Deep Blue - One and One

DEEP BLUE -- ONE AND ONE
A SHORT STORY BY MICHAELA CATALANO

There was a flood, a world of water
The mason's wife swam for her daughter.
- Swan Lake, All Fires

"So this is how it all ends," he said. He was standing by the open window, looking down at the sea below. Slow waves broke against the first floor's walls.

"I guess," she said. "You know, when I was a kid, I dreamed about this. Not like prophetically, I mean like a fantasy."

"You wanted this to happen?"

"Hey, you don't have to say it like that. Everybody has dreams. Some are just darker than others. It seemed like such a beautiful way to go."

"It is, at that," he agreed. "We're going to lose this floor soon, too. Then it's only one more before the roof."

"What do you think? Two more weeks?"

"If that. Things have calmed down a bit, though... Maybe you're right. Two weeks. Less if there's a storm."

"Well," she said, rolling her eyes. "No shit. What are we going to do for food?"

"We'll keep on fishing," he said.

"And that's worked out great so far, huh? What, two fish a day, if we're lucky? You're not a fisherman. I never liked fishing."

"Too bad. We'll have to figure it out."

They stood like that for a long while. Gulls called, circled under the sun. The only clouds were white, harmless. A cool breeze. He scratched at his neck, stretched once. She watched him, idle.

"The last man I'll ever be in a room with," she said.

"Looks that way."

"The last two weeks of the Earth we knew. Just two of us, alone, surrounded by apocalyptic natural beauty."

"Mmyep."

"And you're sure you're gay?"

"Pretty damned sure."

"God damn it," she said. He laughed, she scowled, sat back in a chair close at hand and shut her eyes.

The next day they pulled two chairs up close to the window, opened it wide and set their lines. Hours passed and mostly they spoke. There were bites, but not many. In the end they caught one small fish before dusk fell and hunger became an issue.

"I can't believe you don't know what kind of fish this is," she said.

"Me? What about you? Why should I know what the hell it is?"

"You're a man. Men are supposed to know all about fish and cars and all that shit."

He laughed. "Sorry I don't fit your image of a man. I guess this must be a hell of a letdown for you."

"You don't say."

They cooked the fish over a small flame, carefully stoked. Whole it would not have sufficed as a meal for one, but they split it anyway, and ate.

"What about you? Aren't you... lonely, I guess?"

"Should I be?"

"You're a man. You're supposed to be the one who can't live without sex every five minutes, not me."

"Well, thanks for not stereotyping."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, we've established that. We're crystal clear on that."

"So why?"

He sighed and rubbed at his right temple. "Why? I don't know. I just don't really give a shit. I never did. Sex is just masturbation with the added awkwardness of someone watching."

"Bullshit," she said. "Maybe if it's a one-night stand. You can't tell me you never had a boyfriend you loved enough to want to fuck."

"I can tell you that and I will," he said, but there was a hesitant quality to the words.

The next day they were not really hungry, only tired. She went to the window first, then called him over.

"Damn," he said. The water had nearly reached the window, and small sprays kicked up by the larger swells had begun to dampen the carpet. "That's happening an awful lot faster than I thought."

"I guess we should move up now. It's going to be pouring in within a few hours, I'll bet."

They moved up, and before long could see water spreading below the first step of the stairs. They were still not hungry, but he insisted on setting their lines again.

"It's not like we have anything better to do," he said.

"It's not like it matters in the long run," she said, but really she agreed. They were lucky and caught four fish. They ate well.

"So what did you want to be when you grew up?", he asked.

"All kinds of shit. I wanted to be an astronaut and a princess and a cowboy."

"Wouldn't that be a cowgirl?"

"I was a kid," she said. "I didn't think it through that far."

"Mm-hmm."

"What about you? What did you want to be? A fireman, a scientist, a cop?"

"Not really," he said, "I never really wanted to be anything at all."

"Well, what did you become in the end, then?"

"My parents wanted me to go to med school. I probably would have been a doctor. But they threw me out when I was seventeen. After that, I just worked whatever job I could get. A couple years back I got a decent gig doing tech support."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she said.

"What did you become?"

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all." Suddenly she seemed very tired, and he decided not to press the question.

In the morning they woke with wet clothes and water pooling about them. The stairs had flooded already. They moved to the roof.

"This is the last day," she said. "It has to be. It's rising faster. We might only have a few hours left."

"Better make every second count, then," he said, and so they sat there in the sun, taking in the ocean breeze. There were other buildings rising out of the water far off in the distance, but few higher, and those higher only by a couple of floors. A few hours passed and the sky began to darken.

"I wonder how many of them deserved it," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Everyone who's died. How many had it coming?"

"A lot," he said. "I'd say at least half."

"More like three quarters. Except kids. Kids never deserve to die."

"Come on," he said. "Plenty of kids are real pieces of shit. There are some elementary school kids who were bullied into suicide. You think the kids who did that to them don't deserve to die?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe they did. But they have room to grow. They could learn."

"And adults can't? So what, once you hit eighteen, you're just fucked?"

"Pretty much," she said, but she smiled.

At that instant, rain began to fall. They sat nonetheless, talking. He wanted to get something to cover up with.

"Jesus, no," she said. "This is probably the last time you'll ever feel rain on your face. You'd give that up for what? Warmth?"

"Yes," he said, popping open an umbrella. She shook her head. Soon the water had filled the last stairwell. It covered the roof, and in the gloom they no longer knew where the edges of the building were. There was nothing except the sea and the wind and the rain.

And two people, together but still alone.