Josh vs. ET
The thirst is overwhelming. It's the first thing she's aware of when she wakes, and she licks her lips sluggishly. Her tongue feels like sandpaper in her dry mouth. Her eyelids feel incredibly heavy, but she forces them open… only to recoil instantly. Damn curtains that didn't close themselves. The sunlight streaks across her bed, tinting the colours in her bedspread.
She turns away from the window and opens her eyes fully. A heavy sigh escapes as she takes in the empty room; he grins back at her from the photograph on her nightstand, the remnants of her dream fading as reality settles in.
"Hey." He reaches up to smooth her hair away from her face, running his knuckles over her soft cheek before lowering his hand. "Sweet dreams?"
She smiles, lowering mischievous eyes to his lips then returning to meet his gaze once more. "The best."
His tongue darts out to casually wet his lips as he pretends to ponder her words. "Was I in them?"
"When aren't you?" She laughs as she pushes him back and settles astride his waist, her fingers caressing his hairless chest.
The sheets beside her are cold to the touch, and there is no sound other than her own breathing; she's alone in the house.
Groaning, she sits up and rubs a palm over her face. It comes away with dark streaks; she's forgotten to take off her makeup before going to bed. And, she realises as she glances down at her attire, she didn't even manage to change into her pajamas.
It's only when she pushes back the covers and swings her legs over the edge of the bed to stand that she remembers. Shore leave. Drinks with the boys (and Bomber). 2Dads boasting about his prowess with women. Tequila shots. Beating 2Dads at pool. And a shots contest. Stumbling into a cab.
A smile crosses her face when she sees the time. 1015. She's managed to sleep for a good 8 hours. It's been a long while since the last time she's slept so long and so well. This is the reason she drinks. It numbs the ache in her chest, the one that has been crushing her heart for 10 weeks and 3 days, and allows her to forget, if only for a few hours.
Hoisting herself out of bed, she sheds her alcohol-infused clothes and pads down the hall in the nude. No-one will notice or care. She's alone.
When she reaches the bathroom she glances in the mirror to find a familiar redness in her eyes, and she sighs. The tears seem to have a mind of their own these days, falling when they choose, rather than when she allows. She's sick of crying all the time, would much rather spend her days pasting a smile on her face and pretending her crewmates don't know what she's going through. Which they don't, not really.
She now spends her all her free time with the boys, drinking and laughing and reminiscing about ET. Though she feels awful about it, she can't bear to spend any significant amount of one-on-one time with Kate, has even taken to scheduling herself on different watches and shore leaves. Kate's been nothing but a supportive friend these past weeks. But that's the problem – how can she ever hope to move on when Kate continually wants to talk about Josh?
They're separate in her head, ET and Josh. ET is the sailor who was friends with every single person on board, the one whose absence clouds her every moment on the ship. He's the dead one. Josh the boyfriend was a fantasy for so long that when the real Josh left, he went right back to her dreams.
It's part of the reason she has such trouble sleeping on board the ship; Hammersley was always off limits with regards to their relationship, but he always returns in her dreams. Even at home, in her own bed, she struggles to get a decent night's sleep. That's where the alcohol comes in. She knows it's not a permanent solution, not by a long shot. But, for the moment, it's the only way she can knock herself out long enough to enjoy her dreams.
Breathless and dazed, she slowly pulls away from his kiss. His teeth grips her lower lip playfully as he softly nibbles on it, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She grins, her hands around his neck, her fingers playing with the short strands of hair at the nape. "Come on, let's jump in the shower."
If it's possible, his smile grows wider. "I'll jump you in the shower all right." He laughs huskily, toying with the hem of her shirt.
Shaking her head and laughing, she moves from his lap and intertwines their fingers. She shoots him a pointed look over her shoulder as she drags him towards the bathroom, ignoring his feet stumbling behind her. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
She turns on the shower and steps under the spray immediately, not bothering to wait for it to heat up. No amount of hot water can replace his touch on her skin.
The shampoo is cool in her hand, and she massages with her eyes closed, imagining it's Josh's fingers in her hair. It works for a while… until her arms begin to ache. Tears sting her eyes and, as she sticks her head under the water, she pretends the lather trickling down her face is the cause.
……………………
Two weeks later, she kneels in the sand on a deserted stretch of beach and pours water out of a jar. Lancelot eventually slides out, and she watches with bated breath as he circles once, twice, then disappears quicker than she can blink.
She lets out a sigh as she looks out over the water, seeing the Hammersley moored a short distance away. It's so hard to move on when she's reminded of him every single day. Photos of him with the boys are tacked up all around the common areas; memories of his cheeky grin hit her every time she sees a smile from Swain, Buffer or Charge. For so long she has held onto everything and anything that reminded her of him.
But now she's ready. "I'll miss you," she whispers into the breeze, finally ready to accept the truth: Josh 'ET' Holiday is dead.