A Yellow Raft

A fictional account of a man and woman stranded in the middle of the ocean.

A yellow raft relaxed above the depths of a dark blue ocean, gently swaying from one side to the other, back and forth. The hot sun filled the highest part of the sky and didn’t mind resting there for awhile. A salty breeze would begin to swirl around the raft, just to dissolve in the sun’s burning rays. And nothing but water filled time and space.

A man and a woman lay in the center of the raft, arms wrapped around each other’s bodies with legs intertwined. They cried as the orange sun slowly slid down the sky and into the furthest part of the ocean. Their tears had baked and crusted onto each other's red skin. Love and sadness filled their eyes as they looked deeper into the other’s face than they’d ever looked before. They’d stay like this for hours as they drifted in and out of sleep. They gripped each other and looked at each other. Their faces radiating by way of the sun or glimmering by way of the moon and stars. Night would pass. And then they’d hold on some more as the sun climbed back up the other side of the sky. They’d hold on to each other for dear life until the air was too hot and skin too sticky to touch.

Days would pass and the yellow raft still clung onto the ocean’s surface like a tic, eager to suck for life. Although the ocean’s surface gave nothing to the man and woman but a sad reflection.

The woman would pull out a red jug of water for herself and the man, twice each day. It sloshed deliciously inside, a different sound than that of the salty water slapping the edge of the raft. This water instead, was fresh and flavorful. The man and woman took turns carefully sipping at it for any sort of vitality it held. And then they’d carefully store the red jug away with two others -- the only things in the raft besides themselves. They needed the water, but they needed each other more.

They’d sit in silence a lot, but sometimes they’d talk for hours. They’d work through impossible plans to get rescued, nothing they hadn’t already talked about. Or work through what happened, what went wrong on their boat. They’d shake while remembering the way their boat gurgled as the last of it went under, gone forever. To leave just that paralyzing view of the infinite ocean. As they talked, their expressions filled the massive blue ocean void. The man would hold the woman as she screamed for their healthy daughter so far away with grandma and grandpa. Or the woman would hold the man as he expressed how deeply he loved and cared for her and would miss her if everything ended here. And the two of them would watch in horror as the other slowly slipped away from this life.

Just once after they’d started slipping away, the woman spoke to the man about life when their daughter was born.

The man watched the woman glow the way she used to before this hell. The way her lips moved as she talked, always stuck in a smile. Her hands flowed in all directions, so expressive as she told wonderful stories about their daughter. He listened as she described the first time their daughter opened her eyes and looked up at the woman, her mom. The man saw the way the woman paused after describing her daughter’s brilliant green eyes that looked just like his own, her husband’s. He saw in the woman’s face just how intense her feelings were at this moment, how alive she still was.

A sick fear washed over the man as he watched his wife be truly alive for the last time.

Weeks would pass and the ocean was still blue, the raft was still yellow and the sun continued its trek across the sky and down into the ocean. But the man and the woman sat with less expression each day.

The woman stared at the man and watched as he anxiously slept with his head back against the edge of the raft. He’d snore and then twitch himself awake for a moment before drifting away again. His lips chapped and skin bloody from sun exposure. She didn’t know this bony man with a beard.

The man stared at the woman as she watched the sun, blinking slowly with unfocused eyes as it neared the horizon. He didn’t know this fragile woman who hadn’t smiled or laughed in weeks. He didn’t know this woman who’d almost seemed to stop caring -- about him, about their daughter. They sat at opposite ends of the boat in silence, watching every second of a life they didn’t know, pass by.

Time kept moving and nothing felt real anymore. Hallucinations began to consume their reality as they starved to death from a lack of food, dehydration and exposure.

The woman would lean over the raft and talk into her reflection on the ocean’s surface. She’d talk to their daughter and laugh this disturbing laugh that did not belong to her.

She’d also talk to the man. Except she wouldn’t be looking at him. It was as though she didn’t realize he was even there. Neither of them were really there.

She’d stare at the horizon, at the water, straight into the sun, and talk nonsense with a stale expression.

The man no longer watched her as she talked.

The man would point to a non-existent ship and start waving and mumbling in a soft voice. He’d splash at the water like a crazy person, and then fall back into the raft and curl up in a ball moaning. He was in pain as his insides were in the process of falling apart.

He’d talk to the woman. Except he wouldn’t be looking at her. It was as though he didn’t realize she was even there. And still, neither of them were really there.

He’d hold his hands out from his face and continue mumbling while looking at them, and picking at them.

The woman no longer watched him as he talked.

Neither saw the other anymore. And even when they did, they didn’t look for long. They’d run out of water yesterday and their brains were drying up. Soon, they were going to turn into dust and crumble. The raft would stay afloat for awhile, but eventually the woman and man would drift to the bottom of the ocean.

It was another sunny day out in the middle of the ocean. The woman went limp and her heart stopped. The man watched the woman be still for awhile before he turned his head down to pick some more at his blistered hands. He wasn’t totally aware she’d just died. He said her name, Ella. Then he said his daughter’s name, Grace. He lay against the back end of the raft as the sun passed the rest of the way across the sky, drifting in and out of consciousness and then took his final breath.

The raft remained yellow, the ocean remained blue and the sun kept shining.