dream

Sheets of water slapped at him from every direction. The ocean stirred itself into frothy waves that hurled themselves at him. The rain fell in sharp, icy needles that did nothing to clean the salt from his skin, his eyes, his mouth. He coughed, sputtering, the brine of the ocean water clogging his lungs. The ship groaned, an agonized cry as it splintered under the weight and force of the deluge of water from the sea and sky.

 

 “Ma! Da!” Séamus croaked, barely a whisper, his voice scraped raw from the salt in his throat. “Where are you?”

 

There was no answer, and he squinted through the dark, trying to find someone—anyone. He couldn’t find his parents, and he could only desperately hope that they hadn’t been washed from the ship and dragged to the bottom of the sea.

 

The ship lurched, a wave crashing into him and making him slide across the planks of the boat, nearly tossing him overboard. He managed to grab a hold of the ship, clinging desperately to footholds and shredded rope, hoping the rope was still attached to something with an unbroken foundation. He tried to pull himself up and it was chance that the ship listed to the side, taking in water, and allowed him a view of the black waters below. It was just a glimpse, quickly snatched from him as more dark waves crashed down, but he saw—

 

His mother’s pale face, eyes wide, sinking under the weight of her clothes, flailing in the frothy sea—

 

His father, a hand outstretched to her as he tried in vain to reach for her, thrashing through the waters—

 

And then Séamus couldn’t see them anymore.

 

“Ma,” he tried to cry, but it came out a broken whisper.

 

“Da,” he tried again, his voice breaking on the word.

 

“No,” he sobbed when he realized nobody could save either of them, especially him, as helpless as he was.

 

Lightning split the night sky, thunder following in its wake, rattling his bones. The storm was trying to tear him apart. He was alone. There was nobody to help him. He was going to drown. His parents had already drowned. He was powerless to do anything for them, or for himself. He was going to be lost. He was doomed to be forgotten, as were his parents.

 

“You’re okay,” someone told him. “Séamus, love, you’re alright.”

 

The voice was gentle yet firm, and he squinted through the rain, trying to find—he knew that voice, but the name slipped from his grasp, his fear chasing away reason.

 

Lightning lit up the inky black void of the sky once more. Thunder snarled at him, a mocking threat that he would never survive the night, doomed to watch the ship sink and join his parents at the bottom of the ocean. He squeezed his eyes shut, clamping his hands over his ears, trying not to hear, not to see; that this could all be a terrible dream and his parents would be safe and well when he woke up. He listened to the sound of his pulse—ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump—hating himself for being alive as he watched in helpless horror as his parents were swallowed whole by the storm, but also so very terribly relieved that he still had a pulse at all.

 

“Come back to me,” someone whispered, and Séamus knew who it was now, knew that voice—

 

His eyes flashed open and there she was. Radie held his soaked body to her chest, her cheek resting on his drenched hair. He clutched at her, slamming his eyes shut, relieved and horrified and anguished all at once. Ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump, her pulse whispered to her. She was alive, but—

 

“No,” he muttered, his tongue lazy in his mouth, making his words tumble over one another. But he tried to force them out, tried to warn her of the danger. He couldn’t lose her, too. “You can’t be here.”

 

A breeze trickled over his skin, clearing some of the salt water from the air. Radie pulled away from him, a hand moving towards his forehead. A cool rag swiped down the side of his face, cleaning him of the salt water.

 

“You can’t…” he attempted to say again.

 

“Séamus,” Radie said gently, using her free hand to frame his face, leaning in so that their noses were a breath apart. “You need to breathe. Just focus on breathing, love.”

 

But how could she be so calm? How could she be so calm when the ship was tearing itself apart, when the lightning was ripping at the sea, when there was thunder so loud it could shatter bones?

 

There was another gentle breeze. It felt chilly against his damp skin, causing his arms to break out in gooseflesh. But there wasn’t any rain. He pulled away from Radie, putting just enough distance between them that he could glance about. His room. He was in his room at his manor in his bed. His window was open. That was the source of the breeze. There wasn’t a storm. The sky was inky black outside, but clear. No tempest, no rolling clouds. He could even see the moon. There were stars freckling the velvet dark of the cloudless night.

 

His breath caught in his throat as his thoughts struggled to catch up and make sense of everything.

 

Radie’s hand was on his face again, guiding Seamus’ gaze to hers again. “Just breathe, my love. Calm down. You’re safe.”

 

He swallowed, nodding, did as she instructed. She moved next to him so that she could cradle his head in her arms again, letting his temple rest on her chest. Her breasts were soft against his cheek, but that wasn’t the part he was focusing on. Her heartbeat was strong and steady—ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump­—under her sleeping shift, and it lulled Séamus until he stopped trembling, and his mind calmed. Had she held him like this as he dreamed? Had it been her pulse he had heard as he tried to wake himself? The thought soothed him, somehow.

 

After several long moments, he shifted his head until he could plant a kiss on Radie’s exposed collar bone.

 

“Feeling better?” she whispered, a small smile pulling at her lips.

 

No. His parents were still dead. He had thrashed himself off the ship and out of his dreams, but it had not been a nightmare where he woke up to see all was right with the world again. He couldn’t wander down the hall to see the bodies of his dozing parents in their chamber.

 

No, he wasn’t sure he felt better. But he could make do with what he had.

 

In response, he pulled her down with him as he laid flat on his bed, holding her close. She squirmed in his hold until her back was pressed to his chest. Séamus nestled his chin in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling her smell, feeling her pulse flutter against him.

 

“I’m probably sweaty,” he realized aloud.

 

“Oh, you’re very sweaty,” she assured him.

 

Séamus guiltily pulled his arms away but Radie was quick to snatch at his wrist and snake his arm around her again, settling against him.

 

“But I’m sweaty,” he reminded her.

 

“Mmhmm, very sweaty,” Radie repeated, closing her eyes and shushing him. “But shh. Right now, you should hold me.”

 

He could not deny her such a request when it was spoken so plainly. She was his anchor, his buoy, grounding him to reality and pulling him away from the sinking ship that continued to plague him. The least he could do to show his appreciation was allow her the shelter of his arms and hold her close.