CHAPTER TWENTY
HANK
Four days later...
“Prepare yourself for wonderment. Amazement. An engineering miracle you’ll gasp to behold!”
Elliot stands naked on the beach, berry juice and flowers smeared across his bloodshot eyes as makeup. A few feet away, I stand in my boxer briefs with my shirt tied around my head to protect the back of my neck from the occasional sunshine.
“You finished the raft already?” I ask, weak with hunger.
Elliot smiles. He turns and, with some struggle, pulls away the branch that’s covering the raft. There’s no big surprise. I’ve been watching it come together as he worked on it the past few days. But I am impressed by how quickly he accomplished the task.
“I finished the raft!” he declares. The thin logs are tied with strips of cattail stalk, and Elliot jumps onto them. He places his fists on his hips, elbows defiantly jutting out, and looks into the distance. “A worthy vessel for the angry sea.”
I sputter. “Not so fast. I thought I was clear that I’m not taking the raft out to sea.”
I’ve been glad for Elliot to have a project that brings him joy. Ever since the elephant seals destroyed our dry signals, we’ve been struggling. Starting over has been a hassle, the only other appropriate location to stage the signals being a significant hike from our fires. That and the continued lousy weather has made our daily tasks grueling, harder still with our diminishing strength. Every night that passes, the elements take their toll, too.
Working on the raft made Elliot happy, so I wasn’t going to stop him. No way I’m risking a trip out to sea, though.
Elliot shrugs. “I know we’re not venturing a voyage to the other island,” he acknowledges. “At least not yet. But you’re not appreciating the magnitude, Hank.” He gets down and starts pulling it into the water, struggling. “I made a raft. Do you have any idea what that means?”
I follow him into the sea and help him push it a little. “It’s a big accomplishment. I just think that frustratingly slow, dogged progress on our signals is preferable to risking the open sea again. We barely survived on a proper life raft, after all.”
When Elliot gets the raft into deep enough water, it floats. He lets out a whoop and scrambles on, standing proudly but unsteadily while it starts to drift out.
I stop following and, despite my exhaustion, I can’t help but grin and watch him for a moment. He’s bedraggled and filthy, but still beaming through the pain. Seeing him persevere gives me energy, too.
“It is pretty amazing that you made that,” I say.
Elliot lights up even more. “I know! But this is what I’m talking about. Back in civilization, if you had asked me whether I was capable of building a raft with basically no supplies, I’d have laughed in your face.” He throws his head back and laughs loudly to demonstrate, then skips his feet a little. The raft wobbles, but he throws his arms back out, catches his balance,and doesn’t fall. “But here on the island, I just went ahead and did it! I think I’m becoming more powerful or something. Capable.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I’m castaway Elliot now.”
I wade into the water to look closer at his craftsmanship. “It does look sturdy,” I acknowledge. “Constructed well.”
Elliot jumps off the raft and into the water. “That’s because castaway Elliot is careful. Detail-oriented.” He wades to shore and grabs a few things. “He doesn’t mess around,” he says as he returns to the raft. After he climbs up again, Elliot holds his rock-phone out. “Don’t need this anymore,” he says before tossing it into the sea.
“Your phone!” I say, surprised.
Elliot shakes his head. “I haven’t checked it in days,” he says, and turns a piece of driftwood in his hand. “I build rafts now.”
Entertained, I encourage him. “You constructed it much faster than I thought possible, too.”
He gets his face down close to the wood. “Look,” he says. “The cattail stalks. You taught me how to use them like this for our shoes, and I figured out the lashing technique.” He tugs on a stalk to demonstrate its strength. “It’s not just a raft,” he says. “It’s a testament to my growth. And to us!”
I pull on one of the stalks, nice and firm. “Psychologically, it is nice to know we have a vessel available. Although no amount of sentimental talk will convince me to brave the sea.”
Elliot takes my hand, and I tilt my eyes to him while waves rise and fall at my thighs.
“Thank you,” Elliot says. “That’s all I’m trying to say. Not just for knowing what plants to eat and how to build a signal fire. I’d never have learned how to be castaway Elliot without you, so thank you for taking care of me, Hank.”
I smile, warmed by the sentiment. Taking care of him feels good, so I’m glad he appreciates it, too. “Your welcome,” I tellhim. “And it’s reciprocal. I don’t know what I’d do without you, castaway Elliot.”
He laughs warmly and squeezes my hand. “Good.”
We’re struggling to survive, but he’s right that we’ve accomplished a lot together. Deep emotions stir inside me as I consider him, complex feelings I can barely begin to unpack.
“Help me onto this raft,” I tell him. “No reason we shouldn’t take it around the cove.”
