Lost at sea

The strange thing is, you don't know I'm dead. It happened only an
hour or two ago and no one's found me yet. It's rather sad to look down
and see myself floating in the turquoise waters of La Speranza Bay. I
haven't got used to it yet.

Just now a fisherman in a boat decorated with eyes that Picasso could
have painted came puttering by. I held my breath in anticipation. Would
he drag me on board to lie splayed on the tangled nets and tarry cork
floats?

His dark furrowed face turned towards me for a split second. He
obviously saw I wasn't a mass of tangled weed. But he quickly yanked
the tiller over and chugged on his way into the white fire of the
pre-midday sun.

I bobbed up and down in the boat's feathery wake, the sun sending
shooting stars of light up from the mother-of-pearl buttons on my new
Dolce &; Gabana shirt. Then, as I watched in growing shame, the
ripples started working my long flowery skirt up around my waist to
show - oh horror! - that I wasn't wearing underwear.

I'd gone out for an early morning sail round the bay. I pulled on what
I'd been wearing the night before, the first and, as it now seems, last
night you and I...

Oh, I didn't want to die! The boom of your stupid dinghy knocked me not
only unconscious but overboard as well.

And now as I look back at the coast I see you getting out of your Alfa
Spider and scrunching up the gravel drive , talking to Chapman on the
phone.

Oh, I'd love to hear what he's saying to you. You're laughing a lot and
making those little gestures with your head on one side that you know
make you look appealing. I never thought you'd do that if no one was
looking. It must be habit.

I can hear the three long sticks of french bread getting crushed under
your arm. And now you're picking up the cotton shoulder bag that holds
two velvety-black bottles surrounded by light green leafy things. Would
that be celery?

When I met Chapman I only knew potatoes and peas, neither of which I'd
have recognized in their natural state. Strange how you can graduate
from microwaved junk to gourmet goodies in one short step.

Chapman only began what I can now sadly call my short-lived flirtation
with sophistication. It was you who...

Warm gusts of air are circling me and wafting me towards your door. I'm
right over your head now and I'm following you inside.

We're walking to the kitchen table, last night's crumbs spilling onto
the floor. The house phone rings in the living room as you drop the
bread into the bread crock.

Oh, I'm so glad I'll be around when you hear about my death. You'll be
on the phone to Chapman immediately.

You run to the phone so fast I can't keep up with you. You're calling
my name and looking up the stairs.

Yesterday afternoon, mussed and ruffled, I descended the stairs into
your arms. Chapman had gone by then. We were alone.

But it's only Amelia. So you tell her to call later, that I'm still
asleep.

I wish I could see Chapman. I still haven't figured how I move about up
here. I just get wafted around like some sort of meteorological
phenomena.

Chapman had an appointment with some nut who wanted to charter the
Caravel and keep it in La Speranza with Chapman looking after it.

Chapman was going to name his price. Crack the nut, he said.

I'm hovering over the phone waiting for it to ring again and I don't
see Chapman until he's right behind you.

Oh, god! It's all happening so quickly!

As you're bending to put the wine on the stone floor Chapman picks up
the monkey wrench and crashes it down on your head.

You fall on your side, your skull smashed open and blood pumping onto
the floor.

Chapman walks over to the phone and picks it up right next to my
leg.

He punches a number in and when the other party answers he merely says:
'First her, now him. You get out of line and it's you too.'

Who's he talking to? And does First her refer to me?

Did Chapman tamper with the boom? Did he kill me? And now you?

Just as Chapman puts down the phone I look across the room and see you
hovering over your body.

You look across at me in surprise. And then you grin, move your head in
that silly fashion, and hold out your arms.

But I can't seem to move from here...