Preview Zoe Thanatos – Millennial Houseplant

Strangers On a Boat

Approx. reading time:

5–8 minutes

The morning air was chilly for early June. The fog may have come in overnight and stayed into the morning, but the promise of sunshine was not lost on Zoe Thanatos as she closed the car door behind her, remnants of the sun peeking out from behind light grey clouds. From her place in the parking lot she could see small boats and ships floating in the water parked in their assigned spots, waiting for their owners to take them out for a day on the Pacific.
After purchasing a ticket for the hour and a half trip to Santa Cruz Island she noticed a smattering of people milling about the harbor; a scouting troop of girls yawning as their leader made an inventory of their belongings, all manner of sleeping bags, fishing and camping gear. Smaller groupings of tourists were standing around talking amongst themselves, ready for the adventure that awaited them. She looked around at all the faces, most of them smiling or otherwise happy, and wondered what made her so different from them.
It wasn’t her history to be unhappy. She could recall with ease several instances throughout her life where she was unequivocally happy and at peace. However, those moments occurred less often the older she got and by the time she reached her 24th birthday one year ago, all happiness had escaped her life completely. She couldn’t stand the thought of waking up to another day of emptiness.
She made no hurry to board as the attendants announced the imminent departure of the boat. She held her ticket and watched as the group of young girls formed a line to board the ship, their excitement growing with each passing minute. She joined at the back of the line and recalled her first trip to the island just off the coast of Ventura. For hours she hiked in the hot sun until reaching the top of a cliff with a singularly stunning view of the Pacific Ocean as it stretched out for miles. It was the tallest she’d ever stood, and one of the last times she ever smiled so wide it hurt her face. She hoped for just an ounce of that feeling today.
She gave her ticket to the attendant and boarded, making her way to the top deck where she could watch the journey with an uninterrupted view. Twenty minutes later they were off, making their way through the harbor with ease, out towards the open water of the Pacific. A quiet stream of chatter flowed around her, but Zoe’s attention remained on the horizon. The boat gained speed and rode over crests of deep blue waves. The minutes passed in silence as she stared out towards the unseen chain of Channel Islands.
“I heard it’s possible we’ll see dolphins on our way to the island.” Zoe frowned and looked quizzically at the stranger who interrupted her thoughts. He was a young man whose smile revealed perfectly straight white teeth. He was tan with a square jaw, eyes bright and green beneath a thick blanket of lashes, and had a crop of chestnut hair. He was the kind of handsome that was impossibly charming, with a penetrative stare that must have made many women swoon. She would disappoint him. “It’s true,” she replied. “And seals. They like to lie out on the buoys.”
“Have you been before?” he asked. To her surprise he seemed genuinely interested in her, though she suspected it was nothing more than an attempt to pass the time.
“Once a few years ago. Your first time?”
“It is. A buddy of mine mentioned the trails are awesome for hiking and that the views are great. He claimed it was like being in another world,” he laughed and shook his head in a way that made her wonder why he even mentioned it to begin with. Zoe searched her memory, recalling images of the island.
“I can see why your friend would say that. Though, I don’t have much to compare it to.” Her eyes drifted down to her hands clasped in her lap. She never travelled too far from home and always regretted it when the thought came to mind. She had the financial means to go wherever she pleased but could never commit to traveling. An island 30 miles off the coast of her hometown was the furthest she had ever gone.
“I’m Evan,” he introduced as his hand extended toward her. When her eyes met his again she noticed they conveyed a sense of warmth, a geniality that seemed almost unnatural for a virtual stranger. Her instinct told her she could trust him; she didn’t listen.
“Anne,” she lied as she shook his hand. It was a soft hand, she thought, and gentle. The corners of her mouth picked up. It was the best smile she could manage.
“Very nice to meet you, Anne.” His eyes took a quick appraisal of her as she had of him, though his examination felt more personal, as if he could tell more about her from her face than from her words. “So seals and dolphins? Any chance of seeing a whale?”
She feigned nonchalance. “I imagine it’s possible.”
“I’m heading up to Santa Barbara to go whale watching tomorrow. I’m sort of creating my own road trip, going up the coast beach by beach.” There was an inherent excitement in everything he talked about, his whole face moving as he spoke. His eyes widened and eyebrows arched as he talked about the boardwalk in Santa Monica, his mouth curling into a smile as he recalled driving up Pacific Coast Highway. His recollections were so clear it was as though he was reliving each experience. Zoe listened with interest as he laid out his plan to go up the coast from Santa Barbara to San Luis Obispo. By the time he reached San Francisco, Zoe realized it was not her interest that kept her listening, but her envy. Having lived her entire life at or around the beach made her familiar and jaded with its inherent charms. He had something to look forward to and she couldn’t recall the last time she felt the same way.
“At some point I’d love to go all the way up to Oregon and Washington and take in the entire coast.” It wasn’t until he finished speaking that she realized she had been staring at him, her thoughts eclipsed by his enthusiasm and warmth, her eyes unable to look away from the dimples that puckered his cheeks when he smiled. For a fraction of a moment she was unburdened by her own life and caught up in his, imagining tents perched on the beach at Refugio, the great monolith embedded in the shore off Morro Bay, and the salt water taffy she’d risk a cavity for from a small shop along the boardwalk.
The moment passed and she was transported back to her own reality, the confining plastic chair beneath her a fitting allegory for her own discontent. She tried to think of something to say to excuse her staring, but found she had nothing to say.