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The laughter puts some pressure on my stomach, which constantly reminds me of our situation, growling its own testament to the passing hours of uncertainty. Hunger gnaws at my insides, and I can only assume Derrick feels the same.
“I’m famished,” I admit, yawning my gut out.
“Same here,” Derrick also admits. The vulnerability of our predicament amplifies the pressing need for nourishment.
Breaking the silence, Derrick stands up, determination etched across his features. His footsteps reverberate in the confined space as he crosses the rooftop to revisit the corner he’d explored earlier. The contents of his earlier discovery spark an idea, and I observe as he reaches for bottles of water. A glimmer of hope begins to flicker within me, a sign that perhaps we won’t have to endure hunger in this bleak confinement.
In his hands, he carries a carton, which he eagerly drops and opens, unveiling a variety of supplies. Glucose packs, dry milk, and canned food present themselves to us. Relief mingles with amusement upon seeing our culinary options. It’s far from a gourmet meal, yet closer than close to sustenance, a precious commodity in this moment.
Derrick returns with his found treasures and places them between us. A smile tugs at my lips as he opens the can of fish.
“Canned mackerel, huh?” I ask sarcastically. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind for dinner.”
“I know, right? I’m sure it’s not your idea of a gourmet meal either.”
We share a light-hearted laugh, the room’s tension easing, if only for a brief moment.
“It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got up here,” Derrick says. “We’ll have to make do.”
“Absolutely. It’s better than going hungry. Thank you.”
Derrick nods and spreads his arms wide open. “Welcome to my buffet.” I smile.
Side by side, we open the cans of mackerel and begin to savor our meager yet welcomed meal. The metallic tang of the canned fish combines with the growing camaraderie between us. Our meal may lack gourmet qualities, but it tastes better than any dish I’ve ever had because it signifies survival, unity, and hope.
“You know, this mackerel isn’t bad at all. Who would’ve thought we’d be sharing canned fish on a roof surrounded by water?”
“Life has a way of surprising us. But I’m just grateful we have something to eat.”
On the roof with dim lighting, we share this simple meal, engaging in conversation punctuated by comfortable silences. Our shared laughter resonates in the confined space, offering a brief respite from the otherwise oppressive silence of our captivity.
The hours keep creeping by, and I feel sleepy. I stretch over to lay on the floor when Derrick stands up and walks to a corner, returning with a sack of old clothes. He pulls them out and makes a soft surface for me to lie on. I thank him.
Soon, all of the stress and panic of the past hours would thin out in the sleep that beckons to me. And I don’t resist.
Chapter Sixteen
Derrick
Amberrestspeacefullyonthe mound of clothes that I had arranged for her to lay on. The quiet rhythm of her breathing has become a soothing backdrop in the dimly lit Rooftop. The bulb has begun experiencing some technical difficulties. Still dim, it flickers now and then, taking turns to leave my eyes grappling for light, before turning back on again. It’s the first moment of tranquility she has had since our world was upturned by the earthquake and tsunami. Since she’s fast asleep, I allow myself the stolen privilege of gazing at her.
I study her face, not with the scrutinizing eyes of an ex-Navy SEAL, not with my ever-rising skepticism, not counting any cost in assessing a situation, but with a tender curiosity that catches me by surprise. Her features, delicate yet resilient, are softened in repose, and I find her unexpectedly beautiful. I had never expected to see myself in such a vulnerable position with anyone, let alone Amber. At the moment, it’s as though I can see through her clothes, past her skin, past her blood vessels—rushing through with her blood straight to her heart—to see the strong-willed woman I’d encountered on the plane and the beautiful woman I’m trapped here with.
Amber’s peaceful expression reveals a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before, and it calls out to something within me. Despite the chaos that surrounds us, there’s a sense of tranquility in this moment.
My thoughts wander as I watch her, and my rational mind tells me to pull back, to keep a safe emotional distance, yet my heart is strangely open, receptive to the connection we’ve begun to forge.
As I stare, caught between vulnerability and strength, I see a small bug make its way across Amber’s hair. I can’t tell what insect it probably is, but it’s slow, probably thinking we’re one of the several objects that had been long forgotten up here. Instinctively, I reach out to brush it away, wanting to shield her from any discomfort. My touch is gentle, but it’s enough to rouse her from her slumber.
Amber blinks, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. I retract my hand, feeling a twinge of guilt for having interrupted her rest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, my voice reflecting my contrition.
Amber waves my apology away. “No need to apologize. How long have I been asleep?”
I can’t help but offer a touch of humor in the midst of our predicament. “Time is a tricky thing when your trapped in the d. Without a clock, it’s hard to say.” It’s a bittersweet reminder of the isolation we’ve endured.
Amber, undeterred by my sarcasm, chuckles softly, her laughter a soothing sound in the dimness. “True enough. This place feels like a world of its own.”
In the midst of our uncertainty, Amber’s laughter is a brief respite. She places a hand on my shoulder and supports herself to stand. She stretches and yawns for some thirty seconds and begins to walk toward the rubble that had been lying in the corners of the rooftop for years. I wonder what she’s up to, but I quietly keep on watching.
