Amanda Filipacchi - Love Creeps

“It’s true! You can rent it, if you survive,” said Roland.

Lynn said to Alan, “Don’t you wish you were in a movie — an American one — so you wouldn’t have to die in the ocean, and Roland would get punished for what a jerk he is?”

When Roland woke from his nap, they all began fantasizing about the things they’d do with their lives if they got rescued.

“I want to meet new people, eat succulent foods,” said Lynn. “I want to indulge in all sorts of physical pleasures. Each second of every day is an opportunity to indulge in something incredible.”

“Sounds like you’re definitely over your desire problem,” said Roland.

“Of course. I was over that ages ago.”

“If I live through this, I’m getting more pets,” said Alan.

“Pets? What kinds? More rats?” asked Ray.

“I don’t know. But I wanna lotta pets.”

“But why?”

“For the warmth and the love, I guess.” After a moment, he said, “God, I need my hat back, my head is burning. It’s someone else’s turn.”

Roland was looking away, as if lost in thought, even though he knew it was his turn to give Lynn his hat. When he heard no sound, he glanced at Ray, who was looking at him with an urging expression.

“I have black hair,” said Roland.

Sneering slightly at Roland, Ray gave Lynn his hat.

Sneering slightly at Roland as well, she said, “Thanks, Ray.”

Alan scooped water in his hat and put his hat on his head. “Ahhh,” he said with pleasure, as the water cascaded down his face.

“If I pull through this,” Ray said, “I want to see more movies, make more money, and be dry. Maybe take a vacation in a really, really dry place. Dry and shady. Maybe a desert, under a tent.”

They waited for Roland to volunteer his desires. He didn’t.

“What about you?” Ray asked him. “Is there anything you’re dying to do if you survive this?”

“Interesting word choice,” Roland said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m dying to get a refill,” Roland said.

“A refill?” said Ray. “Of what?”

“Something I used to have.”

“Which was?” Alan asked.

“Oh, something that used to make me feel powerful, unique,” Roland said.

“A drug?” Lynn asked.

“Sort of.”

“Which one?”

“It’s personal,” Roland said.

“What effect did it have?” Lynn asked.

“It could create a state, the prospect of which was pleasant.”

“The prospect of which? But not the actuality?” said Lynn.

“Well, who knows about the actuality,” Roland said.

“What?” said Alan. “Then what are you talking about? I don’t get it.”

Roland shrugged, didn’t answer.

“But you would take it now, if you had it with you?” asked Lynn.

“Maybe,” Roland said. “Or I might wait till things got a little worse.”

“How much worse do things have to get before you’d seek comfort?”

“Having the option to take it would be a huge comfort. But taking it introduces you to a new way of being that you can’t really recover from.”

“It damages you?” asked Lynn.

“I’m not interested in this line of questioning,” Roland said. “All I know is that I was a fool not to get a refill. This whole ridiculous situation would be so much easier to bear if I had the refill with me right now.”

“Thank God at least we have each other,” said Alan. “Can you imagine how much worse things would be if we were each alone in this ocean? I mean, on top of not having the refill? We wouldn’t have these amazing conversations to pass the time.”

“Is that supposed to be a sarcastic, yet deep, thought, Alan?” asked Roland.

“Maybe.”

To everyone’s surprise, Roland took out of his shorts pocket a pack of tuna fish. As soon as they understood that he had no intention of sharing, they said his tuna would attract sharks, and they quickly unclipped themselves from the circle of terry-cloth belts and swam away from him in a healthy fashion. Roland gobbled down his tuna, and rejoined them, holding the limp circle out to them, urging them to clip themselves back to it. He preferred enduring their insults to being alone in the ocean.

Lynn lost consciousness first, or fell asleep, after they had been in the ocean a day and five hours. Roland suggested spitting in her mouth, to hydrate her. But they ended up not doing it, because they had never heard of such a thing.

She regained consciousness forty-five minutes later, just in time to hear Ray rant and rave about the stupidity of having jumped in the ocean. He was cursing himself for having thought of the idea and cursing them for having been persuaded.

“You guys are so malleable, I swear!” he said. “How could you have followed the advice of a homeless person? You guys are insane! Now we’re all going to die because of it.”

Lynn lost consciousness again two hours later. And when she regained it, she was the first to notice a boat the others hadn’t yet seen.

They began waving wildly, but the boat had already spotted them and was coming for them. It stopped a short distance away. The motor was switched off. Six people were standing at the railing, staring down at them. They looked welcoming.

“Do you need help?” a distinguished-looking older man shouted at them.

“Yes, very much so,” Ray shouted back hoarsely.

“Well, come on board,” the man said, waving them to the back of the boat.

With eager exhaustion, the four survivors swam the length of the one-hundred-foot yacht, toward the back, where the distinguished man was lowering a ladder.

As they climbed, the name of the boat, written in giant letters, loomed before them: Eyeball .

The moment Ray’s toe exited the water, his mood changed, his spirits soared. He and his nuts had done it! The experience had been invaluable! They would now reap the benefits.

“Sit back and enjoy,” he told Lynn, Alan, and Roland as they climbed out after him. “Relish the magic. Few moments in your life will ever be as wonderful as this. Try to imprint it on your memory. Notice the ecstasy you’re experiencing right now. Savor every nuance of it.”

“You’re not acting very dehydrated,” remarked Lynn, who was barely able to stand.

They were given water and dropped off in Nassau. A cab took them over the bridge to their hotel on Paradise Island. They showered and put on dry clothes.

They each, in his or her own room, ordered room service. Lynn remembered a picture book, from her childhood, that said you weren’t supposed to gorge yourself when you hadn’t eaten in two days or you could get sick. Lynn ordered pasta and a shrimp-stuffed avocado. Alan ordered two cheeseburgers; Roland a steak, wine, cheese, and a chocolate mousse; and Ray ordered conch chowder, pasta, and a disgusting pineapple soufflé.

Lynn would have preferred not to be alone at that moment, but being alone was better than being with them. She’d have been happy with a good friend near her, like Patricia.

Alan was thinking about little other than his bodily needs. He wanted to eat and sleep as soon as possible.

Roland felt disgusted with himself for having gone along with these freaks. He felt embarrassed.

Lynn, Alan, and Roland all felt the same way about one thing. They were thinking, Never toy with life. Never take life for granted and squander it . As they heard the things they were telling themselves, they realized that it had worked. This new attitude was exactly the one they had been hoping to acquire.

After eating, they each put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on their doors and slept.

For a while their existence was diminished and enhanced at the same time. The smallest elements of everyday life seemed heavenly compared to floating in the ocean. They were so appreciative of the slightest things, that they settled for small things. At home they each sat in bed, and the mere feel of the sheets against their skin (in Alan’s case, the rat’s fur against his cheek) was bliss. They felt they could live like this for fifty years and be perfectly content, need nothing else out of life. They slept a lot. And they enjoyed walking. Walking on the hard ground was practically orgasmic.