He was familiar with the layout of the ship from an inspection he had made the previous day. The storage room Amy had described made an excellent hiding place. Besides being tucked in the bowels of ship, it was stacked to the ceiling with yachting shit and was L-shaped. He imagined he could remain out of sight even if Gilbert had the urge to grab an extra life jacket or a spare wrench. There was a great corner to disappear into. It was here he stacked his equipment and lay down to wait on top of a partially inflated raft.

The room was hot and stuffy and he was exhausted. He yawned and closed his eyes but did not worry he would sleep. He had not slept well since he had caught Amy with David. His frantic heartbeat settled into a silent throb. A secret pain—he felt so alone in his distress. God had no interest in his dilemma. Matt did not believe in the power of divine grace, anyway. Matt had prayed for peace when he had first caught Amy with David. Now he just blotted things out.

There was a lot to be said for denial.

Until it blew up in your face.

Ninety minutes went by. Finally he heard sounds coming from above. The happy party returning from another night of selfless service and deep meditation. There was plenty of giggling and cursing. He thought he heard David grope Amy. No, that would not have been possible. But Matt had to ask himself if she would fuck David before he fell asleep. One last screw before the grave. Matt regretted that he had not checked out their private cabin. It would have been a pleasure to rub super glue on their condoms. Or acid on her lipstick. Bring out the blowtorch, baby.

Kathy had muttered a lot about acid when they had slept together.

Matt realized how much he missed her. Her simple honesty.

The ship got underway. Matt estimated that Gilbert had the engines at half throttle. They could take two hours to return to the mainland. The length of time should not have bothered Matt and yet it did. He had told Amy the truth when he had said how vulnerable he would be while he was on the ship. Perhaps that had been a mistake. She knew how to take advantage of weakness. God, he could not stop thinking how much he hated her. And here she was the love of his life. It made him wonder if he had gotten the definition of the words mixed up in first grade.

“The opposite of love is not hate,” he muttered. “It’s sex.”

Amy appeared a half hour later.