22Back on Cornelius’s boat, I unpack my things into their new homes.
‘A man,’ I say quietly to myself. ‘We’re a couple now.’ The word ‘couple’ catches in my mouth. We have to look out for each other. I arrange my oils and creams on the small shelf above the toothpaste-splattered sink in the toilet. His possessiveness is endearing and flattering now, but the novelty won’t last. I glance in the mirror. I don’t trust this romantic fantasy.
I carefully fold my T-shirts in the corner of a poky cupboard, up against the fibreglass hull. What happens when the ordinary wakes me up in a drifting boat and I turn to a man I don’t want to know? I fold my sarongs and undies on top of the T-shirts. I think of all the stances I’ve taken – too busy, over-excited, anxious, passionate, fearful, angry – all
