Induction

I poured myself a cup of coffee while he rattled off his list. When I opened the pantry to look for sugar, I was greeted once again with the overwhelming smell of cleaning products. Seth took organization to a whole new level. Unopened boxes of cereal, arranged by height, lined the top shelf. Canned goods were stacked alphabetically, each label facing out and perfectly aligned. On further inspection, I noticed they were also arranged by date, oldest in the front, newest in the back.

I took a packet of sugar from the shelf, even the individual packets were neatly arranged in rows, and turned the label on a can of corn about a half inch to the left. I heard a little gasp and fought the urge not to laugh. Okay, so I knew I was being a little sadistic, but I couldn’t help myself. There’s just so little to find humor in nowadays, and I was willing to resort to acting like an ass if it meant I could repress the thought of my missing husband, even for a few minutes.

I went back to my coffee cup and stirred it, making sure to leave the empty packet on the counter with a few granules spilling out. Seth had gotten up from his seat, and by the time I turned back to the group the corn was back in place.

I tracked his eyes to the sugar packet and moved to a seat at the table while he made a bee-line to the counter. He unclipped a mini dustpan and brush from his belt that I hadn’t seen yet, and all his focus went into brushing off the sugar and spraying it with 409. By now the entire room had fallen silent, intent on watching the show. Seth produced a dish-rag and began a very intense circular cleaning frenzy. Now it’s worth mentioning that he pulled this one from his pocket, not from his shoulder. How many rags did he have on him? This was all so entertaining; there was no way I was going to skip the grand finale. I saw the coasters, knew it would push him over the edge, and went for it.

“Oopsie,” I let out in a ditzy voice. I placed the cup directly on the table, hard enough to ensure a few drops sloshed over the lip and landed onto the laminate. I looked up at Seth expectantly, knowing this was going to be epic.

“Gah,” he exclaimed in a strangled cry. “Coasters!”

By now we’d all dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. Except for Seth, who was repeating his 409 scrubbing with one hand and waving a coaster at me with the other. Once he completed the process and washed his hands, he sat back down and resumed planning.

“I suggest we keep the pantry foods for emergency and fish as much as possible,” he said. Was that the evil eye? Yep, Seth was definitely fixing me with a murderous glare. Maybe I should sleep with my door locked… and barricaded.

I groaned. I hated fish; I mean I really hated fish. The smell of it made me want to hurl. It was so bad that I even banned it from my house. Jake, who loved seafood when we met, got to eat it only on the special occasions I wasn’t around for. He grew up in an Italian household. They had weird food customs. Certain days of the week were planned out with certain foods. And holidays were a seven-course smorgasbord. The first Christmas after we were married, his family made lobster on Christmas Eve. It was the last time they served seafood around me, considering I spent about thirty minutes vomiting in their pool after I caught a whiff.

I can’t handle puke or any fluids that come out of the mouth or nose. When I hurl, it’s like I’m on a constant repeat cycle until I have nothing left in me. The taste of puke in my mouth caused me to throw up over and over again. It was also the day they drained their pool and scrubbed it clean to get my little gift out. Merry fucking Christmas! I felt bad and shelled out the hundred bucks for a new pool filter.

You would think being so close to graduating with a degree in nursing that I’d have a stronger stomach. Poop, I can handle. Vomit and sputum? All bets are off.

Chapter 19 Gold Nuggets

The next three weeks went by without incident. The group conceded to remaining close to the helicopter in hopes that the lost team would find their way to us. There was no need to leave our safe haven during that time since we had enough supplies. There was a fresh water tank used for bathing, and the toilets emptied into a composting tank. The owner had been kind enough to leave the user’s manual on the boat, and I learned that this particular type of tank was made to empty at sea. Good to know we weren’t breaking any maritime laws.

Adam and Seth had acquired a rowboat and a Jet Ski from nearby vessels. The rowboat made it easy to fish. Since we were dumping our waste into the water around us, we came to the consensus that rowing away was best for fishing. If nothing else, because it grossed us out thinking of what floated around us.