Perseids

The sky is gray.

Isla can see it through the cracks in the hatch doors. She watches from across the sailboat’s cabin, curled on the blue vinyl bench cushion, brown eyes peeking over a striped wool blanket that was once her father’s. It’s midmorning. 

The heavy mist is not a storm, but the sail billows and cracks in rhythmic strikes all the same. 

Pike gazes at her from the far wall of the cabin, his back arched in annoyance. He meows, loudly, and paces the space’s restricted interior yet again before planting himself next to the hatch doors. Isla has already apologized, and promised some milk when she can manage to pull herself upright, but for now her gaze goes through Pike to the gray sky, and rests on the thoughts in her mind. 

She is somewhere else for a moment, looking at an empty university-owned apartment and the chipped paint spots on the walls where a collage of colorful photos once looked back at her. Now the walls are beige, and the carpet holds what’s left of the rubble. Some tiny bits of paper, a sprinkle of dirt next to the window, and a twisted blue paper clip clinging to her shoe. She watches herself close the door again for the last time, the lock clicking shut, and give back the key to her home. She has been wandering ever since. 

The sky is red. 

Isla can see it through the cracks, but this time she leaves her woolen nest and nudges one of the hatch doors open. Pike purrs a thankful vibrato and struts onto the outer rim of the sailboat. The mist is gone, replaced by pink cotton candy wisps that drift in the sky above her. 

Isla sits on the very edge of the bow, watching her toe make circles in the water. She faces away from the cabin, where beneath the deck in a tucked-away pocket of her duffle bag there is a cell phone set to ring in emergency only. The black screen muffles an email that contains her first job offer, but not nearly enough to blanket the feeling in her chest. She packed as quickly as she could after she read it, before her parents had a chance to celebrate. 

Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. She looks at the red sky but can only see the door to an unfamiliar office and the view from the cubicle, gray and white no matter how many flimsy photographs she tacks to the walls. It’s a dream come true. A job offer in her field, entry level, high pay, doing exactly what she hoped for. It is the beginning of the rest of her life. She tried to face it head on, but she ended up here instead. 

When Isla was small, she begged her dad to let her on the boat with him. Please just once. It was his dream first, a small vessel bobbing at the marina that he could visit on quiet weekends. Isla stood with her mother and watched him go, and he would wink at Isla under his faded green fishing hat. I’ll come back, he said. One day the answer changed to yes, and Isla’s whole world expanded as they glided out of the marina. Their very first day on the water they sailed out into the middle of the bay as the sun sank behind the trees. He watched the little girl’s eyes come alight when the sea ignited in shimmering orange watercolor. 

Isla couldn’t stop thinking about the company contract after her eyes scanned the page for the first time—outlined schedule, an hourly rate, a move to a new apartment. She just wanted one last day with the water, but even that is fading. 

The sky is black, 

Except for the white eyes of Perseids raining down on her. Slow in between, but quick as a flash when they come. Isla lays on the bow, Pike curled on her chest. She could float here forever. And what if she did? 

Her father is an accountant. When Isla was a child, she asked him why he liked numbers and he said that they made him feel like everything was in its right place. It made him feel useful. He would rest his leather briefcase by the door every day after work and greet her and her mom with the tightest hugs he could muster. When the weather was right and the weekend came, he would invite Isla to sail with him and watch her eyes fill with the last colors of the day, knowing that the morning would be just as beautiful. It was everything he had ever wished for. 

Isla is small under the weight of the dark sky. A fleck among stars.  

She doesn’t know it yet, but in two weeks she will walk into an office and unpack a box of photos at a cubicle. The woman at the desk next to her will greet her with a smile, and many years later they will have become the closest of friends. On the weekend she and her father will sail, and watch the sun melt into the horizon. It will be everything she has ever wished for. 

But right now—for as long as she can—Isla will remain drifting over the inky water, watching light streak across the sky. 

About the Author

Jewel is a Senior Media and Communications student with a concentration in multimedia publishing and a minor in Creative Writing. Despite being a comm major, she is passionate about exploring all things writing and photography, and tries to incorporate both in her study. In her free time, she enjoys taking walks (preferably ones where she can look at trees), going on adventures with her friends, and spending time with her dog.