The Smell of Other People's Hou - Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock Page 0,49
I’m dead?”
“Oh.”
I should say something, but what? What did I expect he was thinking? That he’s never had so much fun in his life, cleaning fish and smelling humpy poop and being with me? What did I think he was, a stray puppy? Daddy, can I keep him?
“Well, my dad could call the ferry again.” I try not to sound like I hoped he was thinking about me.
“Are you jealous?” he says. But it sounds like a statement, not a question.
“Of course I’m not.”
“Really? You seem like it. A tiny bit?”
I flick water at him from the side of the boat, trying to hide what he clearly sees.
“Watch it,” he says. “These are probably the last dry clothes anyone is going to lend me.”
This is definitely true, so I stop.
“Tell me about your brothers,” I say.
Why do I keep lying? I get it that he’s going to think about his brothers, but every time it feels like we might be getting closer, he pulls away. Is it wrong that I want him to say he’s thrilled that I saved him and he’s never been happier, and then I want him to shut up and kiss me already?
“I think you should tell your dad that you want to dance,” he says. “It’s obvious how much he loves you—he’d just want you to be happy.”
I don’t know if I’m angry at him all of a sudden because I’m embarrassed about my obvious feelings, or sad that he’s going to leave soon. Or maybe I wish my dad would help me get what I want, as much as he’s trying to help Sam.
“You’ve been on this boat for less than two weeks, and you think you know us?” I snap.
He looks stunned. I’m surprised, too, at how my words crack out of my mouth like a whip. I don’t sound like myself at all.
But I’ve kept my nose out of his business; I haven’t asked what he was running away from or why he was even on the side of that ferry anyway. Now he’s trying to tell me what to do, like he knows my dad better than I do?
“You’re talking to me like I’m an idiot,” he says.
“Idiot is a bit strong; maybe you’re just overly optimistic about how easy it is to talk to my dad.” I try to calm down, to not sound mean.
How did this go so terribly wrong?
“Well, you should meet my brother Jack someday,” he says, turning the Pelican to port and heading back to where the Squid is anchored. “He makes me look like a pessimist.”
I’ve hit a nerve with him, too.
“My life’s just kind of…complicated,” I mumble.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he says. “Mine has always been cake.”
He digs in hard with the oars as the clouds roll in and choppy waves slap against the Pelican.
—
We’re climbing back on board the Squid when I hear the marine operator through the speaker on the deck. “Marine vessel Matanuska, calling fishing vessel Squid, do you copy?”
My dad answers, “This is W-A-J-eighty-four-eighty-five the Squid, channel ten?”
“Roger, channel ten.”
He switches it away from sixteen, the Coast Guard emergency call channel, and over to ten. I imagine half the fleet is switching to ten as well. It’s the fishermen’s version of daytime soap operas, eavesdropping on everyone’s marine radio calls.
Sam’s face has gone an ashy-gray color, our little squabble forgotten.
I tie the Pelican’s bowline to the Squid’s stern, and we go stand outside the wheelhouse door. I don’t think Dad heard us come back.
“So, those boys you wondered about? They turned themselves in,” says a scratchy voice from deep inside the radio. “Prince Rupert.”
“Are they headed back this way?” my dad asks.
“No, they had to be handed over to authorities and it’s all private—looks maybe like some kind of domestic issue.”
“How long ago?”
“About a week and a half.”
Sam has been with us all that time, and I can see he’s doing the math in his head, too.
“Any idea where they’ve been sent?”
“Looks like a social worker stepped in and they’re moving them to Fairbanks. We were just going over the call logs and saw that you’d been asking.”
Sam holds his breath.
I wait for my dad to say something about Sam, but he just shakes his head a little and says he thought he might know the boys, but he was wrong. “Thanks for the shout. W-A-J-eighty-four-eighty-five the Squid, clear.”
Sam looks like he might need the bucket. But when my dad puts the mike back on the hook,