Impulse Control (ON HOLD)

Chapter 16

A long, low rumble of thunder overhead startles Cleo and I, and we jump. Looking up, I see that gray storm clouds have accumulated while we were talking. Checking my watch, I see that it's already six-thirty. Mom must be worried.

Rising silently, I take out my cell phone to text her that we're on our way home, but the red 'No Signal' sign flashes over my screen. Next to me, Cleo has the same. Shivering because of the chill wind on my back, I head for the driver's seat. We need to get back to the dock quickly. Being out on the lake during a storm is dangerous.

I give the throttle a mighty shove, and we speed off in the direction of the campground.

***

Fifteen minutes later, lightning begins to flash and the sky turns dark, so dark that I turn on the headlights and taillights. "We need to get off of the lake!" I shout to Cleo over the roar of the wind, the cracks and crashes of lightning, and the roiling booms of the thunder. She comes closer, and shouts, "Yeah!" in agreement.

"Get the life jackets from down below," I instruct her. "Put the life preserver by the back seat and try to find some raincoats!" Cleo opens the compartment and takes out the life preserver, placing it underneath the cockpit seat, near the rope. Then she takes out two life jackets and hands one to me. I lift my hands from the wheel for a split second to slide the orange vest over my chest. Cleo comes around and fastens it so I can focus on driving.

Then she puts on her own life jacket, after concluding that there are no raincoats in the storage compartment.

By now the rain has worsened into a torrential downpour that makes it hard to see more than a few feet in front of you. The wind whips through the trees, making it hard to hear Cleo when she shouts at me. Mentally, I try to figure out where we are and where we're headed. If I remember correctly, there's a little beach just ahead. I give my boat more power, speeding towards where I think the beach is.

"Get the rope!" I shout to Cleo, but my voice is silenced by the wind. I wait for a slight lull in the wind to yell again. "Cleo, get the rope!" I shout over the wind and rain. She doesn't answer, but I feel her reach under the seat for it.

When she comes up, she ties one end of the rope to a cleat, so it'll be ready when we get to the shore. "How are you going to see?" Cleo asks, almost screaming in order to make her voice heard over the roaring storm. "I don't know," I reply, which is true. There are probably flashlights and lanterns on the boat somewhere, but I can guarantee that with all of the lightning and thunder cracking overhead, I won't be able to hold on to either one, and besides that, Cleo and I don't know where to look for them.

There is absolutely zero chance that I'll be able to see, even a little bit, in this mess. I'll probably have to rely on touch to guide me through the docking process. It's actually very easy to dock a boat, but it wasn't meant to be done in pitch blackness with a storm raging.

Our boat's headlights illuminate the approaching shoreline, and I guide it through the water carefully, towards the high sandbar approaching. Cleo moves to stand next to me, and even in the forceful storm I can smell her sweet rosemary scent. A huge gust of wind blows by, rippling my hair and lifting Cleo's, bringing a sharp cedar pine smell with it. 

"Take the wheel, Cleo," I say, grabbing the rope and groping around in the side spaces until I find my water shoes. I cautiously slip them on, feeling the comforting nylon fabric beneath my toes. I sit on the side of the boat, then spin and slide into the water.

The chilliness shocks my system and knocks the breath out of me. "It's cold," I say to Cleo, but she doesn't hear me over the roar of the wind and rain. I take the rope, wrapping it around my wrist so I don't need to worry about dropping it. Then, fingers trailing over the side of the boat, I slowly step forward.

The water is swirling around my knees, and I can feel the liquid seeping into my supposedly waterproof shorts. The splashes I make from walking fly up to wet my hair and t-shirt. Fish nip my ankles, but I'm used to it and don't mind.

Hands still floating over the side of our boat, I take two cautious steps forward. A lightning bolt strikes nearby, illuminating the shore for a split second. I see that there's a huge log just across from the boat, and I decide to use it as a resting object. Quickly I step out of the water, rolling the log in front of the boat.

"Bring her onto this log!" I shout to Cleo. She shoves the throttle, and the boat floats up on top of the log. Next, I find a big boulder that's unlikely to move, and I tie the first rope to it. Then I tie the other rope around a huge tree that's not too far away.

"Come on!" I yell to Cleo. I hear a loud splash as she jumps in. Then the sound of strokes as she swims towards my voice until she can stand.

We go about making a slight nest in the sand, patting down it in the shape of our bodies. I make sure that the "bed" is far away from the trees, so we won't die from lightning strike. Then, we lay down. It's really cold, especially because of the rain, so we'll have to sleep really close to each other.

Cleo curls up, pulling me closer to her body until I'm draped across her. It's a position that's surprisingly comfortable. She hooks an arm around my back, and accidentally sweeps her hair in my face. I smile, inhaling that fresh scent of rosemary. I thought I'd freak out and blush hard from being in such close contact with her, but instead, a quiet, serene calm washes over me like waves in the sea.

The tide is coming in, and soft, gentle waves lap at my feet. The storm is still raging, and it's still raining. The thunder and lightning are still crashing and cracking across the skies. Yet I don't seem to feel a thing. A beautiful, comforting silence and sense of settlement surrounds us, and I feel my worries drifting away, like clouds.

Suddenly, as I'm in that half-asleep-half-awake state, a thought occurs to me. Cleo dropped several hints when she was talking about Bree. She said that Bree was bisexual, but she identified herself and Bree as part of the "defying clan". Does that mean Cleo's not straight?

The idea makes blood rush through my veins, and a tingle of something tickles my spine. I feel my cheeks go pink, and my skin prickles ominously.

Quietly, keeping my voice low so as not to wake her if she's already fallen asleep, I ask, "Cleo, what you said earlier, about you and Bree...Are you part of the LGBT+ community, too?"

An inhale. An exhale. Cleo blows out a big breath, and says, "Yeah. I'm a lesbian."

"Oh," I say. "Well, that's cool. Even though my mom does, I have nothing against gays or lesbians."

Cleo nods, but turns so her face is angled away from mine. I sense something coming off of her: Sadness, anger...disappointment?

This confuses me, but I choose not to dwell on it. Instead, I turn my mind to the exciting prospect of Cleo being a lesbian. It shouldn't matter, I tell myself. Except it does. But in a good way. It excites me, makes my heart race. My pulse is throbbing quickly beneath my tender fingers, and tingles rush up my back. Electricity seems to skitter across my skin, raising goosebumps in it's wake.

It shouldn't matter, I say to myself again.

But it does.

It definitely does.