Jetsam

I float in the water, weightless, awaiting the verdict.

In pirate lore, the call of "parlay" allows an innocent to speak with the pirate captain to beg for mercy, their life, or a swift death instead of the plank.

I cried parlay in my sleep, you tell me. "What are you wishing for?"

I wish, in my dreams, for little fingers, perfectly formed, gripping mine strongly. I wish for the moments when he cries in his sleep, which are rare, and I walk up to listen for his breathing. I listen so softly because his breath comes quietly, peacefully, and it can be felt more than heard. He smells like Johnson's Baby Shampoo and slightly sour milk. He smells of innocence.

I wish, in my life, for one minute to hold on to things that I have lost. For stronger memories that don't fade over time. For an instant replay of the moment my world collapsed. I could fix it if I could just go back. Instead of "get out of my sight" I would say "let's sit down and talk." I could change the course of events, if only I had that one moment back.

So I whisper "parlay" and hope for a captain with a heart not made of coal and barbed wire.

Instead, I find you, sitting on the lounge chair. Staring at me as though I'm crazy. Again. "Who do you think will listen? Who will answer when you say something so asinine?"

I pull myself slowly from the water. I look at you with steel and ice and malice and anger. "Who will listen?" I take a long pull of breath into my lungs. "I will listen. And I'm the one who matters."

For parlay to be effective, you have to believe in what it is you ask. Anything less and the pirates will know. They will sense your unease. They will destroy you.

The jetsam floats silently across the water as the broken boards and kegs of brandy float away from the wreckage. This time, parlay saved the innocent. Sometimes the magic works.