SICK HEART by Huss, JA (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

mouth, like maybe she just gasped, and I allow myself a smile as we break the surface and I let her go.

She is coughing and sputtering. But she turns towards me, the shock of the drop replaced by the surprise of the secret reef. She’s not sinking, and her panic is gone, replaced by delight. She smiles at me, frantically wiping at her eyes and trying to catch her breath.

I cock my head at her and then dive back down. She follows me. I swim around to the other side of the platform leg and watch her study a dozen different kinds of coral and aquatic plants that completely cover the steel underneath. Small schools of fish flitter around us, darting this way and that as bigger fish slowly pass by.

Anya reaches out towards a coral, but I grab her hand and pull it back, shaking my head at her. Some of them sting. And I’m not really sure which ones those are, so the general rule is that we don’t touch them.

She looks back at the reef, then up at the surface. I know she can’t hold her breath much longer, but she is reluctant to go back up.

It makes sense though. This silent world is familiar. That’s why I like it. And when I first discovered that the rig’s platform had actually created an artificial reef back when I was a kid, I felt like I had been dropped into a book. One of those boys’ adventure books where they survive a plane crash or a sinking ship and end up on a tropical island with secrets.

I found my island’s secret.

Finally, there is no way she can hold her breath any longer and she shoots up to the surface. I follow, and emerge just a moment later.

And then we just float there. Two inconsequential people immersed in a whole planet of water. I try not to see myself like that when I’m out here. I try not to picture this platform from space, a speck surrounded by the massive weight of the ocean. And then me, just dust, really, in the grand scheme of things. Because when I see this world for what it really is, that thought evokes a sense of overwhelming… smallness.

Our problems are so small from the perspective of the universe. But to us, they are often overwhelming.

I try to keep it all in perspective, but it’s hard when you’re surrounded by evil people who want to torture you for fun. Make you fight and kill for money, and ships, and women.

Anya puts her face in the water and just floats like that. Belly down, arms out, body undulating with the rhythm of the ocean. Like she’s snorkeling without equipment. Every now and then she tilts her head to the side for a breath, and then she resumes her study of the reef.

I roll over and lie on my back, floating with her, my fingers twisted up in her t-shirt so she can’t float away, my eye on the beams above, keeping it in perspective. It would be a mistake to assume that we are anchored to this platform just because we’re underneath it. It would be very easy to float away. Too easy, actually, to float so far there is no chance of getting back. Even a very strong swimmer might not be able to fight the will of the ocean’s path around a rotating earth.

But we don’t float far. We just bob with the waves. Up and down. I let her gaze down, but I don’t let her dive alone. No one dives alone out here. Ever. Not even me. That’s why we keep a stash of food out here. Because fishing by myself is a risk Maart won’t let me take.

Soon though. Soon, Anya and I will run out of protein and we will have to fish this reef. It’s gonna suck, but it’s at least ten days away, so I push that thought aside when she turns over on her back and floats face up with me, her fingers twisted up in the loose fabric of my shorts, mine still holding fast to her t-shirt.

And it’s nice, I think. To float with her. To be with her. Just two people gazing up at a low, hot sun.

I turn my head and look at her. She’s got her eyes closed. But her skin is getting cold and she’s starting to shiver. So I grab her hand and we call it a day.

We have to climb a slimy ladder to get back up to the long, metal landing. I make her go first, just in case she slips. Also so I can look at her ass through the thin, wet fabric of her shorts, but mostly to keep her safe. She’s sustained enough injuries over the past week.

We both have. It’s time to settle into this now.

Once on the landing she begins to shiver for real, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to keep warm. The sun is on the other side of the rig, so we’re in the shade and there’s no hope of getting warm down here. But once we climb all the way up to the helipad, the heat of the sun is a relief.

She stands in the middle, face tipped towards the final rays of the day.

But I grab her hand and lead her over to a ladder on the side of the mechanical building. This one is not coated with algae, but the paint is pitted and flaking from decades of salt water and sun.

Once we’re on top of the roof the wind is free to whip past us, blowing her t-shirt up like a balloon and making her scramble to keep it from flipping up. I shrug when she looks at me, embarrassed after partially flashing me her tits, and she sucks in a deep breath and points her face back at the sun.

I do the same, closing my eyes and opening my arms wide,