The Honeymooners

Three. Cameras and rubber boats

I put my arms out in front of me and feel my blood pressure skyrocket. The strap is no longer on my wrist, meaning the camera must have slipped off my arm during my coughing fit. Oh, no. I'm a dead woman.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Enzo grips onto his hair in despair, not knowing what to do with his body as he ranges from peering down into the water from up here to dunking his head underwater to look for his beloved Samantha.

Yes, the thing meant that much to him that he named it.

Dead. Woman.

Enzo is desperately trying to reign in his anger. "I bought her with my first pay cheque. We have a lot of memories stored on her from Friday. I never got the chance to take out the memory to download onto my laptop."

"Not the wedding pictures," I cry, dunking my body underneath the water. Enzo specifically asked the photographer to take some separate photos of us for our scrapbook. I surface when I can't open my eyes for long enough. "I can't see it."

"She'll be long gone now," he slumps his shoulders, the anger replaced with disappointment.

"I'll buy you a new one," I swim up to him and wrap my arms around his neck. "As soon as we find a shopping centre, I'll buy you the best one they sell."

Enzo stares up at the sky. "It's not the point, Am. You need to take better care of other people's property. You can be selfish in that way."

I feel as if the water is back in my lungs at his words. Me, selfish? "It was an accident, Enzo. I'm sorry."

Enzo removes my hands from his shoulders and then heads out of the water. "I'm tired. I might get a nap in before we head back out onto the road."

I can feel his sadness growing stronger with every step.

I chase after him, my legs tiring from the water. "I need to shower. I'll come back with you."

Enzo accepts my hand but keeps quiet all the way back to our tent. Even, when I ask him questions on the ph levels in soil affecting the rate the crops will grow. It's one of his favourite topics seeing as though he is a farmers son.

I watch him curl into his sleeping bag like a caterpillar in its cocoon and feel helpless. Enzo is always so carefree and joyful. This side of him is unnerving.

"Do you want a burger bringing back? You were keen to try one when we first got here," I say, picking up my towel and toiletry bag.

"I'm still full from breakfast," he responds, ending the conversation.

I fiddle with the edge of my hot pink Victoria's Secret towel. "I'll go and ask the campsite staff if there is anything they can do to find Samantha."

"They won't be able to do anything, Am," he replies, sounding like a sulking teenage boy.

"Well, I've got to at least try for you."

Enzo sits up and turns his annoyed gaze on me. "I said to leave it, okay?"

"Fine, I will, if you are going to sit around and feel sorry for yourself," I say, narrowing my eyes.

Enzo lifts his hands up and hits his thighs, throwing his body to the side, so he's facing away from me. "Enjoy your shower."

I lift my nose in the air. "Oh, I intend to do. Enjoy your nap."

"I will," he snaps.

I kneel to get out of the tent zipping him inside, so I know he's safe. Knowing I have to try and help find his camera, I take a detour towards the lake safety hut. The door is shut when I reach it, but I can see two men inside from the windows. I knock and wait, seeing one of the men look at me through the glass.