Diana reaches out and takes your hand again, and then you’re in the middle of a lake, under your boat, trying to keep hell at bay. You can only hope that the others have created some kind of makeshift fire shelter on their own. But there’s no way to look for them now without risking a severe burn. In the chaos that follows, you have no sense of time. You know you’re treading water, moving your body to stay afloat, but you can barely feel your limbs. The patter above you sounds like a hailstorm. And you stay under your shell.
“The others…,” you say, trying not to cry.
“We can’t think about that now,” says Diana. “There’s nothing we can do.”
But a pinch in her voice tells you she isvery muchthinking about it now and wondering if she should risk looking for them. You both splash around for a second, attempting to stay contained in your little pocket of safety without drowning.
“Talk to me about something,” says Diana. “Can you do that?”
Her voice echoes in your little cave, but you can’t quite see her clearly in the dark yet.
“What… do you want me to say?” you croak, surprised you still have a voice.
“I don’t care,” she says. “Anything. I’m freezing and scared and I just need a distraction. Just say something.”
You kick your legs, barely keeping your chin above water. Your clothes are getting heavy, but you couldn’t take them off at this point without going under.
“Okay,” you say. “Okay. I don’t know what to say, so I’ll just say that the answer is yes to your question from before.”
Diana is silent.
“Do you remember…”
“Yes!” she says. “I remember. Just keep talking. What do you mean, yes?”
“Yes, it was guilt,” you say. “That’s what kept me from answering your calls after the funeral. It was a terrible thing to do, and I’m sorry!”
She doesn’t say anything, which you take as your cue to keep going.
“I guess I thought maybe it was better if we just didn’t seeeach other again. Like, it would hurt too much and it wouldn’t help us heal. Does that make any sense? I don’t know anymore if it does.”
You’re speaking quickly, and in the quiet that follows, a few embers glance off the boat.
“It does,” she says. “But about the guilt…”
Her teeth are starting to chatter.
“Yeah.”
“I’m just going to say it, Case. Because, at this point, there’s nothing to stop me. Do you really think your brother died because we kissed one time in a kitchen? I mean, is that what you think happened?”
Her last words echo beneath the roof of the boat.
“I don’t know,” you say, swallowing a little water. “Maybe.”
The outline of Diana’s face is starting to form in the dark.
“I don’t think it works that way,” she says.
You look down into the water, which is largely still now. You can only see a flash of your kicking legs before the water gets too murky.
“It just felt so wrong,” you say.
“Kissing me?”
“No,” you sigh. “Being… in love with you. It felt like the worst thing I could possibly do. Like maybe it was so wrong that it had the power to destroy things. Even lives. That’s how it felt to me.”
She’s still holding your hand, but she lets go for a moment to tread water more fully. Something large hits the boat and you both gasp, but it doesn’t hurt you. It doesn’t get in. Diana steadies her breathing.
