Page 6 of If I Go Down with This Ship

She snorts and elbows me.“Gross!They didn’t even have good hygiene.”

“Come on!It was a good one.”

She shakes her head.“You’ve always had a terrible sense of humor.”

“You’re one to talk,” I whisper as she moves past me with a pointed look.

She crosses to the desk where George shows her something on the prop map, motioning to the yellowed parchment.I glance around, hands on my hips, as I take in the space.It’s difficult to imagine a bloodthirsty pirate captain residing in this room with all its frivolous fabric, furniture, and books.Perhaps George got it wrong?Decorated the space like they do on-screen?

I open my mouth to say as much, but when I turn around, Louise and George are already gone, disappearing down the stairs to the rest of the ship.

Cursing, I hurry after them.We follow George down a narrow hall and past several closed doors and small compartments to what appears to be the mess.Gently swinging tables are spread out here, anchored to the ceiling to move with the ship and prevent spillage, and farther back are a makeshift kitchen with space for livestock and an infirmary.It looks like the set of a movie, every piece of the replica carefully placed and well crafted.

It’s nothing short of phenomenal.

“So,” Louise whispers excitedly, “what do you think?”

“Okay, I’ll give it to you.This is amazing.”

She claps me on the shoulder.“I thought you’d like it.You just needed to get over your fear of water.”

“Wouldn’t exactly say I’m over it,” I mutter under my breath, stomach lurching even as I think it.

George gestures to us, and we follow him down another hall.I stop at every doorway, peering into corners and rooms.Everything feels so full of magic and stories, and I can almost hear them being whispered to me as we shuffle down the hallway after George.

“A true pirate ship,” I say as he leads us into the cargo hold, where sacks of food and barrels filled with fake grain and water, along with other miscellaneous supplies, are stored.Louise and I have to bend down to fit in here, and I press my hand to the wall, suddenly woozy.It’s all fake—plastic placards have been placed on everything, labeling them for visitors like us.But still, it all feels so real.I shiver as I step to the side to make room for Louise, taking a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim light of the fake torches on either side of the ladder.There’s something eerie about being so far down in the ship.I don’t like it down here, how dark it is, or how the air has turned stale and bitter on my tongue.

George must sense my unease, because he nods for us to follow him with a gentle smile.I scramble after Louise and George, climbing back up through the ship, past barrels and cannons, up ladders, and back through the hall to the main deck.I pause at the base of the last set of stairs, hesitating with my hand on the railing.

“Sorry, can I have one more moment?”I ask, glancing back to the captain’s cabin.“I just want to see it one last time.”

George and Louise exchange a look before George nods.Calling my thanks, I duck back into the cabin, closing the doorbehind me.I look over the space, trailing my fingers across the desk and the scattered props artfully placed around the map as if we’ve walked in on a captain checking his navigational calculations.My fingers dance over paperweights and empty ink bottles, tapping the desk as I read the map upside down.

I bet these pirates were never bored, that their lives never hit a stale moment, unlike mine.I trail across the space lazily, taking long, languid strides, soaking it all in before I stop in front of a small door.Opening it, I peek in, reaching out hesitantly to run my hands over a thick wool coat hanging on a hook in the closet.It’s a deep blue, decorated with black thread and large brass buttons, with pockets for days.Peering over my shoulder at the closed door to the cabin, I pull it off the hook and shrug it on.

It is heavy and thick, but it fits me surprisingly well, which is unusual considering my height, but I think nothing of it as I straighten the sleeves.I run my hands over the costume, marveling at the build of the jacket, the tight stitching, the thick wool.

“A proper jacket,” I say quietly, wishing I had a mirror.It’s ridiculous, I know, but I can’t stop myself from spinning in it, from seeing the fabric move around me, relishing the heavy reassurance of it across my shoulders.It feels like my weighted blanket, comforting, warm, sturdy.Hell, I could sleep in it.

My hands tighten on the collar, hesitating.I’m not ready to leave this ship.I’m not ready to say goodbye to it and all the things aboard, to go back to my deadlines and notebooks.I don’t know why I find joy in this place and these things.Why when I look out over my flat and my belongings in what’s supposed to be one of the greatest cities in the world, I feel nothing but suffocation.

I find no joy in trekking across the globe anymore, and though I love writing, how much longer can my career sustain me, continue to fulfill my desire to do something… more?How much longer can it satisfy me when, at the end of the day, I’m just as alone as I was before?

Spinning on my heel, I close my eyes, envisioning what it would be like to be this captain, in this coat, on this ship with a crew.I pull up the collar of the coat and breathe deep, inhaling its scent.It is oddly sweet, a bit of smoke, tobacco, and burnt sugar lingering in the wool.I could wrap myself in the scent and this jacket all day, hide in a dark corner of my flat and never leave.

But I don’t have all day or all week or all month or all year.I have right now.Sighing, I roll back my shoulders as I make to shrug off the jacket.It’s all pretend, just a game; and sooner rather than later, I have to return to my life and find a way to take control of my happiness again.

Because life won’t wait for me.

The ship jerks beneath my feet as I start to take off the jacket, and I stumble forward, catching myself against the wall.“What on earth…?”I trail off, glancing around the cabin.

The ship is swaying.

Swaying.

Are we leaving?Did Louise fail to mentionShe Deceitfulwas going out on the water?As much as I love my sister, she can be incredibly deceptive.Especially if she thinks it’s for my own good.

Panting and panicking, I trip toward the port windows and peer out.Water crashes against the sides of the ship, spraying across the glass.A chill makes me shiver, and I tug the jacket close as I squint against the sun.As I blink spots from myvision, the first thing I see isblue.Not the sky, but thewater.It surrounds us, the soft blue of an ocean.