Some days, he requires I pretend the raw fish is actually my dinner, so I have to take a fake bite then give it to him.
He might be a little shit, but he’s starting feel likemylittle shit.
A fin pokes out of the water and starts swimming toward me. I lift my legs out and cross them on my board, watching him closely.
Vasz sticks his head out, a long stick between his teeth. He growls when I reach for it, and I roll my eyes. “Wow, Vasz.” I pat his head, entertaining his need for constant praise. “Look at what you’ve got there. Good job.”
He chuffs, all cocky, as if confirming that it is, in fact, a good stick, then dives beneath the waves, swimming off to God knows where.
It’s on my to-do list to ask Ordus why they’re currently giving each other the cold shoulder, or they’ll argue with each other to the point that Vasz barks, and Ordus says something that sounds a lot like “She’s not yours.”
But he’s not really talking to me much.
Sometimes he huffs and gives me shit for encouraging Vasz’s spoiled ass, but hell, sometimes I just want to dress the shark-dog up like a hula girl or something.
I drop onto my stomach and paddle toward the oncoming wave. A smile pulls at my lips at the flash of red and yellow gliding through the water alongside me. He’s always around somewhere.
The stage-five clinger sleeps with me every night, so I have approximately half an inch of breathing space at any given moment, with Ordus on one side and Vasz on the other. Sleeping while touching someone took some getting used to—I’m not even sure Iamused to it yet.
Vasz races me back toward the shore, doing loops around me when I slow to a stop, patiently waiting for the next wave that tickles my fancy.
I crane my neck toward the beach, hoping to see Ordus somewhere, but, as usual, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Other than the forced sleeping arrangement, Ordus gives me more breathing room than I expected. He’s normally lurking around somewhere, but without fail, he’s always there for lunch and dinner, only really speaking to ask whether I’ve eaten enough—which I most definitely have.
Otherwise, our communication consists of me talking at him, ordering him to get this or that, hammer a nail here, set the wood at that angle there—a little higher on the left, nope, too high.
The few times I’ve covertly tried looking for him, I found him at the workshop, either making improvements to the shed or creating something. Every two or three days, he’s gone for long stretches of time, returning with food, water, and random knick-knacks from the mainland and sea life he’s hunted for us.
Space from Ordus was good at the start.
I don’t find it so good anymore.
I miss the mainland. I miss interacting with people. I miss feeling like I’m not the only person in existence.
Vasz is great, but not quite enough.
Tipping my head up, I spot the angry storm clouds in the distance and internally grumble.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning. That old sailor’s adage was utter bullshit. It was nice and blue when I woke up today.
If I had known the weather was going to turn, I would have spent the entire day reinforcing and adding more rainwater traps so I don’t have to take really pathetic baths in the blow-up kiddy pool Ordus brought me.
Ordus promised to get me a proper bathtub one day, but my current digs suit me just fine. At the start, it was a little demeaning to use it, but then Ordus brought me a bottle of vodka, and one day, I got loose and limber and started feeling like a mermaid in that thing. Ever since, I’ve been kind of fond of it.
Plus, it’s not like I’m staying here forever.
It’s just temporary, until I feel ready to venture back out into the real world and go back to jumping at my own shadow. Or until Ordus gets bored or tired of “running around” for me and takes me back.
Some unpleasant feeling churns in my gut at the thought.
I shake my head and paddle back to shore. We need some kind of tank to store all the water to limit further contamination. The drums are okay for now, but I’d feel better if I had a backlog in case of a rainy day.
Well, in case it stops raining.
I jog back toward the shed with my board. Vasz runs alongside me, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, yipping, thinking we’re on some kind of mission.
One of our newly acquired chickens screeches when it sees us and dashes back to the coop Ordus made.
