The Stranger in the Lifeboat

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some way responsible for that attack? What kind of God would do that?
Jean Philippe collected what was left of our supplies. We’d lost the
binoculars, the sunglasses, and, worst of all, some of the food. The sea
anchors are gone. The sharks cut a hole in the lower tubing, so the raft tilts
downward and water splashes in repeatedly. One of us must constantly bail it
out. Geri is trying to figure how to patch the hole closed, but it may mean
going beneath the boat, and nobody wants to do that after what just happened.
“From now on, if those sharks get close, we’ve got to use these,” Geri said,
holding up one of the paddles. “You bang them on the snout. Hard.”
“Won’t that make them mad?” Yannis asked.
“Sharks don’t get mad. They only attack when they smell or sense—”
“Stop this! Stop it!” Nina yelled. “We have to say something about Mrs.
Laghari! We can’t talk about what happens next without saying goodbye to
her! What’s the matter with us?”
Everyone went quiet. The truth is, none of us knew Mrs. Laghari well. We
don’t know anyone well. I was aware from our conversations on the Galaxy
that she had come from India and had two children and that her work
involved cosmetics.
“I liked her,” I finally said, for no particular reason. Then the others said
they liked her, too. Yannis imitated her accent, and a few of us chuckled. It
didn’t seem right, laughing, but it felt better than weeping. Maybe laughter
after someone dies is the way we tell ourselves that they are still alive in
some way. Or that we are.
“Tell us that she’s someplace better,” Nina pleaded, looking at the
stranger.
“She is,” he said.
Geri scratched her hair. She glanced at Nevin, whose head was bobbing up
and down, like someone fighting sleep.
“Nevin? You want to add anything?”
Nevin blinked hard. “What? … Oh … yes … She was lovely.” He sighed
and rubbed his wounded thigh. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not much use.”
Nevin’s injuries have grown concerning. His ankle is bent at a horrific
angle, the result of tripping over a locker on the Galaxy deck. The wound on
his thigh, which he slashed open on that locker, is bad and not closing. Over
the days, it’s turned dark red, and we have noticed a foul odor. Geri believes
there may be a small piece of metal lodged inside, causing an infection. If so,
there is nothing we can do. Not about him. Not about Mrs. Laghari. Not