“What fireworks?” I said. And at that instant the first of them boomed in the air (a red-and-white starburst, I remember distinctly), and we both laughed as if you had made them appear just by asking. There were two chairs in the pavilion, and I set them beside one another, and we spent the next hour watching those fireworks like an old couple on their porch. Only when the explosions finished did we say our names.

I remember that hour as if I could walk inside it and touch its edges. The curiosity of attraction, the stolen glances, the voice in my head saying Who is this woman? What is she like? Why does she trust me this way? The possibilities of another person! Is there any anticipation on this Earth quite like that one? Is there anything lonelier than being without it?

You were educated and accomplished and tender and beautiful, and I confess, from the moment I saw you, I felt unworthy of your affection. I never finished high school. I had few career options. My clothes were dull and worn out, and my bony frame and straggly hair were hardly attractive. But I instantly loved you, and incredibly, in time, you loved me back. It was the happiest I have ever been and the happiest I imagine I ever will be. Still, I always sensed I would disappoint you in some future way. I lived with that silent fear for four years, Annabelle, right until the day you left me. It’s been nearly ten months now, and I know it makes no sense writing. But it nourishes me through these lost nights. You once said, “We all need to hold on to something, Benji.” Let me hold on to you, that first hour of you, the two of us staring at a colorful sky. Let me finish my story. Then I will let go of you and this world.

* * *

Four a.m. The others are asleep in contorted positions under the canopy. Some snore with gurgling noises; others, like Lambert, are as loud as a buzz saw. I’m surprised he doesn’t wake up the whole boat. Or raft. Geri keeps telling me to call it a raft. Boat. Raft. What difference does it make?

I fight sleep desperately. I am fatigued beyond measure, but when I sleep, I drift into dreams of the Galaxy sinking, and I am back in that cold, dark water.

I don’t know what happened, Annabelle. I swear I don’t. The impact was so sudden, I cannot even tell you the moment I was thrown into the sea. It was raining. I was by myself on the lower deck. My arms rested on the rail. My head was down. I heard a booming noise, and next thing I knew, I was hurtling toward the water.