The waves were calm and the morning air cool as I sat motionless on the edge of the raft. The swimming suit-net I had previously constructed lay quietly across my fingertips, and my eyes were trained directly at three large brown pelicans floating on the water about twenty feet away. They had apparently given up on the whole fishing thing as well and were just resting on the water. They hardly took any notice of me or the craft floating near them.
I spread my fingers slowly over my thighs and then raised my hands up just a fraction of an inch, holding them quiet and still again. Like catching fish, netting birds is all about patience. Pelicans weren’t too quick when it came to taking flight from the water, which gave me an added advantage, however slight it may have been.
I pulled my feet up under me, balancing precariously on the edge of the raft and trying not to let the swaying of the craft freak the birds out. Unfortunately, I had caught their attention and had to remain still in that awkward position while they eyed me for a minute. Fortunately, that minute was enough for the raft to drift a little closer to the group.
Springing out away from the raft with the net outspread, I landed in the water on top of all three of them, and the beak of one was thrust through the net. The other two were dunked but resurfaced quickly and took to the air, abandoning their companion. I broke its neck and pulled at the tether until I reached the edge of the raft again.
I used a little of the water to clean the meat from the fragile bones. Bird meat isn’t that great to eat raw because of their predilection for parasites, so I cleaned it carefully. Making sure it was relatively safe was worth a little water waste. I cut the meat into strips and lay them out on the canopy of the raft to dry in the sun. It would make it a little more palatable at least.
When I slid back through the opening, Raine was awake and taking a drink of water.
“Full water rations today,” I told her. “Tomorrow we go to two-thirds.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Raine responded dryly. I stared at her for a minute, a dozen insults forming on my lips. Then I remembered how I woke up, with her hand still tangled through my hair and my head using her stomach as a pillow. She was warm and soft and…
Damnit.
“Good morning,” I mumbled. “We’ll be having a late lunch, but we will be eating.”
“You found fish?”
“No,” I said. “Pelican. I’m sure it?
?s a delicacy somewhere, too.”
Raine snickered, and I smiled at the sight of her bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. We passed the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon talking bullshit. She talked about friends of hers and their crazy shopping habits, and I talked about how much juvenile detention sucked. When I checked the meat again, it was dry enough to eat at least, so I pulled half of it in, handed Raine a chunk, and showed her how to tear it into smaller chunks to eat it.
“It’s your turn,” I told her.
“What do you want me to talk about?” Raine asked.
“Tell me about your mom,” I suggested, silently hoping I wasn’t treading on ground best left untraveled. Then I wondered where the hell that thought even came from. Since when did I give a shit? Oh yeah, since now, apparently. “You never mention her.”
“There isn’t a lot to say,” Raine responded. She placed a small bit of pelican meat into her mouth and made a face while she chewed it. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the taste or my question. “When I was four, she died in a car accident. I was in the backseat, but I don’t remember anything about it. Icy roads, nasty curve that she must have taken too fast for the road conditions. Dad almost wasn’t going to let me learn how to drive when I turned sixteen. He never really got over her.”
“Do you remember her at all?”
“Yes, some things.” Raine looked up to me, then back down to her hands again. “She was your typical post-sixties eccentric hippie. I remember her always taking me places to plant trees and pick up paper along the road to recycle. We even made our own paper from the stuff we found once, and then I drew pictures on it for my dad’s desk at the station. She worked part-time at the hospital, so she was always around when I got home from school. When I was little, Dad said she took me to the playground at a nearby park every day to ride the merry-go-round. Apparently, I liked spinning in circles until I puked.”
Raine chuckled quietly.
“It sounds like you were close,” I said. I’d long stopped feeling jealous of people’s relationships with their parents, but I still found myself wondering if my mother had ever done anything like that with me.
“We were,” Raine acknowledged. “Her passing probably made me a lot closer to my dad than I might have been otherwise. Being a single parent was hard for him, especially when I got older and he had to explain the facts of life to me. I think he just about turned red when he had to talk about feminine hygiene!”
This time, Raine laughed out loud. Her comment sparked another question.
“Um, speaking of such things…” I raised an eyebrow at her. “We’ve been out here two weeks now and...well…are we going to run into that problem?”
Raine looked at me through narrowed eyes for a moment and then opened them wide with understanding.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “No, no…no worries there. I have crazy cycles and really bad cramps, so I get that birth control shot. I don’t have cycles at all anymore. I had a shot right before I left for the cruise, and they are good for three months, maybe longer.”
“Well, that’s damn handy, given the circumstances.”
“No kidding!”
Like such topics tend to do, the conversation was killed. We sat back, and I divvied out water and a little more bird meat. I pretended not to watch her take the cup of water, lick her lips, drink, lick her lips again, and wipe her mouth. After a couple minutes of that, I had to stop looking or it was going to be pretty obvious what I was really thinking about when it came to that mouth and those lips.