The Gathering Darkness by Lisa Collicutt Page A

her misery.
    I found my bag of toiletries on the floor in the small space between the foot of the bed and the wall, and took the opportunity of being alone, well almost alone, to brush my teeth with some of my drinking water. I pulled my hair brush through my tangles, raking out bits of moss and other debris as I did, and then looked for a place to sit down. The benches had been transformed into the bed, which Robyn slept in, so there wasn’t any place inside to sit.
    I limped my way out of the cabin and sat on one of the benches molded into the side of the boat. The fog had evaporated completely, and the warmth of the sun wrapped itself around my chilled body. I sat sideways, stretching my injured leg out on the bench, and pulled my pant leg up. My ankle was puffy, so I held the water bottle against it, wincing when the cold touched it.
    “It looks swollen.”
    My heart fluttered at the sound of a now familiar voice. I looked up. “I think it’s getting worse,” I said, wincing again as shooting stabs of pain shot up my leg.
    “You shouldn’t have walked on it.” Marcus jumped onto the boat, making it rock slightly, and sat down by my foot.
    “What should I have done then, stayed in bed until it got better?”
    His cheeks lifted into a grin at my sarcasm. “I wasn’t complaining.”
    I let out a sharp huff and pursed my lips. His expression grew serious, while my cheeks grew warm.
    “I jumped onto the damn boat and made it worse.”
    “Don’t curse Claire.” He smiled fondly.
    “Who’s Claire?” I had been rolling the cold bottle back and forth along the side of my ankle, and the skin there started to get numb. I lifted the bottle away to get a clear view.
    “You’re sitting on her,” he answered. Instead of looking at me, he put one hand on the back of my calf and proceeded to push my pant leg past my ankle. He succeeded by a couple inches.
    “The boat? Ouch!”
    With light fingers, Marcus pushed on the swelling.
    “The boat’s name is Claire?”
    His eyes darted to mine. “Sorry.” He stopped poking. “Yeah, meet Claire,” he said, patting the back of the molded seat.
    My mind darted back to the dreams I’d had all week. I could see Marcus bathed in light, I could hear him saying the name, “Claire.”
    “Why Claire?”
    He gave a quick laugh. “It’s stupid really.”
    “What? Tell me,” I coaxed
    Whether he realized it or not, the hand that had been poking at the swelling now rested on my leg. A light breeze blew hair into my eyes. I quickly tucked it behind my ear, never taking my gaze from Marcus’.
    “Claire’s a girl I used to dream about,” he said. The sudden blush on his cheeks peeked through the tan.
    “You had a crush on Claire?” I couldn’t help but smile.
    He laughed. “No, no. I used to call the name out in my sleep when I was little. No one knows why, or who Claire is.”
    I almost stopped breathing.
Tell him
.
TELL HIM
. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the dream, because that would be admitting that I dreamed about him.
    “Cool,” I said quietly.
    “So, when I was ten years old and we got the boat, my mom and dad were talking about a name, and I suggested Claire, so that’s what they named it.”
    I nodded, watching the breeze lift dark wisps of hair off his forehead.
    “So, you’re not going to laugh at my imaginary girlfriend?”
    “No. I think it’s sweet.”
Sweet and significant
.
    With my teeth ground together, I lifted my knee, putting too much pressure on my ankle and quickly gave up.
    “You look like you’re in a lot of pain. Do you want some Tylenol?”
    I nodded. I hadn’t realized my face had contorted into a grimace, but even now that I was aware of it, my expression didn’t change. I
was
in pain.
    Marcus disappeared inside the cabin. I let my arm rest over the side of the boat. “So you’re, Claire,” I said softly, caressing the smooth, white side with my hand. Over my shoulder, I could see people back on the beach