The sun hovered below the horizon, and the last pinks and oranges faded into the abyss. Floating on the tide, a boat rocked here and there against the calm waves of the Pacific. Beneath a wooden ceiling, two business partners ate their humble dinner by candlelight. A pile of oysters lay between them. Their only company were the waves gently crashing against their boat, the sound of their slurping, and their shadows cast by a wax flame. Enzo, the older of the two, opened his mollusk slowly, and sucked with bitter resentment. It had only been six days since their food supply ran out. His stomach asked for bread and cake, but the sea gave him oysters and salt. Immanuel, on the other hand, hunched over his plate. His mind not on the taste of his food, but of the quantity. His fingers raced to keep up with his appetite. An oyster, a slurp, an empty shell in the bucket. Crack, slurp, ping. Crack, slurp, ping. Crack, slurp, ping.
This had become routine for them. Like brushing their teeth or making the bed. It was mindless. It was part of the order of things. They’d come downstairs for supper, eat until their bullies were full or they were out of mollusks, whichever came first (usually it was the mollusks), and then they’d go outside and gaze the stars. Neither one of them were well versed in astronomy. Ever since their compass cracked, they’d look at the night sky not for direction, but for comfort. Then they’d argue. “No, that un’s Ursa minor.” One would say. “Ursa minor me fanny it is!” That was part of the routine too. They needed routine. Anything to keep their mind off the boat.
Two clunks echoed from opposite buckets. Between Enzo and Immanuel, a single oyster remained from the pile before. Like a cactus in the desert, it was alone on a plate on a vast cedar table. Immanuel got up from his seat and reached forward.
“In just where d’ya think yer going with that?” Enzo jested.
Immanuel parried. “Where d’ya think?”
“Aye, ’n you think you can get away with that, don’t ya now? You’s got a bucket full ‘a empty oysters ’n I only gots half. I think we both know where that’s going.” Enzo lifted his bucket up for emphasis.
“You only got half ‘cause you don’t eat nothing.”
“Nothing?” Enzo chuckled. “You’s right, I don’t eat nothing. Only cause you can eat faster ’n you can breathe! By the time I get me one open, yer already on yer third.”
“Yer only eating so slow cause yer hands are too weak to get em open. Besides. I need the energy. I’m still in me prime! A man can’t be famished while he’s in his prime. Bad for his health.”
“You’re older ’n I am! You’re nearly sixty-six.”
“Sixty-six I am. And If you’d take care of yourself more maybe you’d look as good as me in five years.”
Immanuel, already up, reached forward again. Enzo grabbed the table and pulled it towards him. The oyster scooted out of Immanuel’s reach.
“I’ll wrestle ya arms for it.” Declared Enzo.
“Wrestle arms?” Immanuel broke with laughter. “You surprise me Enzo. I didn’t think yer arms could do more than wipe yer bum.”
“We’ll just see about that!”
Outside, the winds were picking up, and the waves grew taller. The waves rocked the boat with a steady momentum. Enzo and Immanuel cleared the table. On one end, the prized oyster. In the center, two salty brothers rolled up their sleeves and clutched palms. With his flesh made bare, Enzo’s skin hung from his arm like damp laundry in the spring. Immanuel, however, had no extra skin to spare. You could see every vein in his arms. It was so tight, you could see his blood being pumped through them.
On the count of three, the fight for power began. Neither wanted to bulge, both arms shook with passion. An inch would be gained by Enzo, then re-gained by Immanuel. Immanuel would nudge territory, then Enzo would bring him to the center. Enzo grunted. Immanuel’s forehead started to sweat. The ocean slid the table and threw them both off balance. They re-found their posture and Immanuel’s hand fell back. With a grunt, Immanuel found hidden strength. Enzo’s hand lost territory by degree until Immanuel slammed it down with a bang.
“The Ocean did if for ya!” Enzo bellowed.
“Nonsense! The ocean moves with no man nor beast. This ‘un’s mine.” Immanuel snatched his trophy. “In now. For me victory.” Immanuel tugged on the lips of the shellfish, but they were sealed shut.
“If ya can’t get her open, she doesn’t deserve ya.”
“Who’s gonna open her then? You? Ya can’t even win a wrestling match.”
Enzo watched with crossed arms as Immanuel struggled to pry open the last of his dinner. They had been on the boat for three months now, although they weren’t too certain. They knew they’d been out at sea for two months and thirteen days before the storm. After the storm hit and their compass cracked and the sail torn, it was another thirty-nine days. They’d lost count after that. During that time, they’d lost most of their food and nearly all their water. In only one-hundred and one days, Enzo got use to the sting of hunger. The sting of losing hurt worse.
Immanuel was too conscious of his own trouble to notice. He pulled the edges, but it was sealed tight. He avoided making eye contact with Enzo. Immanuel had an image to maintain, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask Enzo for help.
“Why don’t ya use the —,”
“I have it!”
Immanuel tossed it to the ground, and stomped his heel into the shell.
“Got it.”
A certain pride returned to Immanuel’s voice. He lifted up his boot and scraped off his dinner. Bits of the bottom shell remained. He took from the floor and sucked, slurping loud enough to remind Enzo who the winner was when something hit his upper tooth. He winced. It tasted bitter. He pulled from his mouth a gold coin. He pulled the excess mucus off with his lips.
“Enzo. Look.”
The face of the coin was a man’s profile. From the hat and beard Immanuel guessed it was Spanish. The reverse carried two swords, forming an X. Underneath the X, an unrecognizable, smooth bump. This gold use to say something, Immanuel thought. She carries a lot of weight for something so tiny.
“Spose it’s me lucky day, Enzo.”
“Or unlucky.”
“How can I be unlucky when I got a piece of gold in me hands?”
"Where do ye suppose ye can spend it?”
“There’s lot of places I can spend it. Perhaps the market, or the tailor. Aye, that sounds right. I’ll get me a new pair a loafers. Or perhaps I’ll spend a night with me favorite holler girl. Aye, there’s lots a man can buy with a piece of gold. And plenty a places where he can spend it.”
“Aye, but the baker and tailor can’t be found in the ocean.”
“When I get back then.”
“In suppose we never make it back?”
“Then it’ll grow heavy in me pocket.”
Enzo growled. “No, I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. She’s mine.”
“She’s a cursing is what she is.”
“A cursing? From who? The Ocean?”
“Aye, the Ocean.”
“The Ocean has no favorites Enzo. And if she did, yer just red in anger and green with envy cause ya lost arms, ya lost yer dinner, and now ya lost yourself one fine piece a gold. Aye, the Ocean has no favorites, but it seems it has favored me.”
“Yer loot’s not gonna do ya no good, now or never Immanuel.”
“Aye, why don’t ya quit with your sad demeanor? It’s y’er turn to clean dinner.”
There were a few pieces of oyster left on the floor. Immanuel kicked them and they skid across the wood. He walked upstairs. It was the stairs that gave him the hunch in his back. The cold, salty air was waiting for Immanuel that night. He looked into the vast emptiness. Black ahead of him. Shimmers above. He wasn’t use to nothing. He grew up where mountain ranges painted the vista with rich colors and textures. He thought of log cabins and warm clothes. He thought of rich dinners by the fireplace and storytelling with his mates. He thought of his parents tucking him in at night. He thought of waking up to a loud crash.
A gush of water descended the stairs and crawled towards his bed. Enzo was already trying to shut the door. Immanuel saw lightning swirling inside the clouds through the open hallaway. The heavens boomed and brought Enzo to his knees. Immanuel got out of bed. With water above his ankles, he dragged his feet towards the stair. Immanuel stepped over Enzo and held onto the railing. He looked up, and a wall of water towered over them. It fell. Immanuel never let go of the railing but he could feel the river running over him. Enzo was knocked back to the wall of the cabin. Then everything went white. There was a crack. His vision faded back in and he saw the mast of the ship level with the boat, then carried into oblivion. The wind stopped. The water settled. And Immanuel shut the door.
There was a slight chill in the air. Immanuel could remember the water, like shackles, around his ankles. The moon glowed behind a thin layer of clouds. It had been two weeks since he saw anything in the sky other than the sun, moon or stars. May I never see another cloud again, he thought. He rubbed the coin between three fingers. He kissed it. Thoughts of fresh bread and female company kept troubled water from crashing into his mind.
Despite his earlier anxieties, that night Immanuel slept in peace. Enzo sat upright, watching him. Ever since the storm, Immanuel started acting funny. They were brothers turned business partners. Now, Immanuel made himself master and his brother slave. Do the dishes Enzo. Bring in the line Enzo. Clean the loo Enzo. There wasn’t much to do on a piece of driftwood, but it was Enzo who did everything. Enzo was tired of it. It’s y’er turn to clean dinner. Those words sizzled in Enzo’s ear. Immanuel needed reminding that they were brothers. Business partners even. And good partners split things fifty-fifty.
The boat rocked steadily. Enzo got out of bed and moved, swaying with the boat’s rhythm. Immanuel’s tan face and wrinkles looked innocent in slumber. He was like a baby in his mother’s arms. Enzo knew babies shouldn’t always get their way. If a baby wanted to touch a fire, he’d get burned. Enzo was doing the part of a mother, protecting her child from a danger he couldn’t understand. Yes! Enzo was protecting Immanuel from a burning fire.
The candle cast Enzo’s shadow over Immanuel’s bed. The coin sagged in Immanuel’s breast pocket. Immanuel’s eyes fluttered, but he was still asleep. With steady hands, Enzo used his forefinger to push the coin upwards. Slowly. The coin slithered across Immanuel’s chest. It was free. Enzo held it in his hands.
Equal, Enzo thought. Partners. Enzo was at the bow of the ship. The sky was clear except for a storm miles in the distance. Enzo could see lightning scatter where the heavens met. The boat bobbed from the remote disturbance. Thunder gave an indistinguishable whisper. This was the first time Enzo had held the coin in his own hands. It was cold to the touch. Enzo liked that feeling. It was smooth between his fingers. He liked that too. He lifted his hand back to toss it into the ocean, then a thought came to him: Maybe he didn’t have to get rid of it. Maybe they could wait until they were rescued and split the profits. Immanuel was right, there’s lots a man can buy with a gold coin. And they were business men, so why not keep the profits of the business? But if Immanuel kept it, he would continue to be the master over Enzo. But if Enzo kept it, he would be the master. But if he found it, Immanuel would punish Enzo. What if Immanuel had more coins Enzo didn’t know about? He wouldn’t miss this one. No, no. That’s silly. Immanuel would have said something. If I kep’ her, he thought, I would be the master.
The coin plopped into the water. Enzo climbed back in bed, and joined Immanuel in peaceful dreams, forgetting about the coin.
~
“Where is it! Where is she?”
Enzo woke to a chair breaking against the wall. Splinters rained on his head. Immanuel turned over desks, nightstands, anything he could find.
“Me coin! I lost me coin!”
“What’s got you possessed?” Enzo asked with sleep in his mind.
“Ye haven’t seen it have ya?”
“Seen what?”
“Me coin! I lost me coin! The Goddess of the Ocean blest me with riches and now I went and brought damnation to my soul!”
Immanuel picked up his bed and flipped it over. He ripped open the bedding and threw white cotton all over the floor.
“You’re making a terrible mess!”
“Won’t you help me look Enzo?”
“What are ye talking about?”
“You fool! Don’t you see? You said it yourself. The Ocean blest me with a gold coin, and now that I went and lost it, I’m afraid I’m bringing her wrath upon the both of us! Get up and help me look for it Enzo!”
“She ain’t bringing her wrath on no one in this here boat. Do ye think ye lost her on the upper deck?”
“I had her in my pocket when I was going to sleep! I hadn’t gone up after that. I’m sorry Enzo. I cursed me-self and I brought you with me!”
“Aye, calm down. Ain’t no cursing upon neither of us. I’ll help ya look.”
“I had her right here Enzo.” Immanuel pried open his breast pocket with his two fingers. “Now she’s gone for good.”
“I said I’ll help ya look for it. Now calm down before I go back to bed.”
“Yes, Enzo. Anything you say. Please help take this cursing away from us.”
“And you said you were just on yer side of the room?”
“Aye. Right yonder and here no more.”
Immanuel went back to sifting through cotton. Enzo bit his lip to hide his excitement and joined in pulling apart the threads.
“Enzo?”
“Aye?”
“How do ya suppose we lift this cursing off us, if I really did lose her?”
“Immanuel. Do you feel the boat rocking?”
“Aye.”
“No, I mean really rocking? You ain’t falling down as you walk are ye?”
“No.”
“Then we ain’t cursed. If ye’d had lost your coin, we’d be cursed and we wouldn’t be standing so still right now would we?”
“Suppose you’re right on that one.”
“Aye. And if we ain’t cursed, we hadn’t lost yer coin. And if we are cursed, she already came and did her cursing when she took away our mast and our compass and our map. Keep looking.”
“But what if she took it back Enzo? The Ocean?”
“Then we ain’t cursed.”
“If we ain’t cursed, she must be here somewhere.”
“Or like ye said, she took it back.”
Immanuel went over to Enzo’s side of the room and flipped over his bed.
“Careful with her! It’s all good in well you tearing up your nest, but don’t go tearing up mine.”
“But what if she’s in there, Enzo?”
“She’s not!”
“But she is! I can feel her Enzo! I can feel it!”
“You dumb lunatic! You gone mad!”
Immanuel picked up the mattress from the frame, and a loud thump hit the ground and rolled towards Enzo, a gold coin. Immanuel’s eyes followed it as it rolled, hit Enzo’s foot, then fell over and danced until it stoped singing.
“Me coin.”
“That’s the devil’s quarter! Get it away from me!” Enzo jumped up. “I threw her! I threw her out into the Ocean! I saw it sink with me own eyes I did! I don’t want this black magic near me or my ship!”
Immanuel walked over to the coin and picked it up. He held it close to his eye. He rubbed his fingers over the surface, feeling the imprints on his skin. He looked at the swords and the beard and the worn-out lettering.
“You stole her.”
“I did no such thing! I threw her overboard! ’Twas the devil that put her in me sheets!”
“It was you who’d done it.”
“I didn’t have yer coin!”
“You said ye did. Said ye had it last night.”
“Aye, but I threw her —.”
“And it went into the ocean, and crawled its way back into your bunker?”
“Aye.”
“You think I’m a damn fool.”
“No!”
“Aye, ya do.”
Immanuel put the coin back in his breast pocket.
“I ought to break you into two bits and throw ya to the sharks. If I can’t trust me own business partner, me own brother, then who can I trust?”
“Immanuel, please. You don’t mean that.” Enzo coughed.
“Aye, but I do.”
Immanuel’s boots fell heavy towards Enzo.
“I need me some good air.”
Enzo walked up the stairs. Immanuel’s boots stomp behind him. He walked faster. His chest tightened. It was hard to catch his breath. Before he could reach the door he was in a coughing fit. His lungs thumped, unable to relax. Up the stairs he went, and the boots got nearer.
“Enzo?”
He tried reaching for the door handle, but his lungs caught fire. He couldn’t breathe. There was a hand on his shoulder. Immanuel yanked him down the stairs. Once, twice, almost three times he flipped over, rolling, hitting his forehead, knee, foot, chin, nose, and wrist on the way down. Immanuel stood at the top by the door and watched Enzo struggle for air. There was blood on the bottom step and around Enzo’s head. Enzo coughed then closed his eyes.
Enzo woke to a headache and a throbbing behind his ear. He had forgotten where he was until he saw the cotton on the ground. Most of the blood had dried up. Enzo used some of the spilt bedding to dry up his wound. Everything in him hurt. His lungs, his stomach, his brain. He was thirsty. Standing up reminded him that his lower back hurt too. He stumbled to the table and picked up a pitcher. There was a little water swishing around in the bottom. He took a drink. It was acid to his throat. Salt. They collected rainwater in buckets, but this one must have been used to scoop out all the excess water from the storm. Enzo looked in every other container and every other container was empty. He licked his shirt, but his shirt was salty too.
He pulled the door handle, but it pulled back.
“You bloody cunt! Open this door!”
Enzo stuck his eye through the peephole. He couldn’t tell if it was nightfall, or if Immanuel put something over to cover the light. Either way he was locked inside. He sat at the top of the steps and looked down at the Immanuel’s torn mattress. No, it wasn’t Immanuel, Enzo thought. It was the gold. It was the gold that made Immanuel crazy, irrational, evil. Enzo only wanted his brother back. Immanuelcito wouldn’t have locked him in here. Immanuelcito would have offered him a drink of water. I want me brother back.
They were happiest when they were equals. Happiest when they had just begun their journey. When all they had was nothing. Aye, that’s what we needs. We don’t need nothing.
Enzo grit his teeth with every descent. Pins poked at his feet and legs, but Enzo was determined to have his partner back. He made it downstairs. He could feel blood trickle down his neck and down his back. He could handle the pain. What he couldn’t handle was to see his brother tortured. In the corner, a tiny flame shined in a pool of wax. Enzo took the cotton, which was now red and black, from his hair. He lit it it. It burned in his hand. Enzo threw it onto the remains of Immanuel’s mattress. Enzo watched as that little ball of light spread into a field of fire. Then, it spread across the floor and started up the walls. Black clouds puffed in the room and blocked sight and air.
“Immanuel!” Enzo coughed. “Open the cellar!”
Smoke escaped through the cracks of the cellar door. Immanuel rushed over to undue the knot that held the door closed. It was too tight. He tried kicking the door down, but he wasn’t strong enough. He could feel the heat under his boots. Flames sprouted up the deck like summertime weeds. Immanuel ran to the stern for an axe or something heavy. The flames followed. Orange gatekeepers trapped him where he was. He cannonballed into ocean. Unable to fight the tide, the waves knocked him closer to the burning vessel. Bits of fiery ash parachuted from the sky.
Immanuel watched as their business investment burned. A stray plank floated nearby. With what strength he had left, he hoisted himself on top of the lumber. Immanuel waited nearby until the flames died out. Several hours past. Night fell. He waited to find Enzo splashing in the waters. He thought about what he’d say. “I hoped ye a better swimmer than a business partner.” He’d say while extending a hand. “Looks like yer neither.”
Those words were left unsaid.
The remains of their ship sunk into the sea. Strips of wood floated to the surface while some flames refused to go out. Immanuel paddled through the live coals. He hoped to see Enzo there, asleep, or passed out on his own piece of plywood. He was not. Out in the distance he saw a green arch. Land, he thought. Immanuel wept. The tears burned as they rolled down his cheeks. With one arm, he paddled towards the beaches.
Amidst the dark blue waters, the ash, and the charred timber, something shimmered. It was shiny. It was gold. Immanuel checked his breast pocket. It was empty. He sat there. It be yer fault me brother’s dead, Immanuel thought. Aye. Me brother ain’t ever coming back ‘cause of you. But perhaps I can take what’s given me. Immanuel sucked in as much as his old lungs would permit and dropped into the water. He kicked and fluttered. The coin fell further and further out of sight. Pulling and thrashing, Immanuel closed in. There it was, God’s gift from the ocean—his gold coin. He reached. The coin flipped and sank further. His chest burned. He punched and lunged. He moved nowhere. He kept pulling and kicking, but the coin kept shrinking and shrinking and disappeared. His lungs took on water. He climbed back up. His flank buoyed above him. His stomach was full. The moon glimmered. He felt it all at once. The pain. The water. He paused. Then dropped, joining his brother and gold at the bottom of the Ocean, forever.
