Narrowing his eyes at me, he clarifies, "Let her check out your leg before we push off, dumbass. We need the all clear from your nurse."
"Oh," I say, mouth dry. "Right."
"For fuck's sake," Finn growls, and then turns, heading to the stern to untie the ropes.
Turning to Emmy, I feel the heat of the camera's attention on us, feel the dark shadow of the boom mic inches from her face. "Maybe we can head into the galley, and you can take a look?"
She swallows, nodding quickly. "Sure."
Emmy waits while I maneuver my way down the stairs.
I look at her over my shoulder. "Where do you want to go?"
She thinks. "A bedroom maybe? A bathroom?" Lowering her voice as if it won't be caught on camera anyway, she whispers, "We could go to the kitchen, but I don't know if you want to go where they can follow us in? Since you'll have to ... uh ..." She motions vaguely to my pants, and I understand what she means: I'll have to take my pants off.
In truth, it won't matter where we go. There are cameras everywhere.
I give her a smile that's meant to be reassuring. "It's all right, let's just head in here."
She follows me into the galley, around through the bedroom, and into the lavatory. The bathroom is small on its own, but with the two of us inside, and the camera crowding the doorway, it feels minuscule. But surprisingly, the light is good, it's clean, and there's running water, which is clearly all Emmy needs because she motions for me to sit, washes her hands, and begins unpacking her medical bag on the counter.
"You still live around here?" I say, lowering myself carefully to the toilet.
"I moved away for school but came back closer, to Victoria, when my dad got sick. I'll need you to ..."
I follow her gaze and realize what she means. "Oh right," I say, and begin unfastening my belt.
"Here, let me help you."
When she reaches for my pants, I shake my head, mindful of the bandage as I ease the fabric down my hips.
"Your dad got sick?" I ask, feeling the heat in my neck, on my face, as I sit in front of her in boxers, my pants at my ankles while the cameras roll over her shoulder.
She pulls on a pair of rubber gloves, and--in a move that absolutely isn't making this any easier--kneels in front of me.
"Cancer," she says. "In his liver. I came back when he got sick." She pulls the seal off a bottle of antiseptic and opens a new roll of bandages. "Mom moved him closer to me in Victoria for a while. I was working nights in the ER so I could care of him during the day. He died about a year ago."
I think back to a year ago. In all honesty, it feels like a lifetime ago. It was around the time things were really bad. The money was gone and everything on the boat that could break down did. Finn was back and forth to San Diego, and Colton and I barely had time to leave the boat. "I'm so sorry, Emmy. I hadn't heard."
"It's okay."
"He was a good man," I add.
"Thanks, he was," she says quietly. "But yeah, he was sick. He's better off now. Does that sound terrible?"
I shake my head, staring at her face. I've never been this physically close to her.
"Does this hurt?" she asks, fingers pressing into the skin around the bandage.
I can barely breathe. "No."
She nods, whispering, "Good," as she tests other spots closer to the wound, getting a sense of whether there's sensitivity, I guess.
"My mom died of breast cancer when I was four," I say after a beat of silence. "I don't remember any of it. I think it was easier on me than my brothers or my dad. I'm sure it's hard to lose someone you've known your whole life."
"Yeah," she says, and looks up at me with a shy, grateful smile. "Thanks. You know, I've seen you a few times. Filming."
"You have?"