that only mom could do that. She
wanted to scream at him, and tell him it was his fault that she died, that he
was supposed to protect her no matter what. Instead of words, she made tears.
Her father pushed her head into his massive chest, in this moment somehow as
soft as her mother’s had been. Mom’s voice spoke:
It wasn’t his fault. You
have to let go. It was nobody’s fault.

Sera lay in bed, unable to fall asleep.
The last day of the trip had been one giant, wasted opportunity. Teddy had
started to heal already, but dad had kept them inside. He had said he didn’t
want to run the risk of an infection on a fringe world, so far from
civilization and good hospitals. Though she couldn’t accept that they’d never
get to go on a boat, she decided that she half-understood why: she didn’t want
her brother to get sick. A soft knock came at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” she said. Dad had tucked her
in two hours ago—
what does he want now
?

Teddy walked into her room.

“Teddy.”

“Shhh,” he hissed.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“I feel really bad about what happened,
how the vacation ended. I know how much you wanted to go on the boat,” Teddy
said in his best thirteen-year-old adult voice. “So I’m going to make it up to
you.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. That
stupid table shouldn’t have been there.”

“We go home tomorrow morning. Tonight is
the last chance we have to take the boat.”

Sera thought of her home world, New
Earth Two—all of its water ran in pipelines, and there were certainly no lakes.
It really would be their last chance to drive a boat on a lake.

“Dad would never let us,” she finally
replied, thinking it through.

“I know that, stupid. Don’t talk so
loud. We’re going out tonight.”

Sera looked to her window—a cold black
square—out of place in the warm, golden room. “It’s too dark.”

“No it’s not, I just checked outside.
You can’t see it, but there’re two full moons tonight.”

“Dad will be mad at us.”

“It’ll be worth it. He saved for a year
to take us here. When we get back home, he’s going to be working sixty hour
weeks to make up for this trip—he’ll want to know we enjoyed it as much as we
could. This is our last chance. And I’m not stopping you from what you really
wanted to do on vacation because of my dumb wrist.” He held up his half-red,
gauze-wrapped arm.

Sera looked back to him from the window:
“Are you sure we’ll have enough light?”

“C’mon, get dressed. Quietly. Meet me in
the hall.”

Teddy hadn’t lied: they snuck down to
the dock under bright silver moonlight. He nervously glanced back at the house
when they reached the water’s edge.

“What is it?” Sera asked.

“Nothing, I just want to make sure we
didn’t wake him up.”

Sera kicked off her sandals and touched
one foot into the water—it was only slightly colder than the morning; silver
ripples ran away, the lines of the moons’ shattering reflections.

“You were right Teddy, it is really
light out. There’re so many stars. I can’t wait until I can pilot my first
spaceship,” she said.

“Shut up and get in. You’re not going to
get hung up on flying ships when we’re about to finally go boat riding, are
you?” he said, steadying the rocking boat.

“No—I’d rather do this.”

She stepped in and took a seat. Teddy
untied the boat, grabbed an oar, and dug it into the muck below them. He pushed
hard and they were moving, drifting toward the distant shore.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Sera said,
mesmerized by the wake of the boat, pushing wide lines in time with Teddy’s
steadfast rowing.

“It is. Check the cabin, do you see
anything?” Teddy asked, breathing hard.

“No. The coast is clear. We made it.”

“We did. Now isn’t this nice,” he said,
and began to set the oars back into their hinges.

“Thanks Teddy. I love you—you’re the
best big brother in the world,” she said, looking up to the silver globes
above. It felt weird—saying I love you. When mom had been around, they’d said
it all the time—it was normal then. Ever since her death, it had become taboo
for some reason. But she knew, as strange as it had felt to say it, it felt
right, for it was true.

“Shit,” Teddy said.

“What?” she looked back at her brother.
He’d lost one of the oars into the black waters.

“I can’t reach it.” He stretched as far
as he could, reeling back before the boat rail came too close to the water.

“What are we going to do?” Sera asked,
beginning to worry. Teddy ignored her and worked vigorously with his one oar,
switching sides every other stroke. Sera waited but he didn’t reply. He worked
harder to bring them close to the oar, but with each stroke in which he gained
a meter, he seemed to lose it right back to some mysterious current in the
water.

“Teddy?” Sera said, quivering. She
looked back at the shrinking cabin, most of its lights out, her father sleeping
too far away to help them if something should happen.

“Shhh,” he silenced her, gasping for
breath, rowing frantically. “I’ve almost got it.”

It seemed the oar was finally within
reach, and Teddy would not miss his chance. He leaned as far as he could over
the edge of the boat without taking on water, grasping for the wooden pole.

He couldn’t reach it without tipping the
boat.

“Hold this, don’t lose it,” Teddy said.

“What are you doing?” she said, watching
her brother tear off his shirt.

“I’m going to grab it, stay here and
hold the oar. Do
not
let it go,” he said.

“Teddy don’t! Let’s go back. Dad won’t
be so mad if we lose one oar. He might not even notice.”

Teddy didn’t listen; instead, he leaped
headlong into the water.

“Teddy!” Sera shrieked. A splash, then
endless seconds of dark quiet passed as she waited for him to surface. His head
rose in a fountain.

“Wooh! That’s cold, but it feels so
good!”

“Come back Teddy.” He ignored her and
swam toward the oar.

“Got it!” he called. “Haha! It feels so
great in here. You should come in.”

“Come back. I’m scared.”

“I am coming back, calm down. Sera look,
I got the oar!” he said, proudly holding it high above the water. “Don’t be so
sour, you’re ruining the fun,” he smiled, silver light caught in his eyes.

He swam quickly to the edge of the boat,
about to hoist himself up, when Sera gasped. He looked up to her; she looked
back in the direction of the cabin. Teddy couldn’t see past the boat’s hull.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s dad, he’s at the edge of the
dock,” she said. Teddy swum around and saw it for himself: searching out into
the lake was their pajama-wearing father.

“He’s going to be so mad at us.”

“We have to get back,” Teddy said,
gripping the rail. As he began to pull himself up, he heard his father’s calls:

“Sera! Teddy! Ted!”

Teddy pulled, pulling the boat down
toward the water.

“Teddy no!” screamed Sera, but it was
too late. The boat tipped, flipping her into the cool water. She frantically
grabbed her brother, dragging him down with her into darkness. Their father
leaped from the dock, swimming as hard as he could toward the violent
splashing.

“Sera—stop—you’re—pulling me—down!”
cried Teddy, struggling to grip the mossy, upturned keel of the boat, unable to
hold on as Sera wrapped her body around him and tried to climb his body to the
surface, pushing him under.

“Daddy help!” she screamed, clawing up
her brother’s shoulders, struggling desperately for air.

The moons watched: A tiny dot moved,
drawing a line of foam in its wake—father—along the one hundred meter expanse
of lake that separated him from all the family he had in the world.

Hollers turned to voiceless splashing.

Two points slowly converged, fate
changing its mind as if by whim. They became a singular form, enlarged, slowly
losing energy, speed, and closeness to life.

Bright white lights, a cold metal wall,
and a nurse greeted Sera as she opened her eyes. She was lying flat, face up on
a hospital bed. The nurse moved the light aside and her face came into view: it
was warm, round, her mother’s—not her mother’s, but familiar.

Am I dreaming?

“Are you awake?” said the nurse.

“Where am I?” Sera said.

“Doctor Shaw, she’s awake. Doctor Shaw,”
the nurse said. “Relax honey, you’re in good hands. The doctor’s coming in.”

Doctor? What’s wrong? Why am I here?

“Hi, I’m Doctor Shaw.” A face, old,
wrinkled, filled her vision. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Sera.”

“Good. Sera, you’re okay and you’re safe
here. I’m going to have to ask you some questions—is that okay with you?”

“What happened? Where am I?” She tried
to remember: popcorn, a movie, Teddy’s fall, the gash—the lake.

We snuck out onto the lake.

“Where’s daddy? Where’s Teddy?” Sera
said.

Teddy’s voice split her head:
you’re—pulling
me—down.

“Are you hungry Sera? What would you
like to eat?” the doctor said, ignoring her.

“Where’s daddy? Where is he? Where’s
Teddy?” she said, hysterical.

“Calm down, it’s going to be okay,” the
doctor said, motioning toward the nurse.

Sera looked at her hand and realized it
did not look anything like her own; somehow, her fingers were lighter in color,
her nails were longer and thinner, and her hair was the wrong color. She
screamed and kicked, but found her body strapped to her bed. The doctor hovered
over, restraining her, whispering calm words that did nothing to ease her
terror. The nurse handed him a long needle.

The bright white light of the hospital
room dissolved into gray, then black. Her fear transformed into strange dreams
of silver light that broke upon the sleek wood of two oars.

“They’re in a coma. They may not
recover. We’ve been through this, Sera,” said an impatient voice.

Sera looked away, fighting not to
remember.

He said everything would be fine. Just a
quick dash onto the lake and back. No one was supposed to get hurt. There was
enough of that already. It’s not fair. I can’t do this.

“Sera?”

She turned back to her doctor, her eyes
wet steel.

“You’re going to have to leave in a few
days’ time. We will continue to watch after them as long as we can. You have to
say goodbye. You want to say bye, don’t you?”

She lay back down on the bed. Her eyes
closed and she sank into cold, empty sadness:
What had the first explanation
been?
He had managed to flip the boat over, but he took in too much
water. He did everything he could to save you and your brother.
She heard
her brother again—he hadn’t stopped speaking to her since she’d woken:
Stop!
You’re pulling us down.
The doctors weren’t telling her something.
Something about whose fault it was; they wouldn’t admit she was responsible for
their comas.