Page 15 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

Ace brings me back some electrolytes and painkillers, and Aggie gives me no choice but to take them. I do, and the relief is almost immediate. I finish making my bed again, then I spend the rest of the afternoon in a restless sleep.

When night falls, I wake to the sound of Zeke cursing softly. The rain has come in, pounding the rocks, and he is trying to re-tarp a corner of the cave with a sheet of plastic they took from the shipwreck. “Fucking useless,” he mutters, then glances at me when I go to move. “Don’t get up. You look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks,” I rasp.

Ace appears from their camp, looking wet and pissed. He ignores everyone and stokes the fire which we have managed to get lit under the overhanging rock. I watch him for a long time, trying to figure out what is happening in his head. After a while, Zeke goes over to him, and the two exchange tense whispers.

Tatiana comes over, squatting by my bed. She peers at me, then glances at Ace. “You two get back together yet?”

I cough. “Zip it, woman.”

She laughs, softly. “You know where I’d be if I wasn’t stuck here?”

“Where.”

“At the finest hotel money could buy, laying in my robe on the bed, eating room service food and drinking wine right from the bottle.”

I understand that.

“You miss home?”

“Every second. Even the shitty parts.” She pauses. “I’d take the worst hangover over this. Do you?”

I shake my head. “Not home, as such, but yeah I would do anything to get back there.”

“I’m going to get you some water,” she whispers. “You’re flushed.”

She gets up and walks off. I wrap my arms around myself and try not to shiver. I stare at the fire until my eyes burn, and when I finally get up to pee in the brush at the edge of the cave, I catch a glimpse of him—alone, standing at the edge of the trees, back to us, hands balled up at his sides.

Ace, again.

He looks like something is eating him alive.

Maybe it is.

I try to sneak past, my head pounding, but he turns when he hears my footsteps.

Our eyes meet.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He turns, walking closer to me, his eyes narrowed. “You look like hell.”

“I feel it,” I admit.

Without thought, he reaches out and his hand rests against my forehead. “Fuck, Grace, you’re burning up.”

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Go lay down, I’m goin’ to get something for you.”

“I don’t want anything else, Ace. It isn’t fair if someone gets sick and I have used it all.”

“Can you just fuckin’ trust me,” he mutters.

I press my mouth closed.

He disappears and I go back to my bed, lying down, my head pounding in a way that makes it hard for me to focus on anything else. The ache in my body is growing, as if every muscle has been worked to its absolute limit. Scratching at a heap of mosquito bites on my legs, I roll to my side and try to relieve the pressure in my back. But there is no point. It doesn’t work.