Dark Beach - By Lauren Ash Page 0,34
He looked so big folded into that cramped space. Jenny tried not to bump knees with him under the table, but it was unavoidable.
“No naps on this vessel—not unless you want a bucket of water thrown over you and told to get back to work.”
“Ha! I wasn’t planning on it. So, your father?”
Kurt shook his head. “You don’t forget, do you?” He ripped off a hunk of bread and offered her a piece.
“A sore subject?” Jenny slathered the chunk of bread in butter and dipped it in her soup, not making eye contact.
“No. Not really. Just maybe not an exciting one. We spent most of our lives working together, but barely muttered a word between us that didn’t have anything to do with fishing. Now he’s at home blind: cataracts apparently. They came on suddenly and he can’t see well enough to do the work, only to get himself around the house. Just listens to sports all day. I check in on him in the evenings to make sure he’s fine, bring him his groceries—that sort of thing.”
“What’s his name?”
“Barney. Blundering Barney on the boat. He was a great fisherman, but always blundering about onboard, so loud with his boots, always smoking a cigar. Always made us all wear neon life vests. He’d yell, ‘If I fall in the water, at least I’ll be found, either by sharks or by one of you shining bastards.’”
Jenny’s brain ticked away. So this was Gerry’s fisherman’s boat—Barney’s boat. She stared up at the dim exterior. A picture of Barney hung behind Kurt’s head. A more recent picture, she realized; he looked much older than he did in the one hanging in the beach house. She continued to gaze at the boat in wonder. This was where they met for their secret lunches. She couldn’t help but wonder if Barney still visited her over at the home, or if Kurt knew anything about any of it.
“Barney.” She ran the name over her tongue. “It’s not a common name.”
“My mother wanted to name me Barney as well, but Dad wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t like the name.”
“Your mother?”
Kurt paused. “Yes.”
She waited.
He shook his head. “Long gone now. City born, Dad said. Didn’t like being a fisherman’s wife. She up and left us when I was three,” he said soberly. “I don’t even remember her. Dad looked after me, always has. Enough about me. Tell me about you.”
Jenny fidgeted, stirring her soup again.
“All I know is that you’re married, and you’re on your vacation—alone.”
The word alone chimed out like an accusation. Everything seemed to close in on her—the dark wooden walls that had concealed strangers, fish, men, lovers. Kurt was a stranger, too, yet every line in his face seemed like a crevice she could get lost in.
“Jenny?”
What am I doing here on this stranger’s boat anyway? I should get back to the beach house, to Kip.
“I need some fresh air.” She pushed the bowl away and leaped up from the crowded table. “It’s cramped in here.”
Kurt stood too and put a hand on her arm. “We’ll get some air. I’ll take us out. You can feel the freshest air there is—the ocean gusts.”
* * *
Dark-grey clouds filled the sky, turning the water as black as night, even though it was still day. Jenny leaned over the side of the boat, staring into the water. The wind was cold, and so was she, but she was beyond doing much about it.
“Maybe we’ll see a whale,” Kurt called out from the cabin, his voice pitched to carry above the noise of the boat motor.
“I hate whales.” Jenny focused on her own reflection, her face seeming to morph into the waves, as if she were one with them.
“You hate whales! How can you hate whales? They’re the most beautiful creatures in the ocean; I’ve seen many.”
Then why are its teeth so sharp? She saw them appear in the black water, beckoning to her, centering over her head as if to take a huge bite.
“I see them weekly, actually. Sometimes they follow the boat, as if they’re playing.” Kurt kept talking, but Jenny was no longer listening.
He glanced over. “Jenny?” He switched the motor off. “Jenny, you there? Come on in here and I’ll let you steer. It’s fun; you’ll love it.” She was nowhere to be seen. Absolutely nowhere. Then it occurred to him to look out beyond the railing. “Oh shit. This is bad. This is real bad.”
He scanned the dark water and saw the gleam