* * * *
Barely up on the beach, unable to support my weight on shaky arms and knocking knees a second longer after the long, grueling swim, I collapsed in a heap.
“I knew you’d save me, Shawn! I’m alive! I’m alive!” If ever a situation called for repetition, this was it. “This time, you’re the good guy,” I said. “The hero.”
“I don’t feel like a hero, Otto.”
“What are you talking about?” Breathing was easier once I rolled to my back. “You saved my life!” I exclaimed toward the blinding sun. “Hold me, Shawn.”
His arms didn’t come.
“Shawn?” I rolled to my left. To my right. I sat up. Shawn was nowhere in sight. Neither was his parachute or the plane. It was just me, just me and the ocean, and maybe a whole set of steak knife faced fish ready to slice into me like I had the T-bone at my wedding reception.
“You’re not here.” The realization was devastating. “Are you? You never were.” I wondered if I’d been touched by an angel, rescued by one.