“Am I lonely out here? I don’t think so. Not so long as you’re here.” She chuckles, shaking her head at him. “Will you switch oars with me? I want to try yours out. I think it’s slightly longer, which works well, since I’m taller,” he pauses for dramatic effect “And more handsome.” She smiles and hands over her oar, playfully bumping the side of his head during the transfer. “Aye! Why’d you do that?” vigorously rubbing the side of his cheek, “You’ve got an arm on you—two, in fact. That’s what I love about you: if I pass out at any point, you could carry me out of a burning building.” Shaking her head again, she gestures at their surroundings, “Do you see any fires out here?” He smiles and winks, “Exactly. I’ve got nothing to worry about, right?
The afternoon passed quickly while the couple enjoyed rowing and conversing under the sun; at this point, the waves had grown choppy. The two hold tight to the sides of the boat. “Have you ever been this far out in the ocean before?” He shakes his head and replies, gritting his teeth, “I’ve been out several times with my dad, but never this far.” A wave slaps against the side of the boat, causing it to rock closer to the edge of the water. “It’s nerve-racking, you know, when someone’s put under that kind of pressure.” She squints through the sea spray hitting her eyes, “I guess that’s what you introverts do. I never got along well putting all my eggs in one basket.” He points at the approaching storm, “We need to get home, quick.” She nods her head knowingly as she moves her oars through the disturbed waters. “What did you mean by that? ‘You introverts,’ do you think I’m that introverted?” She grunts, “Yes. Of course! How many times did you walk around the house to avoid talking to my college friends? It’s ridiculous.” The waves slap against the boat more forcefully this time. “You don’t need to become extroverted, but there’s this pressure for me to be there for you all the time. I just want you to be able to fend for yourself when I’m not around.” He grunts as he strains against the waves with the oar, blisters forming on his hands.
Lightning flashes across the sky. The rain is plummeting down hard now. They’re woefully lost, spinning back and forth as the two hunch over their oars, trying to steer the boat to keep them afloat. “Goddamnit! Shit!” he grunts as another shower of icy cold ocean slams into his chest. The waves are higher now and move the boat side to side as much as up and down. “I know!” She struggles to move the boat, paddling in the best direction until realizing that he’s steering them in the opposite direction. It’s not working. “You’re paddling against me. I need you to stop worrying about steering and just trust that I know how to navigate through this.” She yells, “You got us lost!” He coughs after swallowing a mouthful of seawater, “I know that I’m struggling to get us there, but we just need to stay alive, so let me steer us around these waves.” She closes her eyes briefly before breathing deep and concluding that they’re screwed: she’s not going to steer with him; he’s not going to steer with her.
Birds peck at a carcass marooned on the beach: a crustacean. Residue from trees and shrubbery litters the coast. First aid crews are descending the bluffs to retrieve the couple who’ve been missing for several days. The crew members can’t believe that the couple missed the worst of the storm. It’s almost as if a pin held them down while the storm wreaked havoc all around their boat: an eye of the storm.