penguin with a Maple leaf scarf for Noah. Shane, of course, got Pink Bear, but I also gave him a few companions, some cheerful squirrels and rabbits to frolic gingerly at the feet of Velociraptor and his mortal enemies, the Decepticons.
“Is that supposed to be me or something?” Andrea asked. She had snuck up to peer over my shoulder. The fox was carrying a floppy muffin hat in its jaws.
“Yes,” I said.
“Oh, what’s that?”
Andrea and I looked up together. Cassandra was standing in front of us, her hands tucked demurely in front of her waist. It was a weird image to reconcile, her bloody blue scrubs and her sweet, pleasant smile. Cuter things dragged themselves around Silent Hill. I turned the legal pad around for her to see. Her face opened up into a beaming smile. Mother, I thought immediately. She had had kids at some point. Hmm. Perhaps my affinity for child-rearing was growing if I could notice that so easily.
“Those are adorable!”
Moms always respond to drawings like this. They instantly recognize the style, the intent. It’s like reading The Mitten and Never Smile at a Monkey is encoded into their DNA. Cassandra flopped down next to me. She seemed young to be a mom, but maybe clean living had preserved her looks. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she gazed lovingly at the animals bounding across the page. She pointed at each character in turn and named who it matched on the boat.
She was, to put it mildly, a bit on the ripe side. I switched to breathing through my mouth.
“But where’s yours?” Cassandra asked, crestfallen.
“I don’t know,” I said, using the gentle, cautious voice I used with Shane. Maybe we’d find out more than just her name if we kept her going like this. “What do you think fits?”
Cassandra glanced up from the drawings, studying me closely, beady eyes all scrunched up with concentration. I blanched, sneaking furtive glances to Andrea for moral support. She was laughing silently.
“Maybe a crow,” she said. “Or a panther … a baby one!”
“Or a weasel,” Andrea kindly supplied.
We compromised on a mink. Noah joined us, pleased with his penguin. Under his direction I sketched a few characters from The Maltese Falcon , humans this time. I tore off the drawing of the main character, Sam Spade, and gave it to Noah. Shane stared up at me and pointed to the sketch of Pink Bear. It was the most emotional communicating he’d done in days. I handed it to him and watched the tiniest of smiles tug at his lips.
Noticeably absent from our little powwow was Moritz.
He had withdrawn to the port side of the ship, silently watching the scenery go by. I brought him a piece of bread with some dried fish and an apple while Andrea looked after Shane. Moritz didn’t seem to want to meet my eyes and concentrated all of his attention on the food in his hands. His scarf rippled in the faint breeze coming from the south.
“You almost died,” he said at last.
“It happens,” I said, not wanting to dwell. “You saved my life.”
“That thing grabbed you. I thought … I don’t know. I couldn’t be responsible for that.”
“Well, you’re not,” I replied. “You saved a life. Think about that instead.”
My smile was shaky. I didn’t like hearing just how close I’d been to death. In books people always say “I’m no hero” but the difference is I mean that when I say it. Or think it. My heel still ached where the creature had pinched. I had the luxury of not knowing how that had looked and I could only imagine what Moritz had seen. I’m not even remotely a strong swimmer, so it must have been a photo finish from his perspective, with me just barely outrunning death.
“I keep seeing it in my head. I couldn’t sleep or sit still. Andrea had to give me something or I would have been up all night,” he said. Then he mumbled something under his breath in German, a curse word maybe. “Sometimes I think it would be better if I did not care for any of
“Is that supposed to be me or something?” Andrea asked. She had snuck up to peer over my shoulder. The fox was carrying a floppy muffin hat in its jaws.
“Yes,” I said.
“Oh, what’s that?”
Andrea and I looked up together. Cassandra was standing in front of us, her hands tucked demurely in front of her waist. It was a weird image to reconcile, her bloody blue scrubs and her sweet, pleasant smile. Cuter things dragged themselves around Silent Hill. I turned the legal pad around for her to see. Her face opened up into a beaming smile. Mother, I thought immediately. She had had kids at some point. Hmm. Perhaps my affinity for child-rearing was growing if I could notice that so easily.
“Those are adorable!”
Moms always respond to drawings like this. They instantly recognize the style, the intent. It’s like reading The Mitten and Never Smile at a Monkey is encoded into their DNA. Cassandra flopped down next to me. She seemed young to be a mom, but maybe clean living had preserved her looks. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she gazed lovingly at the animals bounding across the page. She pointed at each character in turn and named who it matched on the boat.
She was, to put it mildly, a bit on the ripe side. I switched to breathing through my mouth.
“But where’s yours?” Cassandra asked, crestfallen.
“I don’t know,” I said, using the gentle, cautious voice I used with Shane. Maybe we’d find out more than just her name if we kept her going like this. “What do you think fits?”
Cassandra glanced up from the drawings, studying me closely, beady eyes all scrunched up with concentration. I blanched, sneaking furtive glances to Andrea for moral support. She was laughing silently.
“Maybe a crow,” she said. “Or a panther … a baby one!”
“Or a weasel,” Andrea kindly supplied.
We compromised on a mink. Noah joined us, pleased with his penguin. Under his direction I sketched a few characters from The Maltese Falcon , humans this time. I tore off the drawing of the main character, Sam Spade, and gave it to Noah. Shane stared up at me and pointed to the sketch of Pink Bear. It was the most emotional communicating he’d done in days. I handed it to him and watched the tiniest of smiles tug at his lips.
Noticeably absent from our little powwow was Moritz.
He had withdrawn to the port side of the ship, silently watching the scenery go by. I brought him a piece of bread with some dried fish and an apple while Andrea looked after Shane. Moritz didn’t seem to want to meet my eyes and concentrated all of his attention on the food in his hands. His scarf rippled in the faint breeze coming from the south.
“You almost died,” he said at last.
“It happens,” I said, not wanting to dwell. “You saved my life.”
“That thing grabbed you. I thought … I don’t know. I couldn’t be responsible for that.”
“Well, you’re not,” I replied. “You saved a life. Think about that instead.”
My smile was shaky. I didn’t like hearing just how close I’d been to death. In books people always say “I’m no hero” but the difference is I mean that when I say it. Or think it. My heel still ached where the creature had pinched. I had the luxury of not knowing how that had looked and I could only imagine what Moritz had seen. I’m not even remotely a strong swimmer, so it must have been a photo finish from his perspective, with me just barely outrunning death.
“I keep seeing it in my head. I couldn’t sleep or sit still. Andrea had to give me something or I would have been up all night,” he said. Then he mumbled something under his breath in German, a curse word maybe. “Sometimes I think it would be better if I did not care for any of
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