Amanda Filipacchi - Love Creeps

Lynn considered this for a moment and agreed to move up the date of their semisuicide.

“Does the date suit everyone’s schedule now?” Ray asked.

Alan nodded, and Roland said, “I have no schedule.”

“What do you mean?” Ray asked.

“I’m free all the time.”

“Within reason, no?”

“No, all the time. I got fired.”

The days passed, and the four nuts quietly went about their lives with the calm awareness of a day that was approaching, and of the act that would take place on that day. They did not even think of it as an act so much as a sort of gesture. They rarely spoke of it to each other anymore, and when they did, it was always obliquely.

Before taking the plane, Alan left the same suicide note in his apartment that he had written before. He told his doorman he was going away for a couple of days and asked him to go into his apartment if he hadn’t returned in a week, to give his “gerbil” more food. The suicide note would be next to the cage, so the doorman would understand what had happened.

Alan kissed Pancake, held him against his heart, and said good-bye.

Lynn told Patricia she was going on vacation for a few days. Patricia said, “The Harlem Globetrotters just rejected your application for a tryout. That should sustain you and keep you sane while you’re gone.”

The three nuts and the bum packed their bags and boarded a plane for the Bahamas at 8:00 A.M. They checked into Hotel Atlantis on Paradise Island. They sat on lounge chairs by one of the pools, staring tensely at the fake waterfalls and at all those people who were not going to jump off a boat the next day to make their lives happier, fuller, and more valuable.

They went to dinner at one of the restaurants in the hotel. They ordered a bottle of wine. The waitress asked Alan for some ID.

“I lost my driver’s license a long time ago, and I left my passport in my room. I’ll have a Coke,” Alan said.

“He’s thirty-five, you know,” Roland said to the waitress. “And looks older, in my opinion.”

As Alan sipped his Coke, he said to the others, “We are quite young, you know.”

“Yeah? So?” Roland said.

“So nothing,” Alan said.

During the meal, the four friends passed the salt and pepper while Ray made a few attempts at a conversation, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he soon gave up. He couldn’t get himself to ask them if they were still okay with the plan, since he himself did not feel completely at ease with it.

After dinner, they went back to the pool and sat on the same lounge chairs, side by side, in the dark, alone. It took a long time for one of them finally to speak.

It was Ray. “I thought eleven o’clock might be a good time. That leaves us with many hours of daylight during which we might be more likely to get rescued.”

Alan said, “It’s strange. It’s kind of like committing suicide in reverse, or something.”

“It’s true,” Roland said. “It’s almost like suicide, but instead of being performed out of hatred of life, it’s out of love of life, out of wanting to recapture it. It’s a sacrifice for life.”

The next day, out at sea, all in the same boat, wearing bulky red life vests and little white hats, they stared at the land that was now only slightly visible, extremely far away. They had no excuses. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been — and weren’t still — searching for excuses. But there were none: The ocean was not rough; the air was not cold, nor the water; there were no jellyfish in sight; there were a few pleasant clouds to protect them from sunstroke.

Roland dropped a penny in the boat.

When the time came, Ray slightly increased the speed of the small motorboat they had rented for the day. The four of them climbed on the side of it, held hands, and jumped off.

They watched their empty boat speeding away, wondering if it would keep going, hoping it would not, but it did — there was no reason it wouldn’t. And then they glanced around to see if they could see any rescue boats, but they couldn’t.

“Well, here we are,” Alan said, once they had settled into the water and found comfortable positions amongst each other.

“This was a mistake,” Lynn said, after five minutes. “If we live through this, you really think we’ll appreciate life more?”

“It’s too late to ask that question,” Ray said.

“I think it would be tragic to die in these beautiful, sunny surroundings,” Lynn said. “Death, if you’re going to die, deserves to have a certain amount of drama and importance, but this death would not be dramatic.”

“It was your idea to do it this way,” Roland said. “If we die, it’ll be a beautiful death, and if we live, it’ll be a beautiful life.”

Alan started laughing. Then he realized he was also crying. The others waited, alarmed, to see how it would develop.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked.

“You know what’s ironic?” Alan slapped the water a little.

“What?” Lynn asked.

“We’re all, still, in the same boat.”

Roland sighed, but the others smiled, to be nice, and said, “That’s funny, Alan.”

Lynn added, “The point was not really to be in different boats, but to be … in a better boat. Right?”

Alan calmed down.

In order not to get accidentally separated from each other, they had devised a system. They had brought the belts of their hotel bathrobes, tied end to end, forming a complete circle. They had each worn a regular leather belt and each brought a rock climbing clip, so that they could attach themselves, by the waist, to the circle.

After two hours in the ocean, Lynn, Alan, and Roland realized how nuts they were. They congratulated Ray on his helpful idea. They couldn’t believe they had put their lives at risk, that they were bobbing around like corks, when life was so full of exciting and pleasurable things they could be doing.

After two and a half hours, insults started flying and accusations that Ray was a “fucking cult leader.” He said he accepted their anger and that he had made this sacrifice for them.

At one point, he said, “If we don’t get rescued, it’s a terrible death. But even if that happens, we’ll get the pleasure of knowing how great life could have been. We’ll die with that knowledge, which is a very pleasurable thing in itself. It’s a gift.”

Lynn threw water in his face. Alan kicked him under the water.

After six hours, they panicked when they saw a shark swimming around them. Alan, Lynn, and Roland were flapping their limbs, screaming, and Ray was hysterically trying to quiet them down, warning them that their behavior was the most effective way to get the shark to attack. They froze, which, according to Ray, was not much better in avoiding an attack. He told them they had to move in a calm, confident, healthy way.

“Move in a healthy way? What the hell does that mean?” Alan hissed.

“Now is not the time to analyze,” Roland hissed back. “Just move in a healthy way.”

“Stop bickering,” Ray said. “Bickering will also make the shark want to eat you.”

“Is anyone bleeding?” Roland asked. “Sharks can smell blood from miles away.”

“No, why would anyone be bleeding?” Alan said.

“That thing, there, is a woman,” Roland said, pointing to Lynn. “Those things bleed from time to time. Are you bleeding?”

“I think I am,” said Lynn, who knew she was not. “Why else would the shark have come? Others will probably come, too.”

The shark seemed to go away. It was hard to be sure about things of that sort.

They were thirsty. Alan wanted to drink the seawater. Ray told him not to, that he’d be the first to die if he drank the seawater.