It says,GET MAGIC.
I can’t keep waiting for Tobin to give me the roles he’s gotten comfortable taking, probably without noticing how lopsided our marriage has become.
I have to take the lead. Tell him what I need, and make sure I get it.
It’s terrifying. And it’s my only choice.
“You know what? You’re right,” I say, stowing the phone in my pantaloons. For the last half hour, I haven’t been able to forget we’re two non-pirates on a rainforest trail. The most wavelike things I’ve seen are breakers of moss foaming across the pale gray rocks. Those tall straight things all around us have never transformed from lodgepole pines into the mainmast and the… I don’t know, the other masts.
Now I only see the helm as I storm up to it. “You’re absolutely right,” I repeat.
“I am?”
With one hand, I grab the wildly spinning wheel. I have to stretch an undignified distance to swipe his mask, but I manage. I doff my hat and pull the black cloth down my nose. Too loose, it droops over my chin.
Magic fits me poorly. But I’ll make it fit better.
“Hold this,” I instruct Tobin, nodding at the wheel. Surprised, he takes it. “Don’t get used to it. That’s my helm.”
I spit out the bandanna and remake the knot while adjustingmy mouth into a crooked smirking scowl, one side up, one side down.
“Like you said, this is a pirate ship. But you’re not the captain.Iam.”
A shiver vibrates through his silver-buckled boots, up the sinews of his legs, all the way to his chest. Maybe to his heart.
“You can be captain next time.”
I scoff. “Who says I can’t be captain every time?”
His face is a mirror for an internal struggle so mighty I can’t help but laugh.
“Fine,” he grits out. “I can be first mate.”
“Don’t need one!” I sing. “You can swab the decks.”
“The decks don’t need swabbing. I want to help you.”
I outright giggle. “If you’re bored, sailor, why don’t you ask me about my adventures? Hold on, we’re tacking around another swamp fire!”
We’re deep in the improv red zone, fighting for our separate versions of what should happen. Too bad this scenario is falling apart; it’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun. I spin the wheel merrily, wracking my brain for a sea shanty whose words I know at least 50 percent of.
“I can navigate.” He strides to the gunwale, one hand shading his eyes.
Giving up on the words, I whistle a jolly pirate tune and slap at the beasts biting my neck.
“Alligator! Must be thirty feet long!” Tobin shouts, pointing.
“Hard to starboard,” I holler. Ha. He’s playingmygame now.
He staggers with a deep impact, sending me an evil glance. “It rammed us, Captain!”
Oh, that jerk. This whole time, he was scheming. No one wins a game this vindictive, but this ship left port a long time ago.
“We’re taking on water! Deckhand! To the pumps!” I point to amud puddle. “You can do it, put your back into it,” I call after him, whistling the bass line from Ice Cube’s iconic contribution to theSave the Last Dancesoundtrack. Classic.
“You have to help bail.” He scoops water from the deck. He has to bend and flex a lot. The neckline of that black shirt is all over the place.
“It’s no use. Save yourself. I’ll see you in Davy Jones’s locker.” I salute, prepared to go down with my ship.