The phone rings and Jen would bet her life it’s Rosemary, wanting to know if she can sneak away for breakfast. No one else calls this early.
Jen leaps up and lunges toward the desk to grab the phone before it wakes Jace.
“Good morning,” she says, a little breathless.
“Good morning,” Rosemary chirps in her very best teacher voice.
“So, whatcha doin?”
“Just thinkin’ about getting Chris up,” Jen lies.
“You wanna come for breakfast?” Rosemary asks.
Jen feels torn, as she suspects Rosemary knows. She’d love to go to the Marina and have a leisurely girls breakfast with Rosemary, just like they used to every Saturday morning. But another part of her knows it’s really not fair to Chris. He likes to roam in the morning. The prospect of waking Jace this early to watch him fills her with a sense of dread, however irrational. What usually ends up happening in this situation is Jen says she’d better not, and then they talk on the phone for an hour, and hell, they could have had breakfast by then, Jen reasons. Today, she decides to take the plunge and say to hell with playing earth mommy.
“Sure,” Jen says, “I’ll wake Jace up after a shower, and meet you at the Marina in an hour.”
“Great,” Rosemary says, clearly a little surprised.
“See you then,” Jen says, and hangs up the phone. Slight regret but buying the motor scooter back must have liberated her in some small way. So much importance attached to such little wheels. She’s got to get a life, she thinks.
A while later, Jen is sitting at the marina, enjoying the sundogs and hint of spring as the warming sun plays with the cool blue water, the awakening air. The only thing Jen wants more than to ride her scooter today is to be on a boat. Rosemary hasn’t yet arrived due to a slight revision of plans. Jen decided to walk two miles into town and catch a bus over to Lou’s. Jace clearly thought she was nuts. Jen told him she just felt like it. The real reason she did it was to get the scooter and take it home. But it seemed like to much to tell Jace when he was huffing around this morning, so she didn’t explain. This meant when she gets home, he will make a big deal out of the fact that she didn’t tell him about the motor scooter this morning. This line of reflection is beginning to cloud the otherwise crisp, sparkling morning and the freedom it promises. Jen’s brow is furrowed as she wonders why Rosemary hasn’t made it here by now.
Perhaps she figured Jen would be late because she always seems to have trouble getting out of the house on time. Jace wants her to do something, Chris needs to be fed, etc. It occurred to her today that they would look after each other if she just went. What would they do if she were hit by a truck?
The water is that sparkling super blue you only get on the sunniest, coldest days before spring arrives in full force. The Marina always opens this weekend, perhaps reckoning back to a time when the lack of global warming meant real season changes at predictable times. Nowadays, it could snow this weekend, and stay warm well into December. Jen finds it a little unsettling. Some of the boat owners here don’t care if green has emerged yet; they’re lowering their rigs into the icy water, hell bent on the season’s first cruise. It makes it feel like summer almost, even though the wind is making Jen’s cheeks numb.
There is only a handful of people who’ve decided to eat outside on the patio today. One couple sits in the corner squinting and shouting at each other in the wind. There’s a little old lady along the rail near the parking lot, furtively trying to catch the half-used jam containers that the wind is whipping about. Jen’s coffee’s nearly ice cold already. Two of the waitresses have come out to struggle with the awning they sometimes cover the patio with. The inside must be starting to fill up. They crank it out and heave it towards the other end of the support to anchor it, but the wind billows up under it and it’s all they can do to hold on. They’re far too tiny for this task. Jen wonders if the lazy cook sent them out. A man is watching them through the window with an amused look on his face. Just as Jen’s thinking smart ass why don’t you help them, he walks out on the patio to do just that. Jen realizes she should join in, it really takes four people, three’s no good. She offers to hold the end closest to her while the tiniest waitress goes to crank the rest of it out. Jen feels light in the wind, like it will lift her up and plop her into the water. The couple in the corner appear to be too engrossed in themselves to notice they’re in her way. She’s almost on top of them, struggling with her corner, and they’re still pretending she’s not there. So she climbs over the railing to the outside edge, a precarious notion at best, and inches along towards the end. Just as she stretches up to hook the end into the support, she begins to loose her footing. The hook goes in all right, but Jen slides down, holding onto the metal pole, feet now dangling over the edge, just above the water. She tries to get one foot back onto the cement pad, but her deck shoe falls off and drops into the water. Just then she feels two large hands under her armpits, lifting her like a child over the railing. It is the man, who seems to be enjoying himself. His blue eyes sparkle like the water – playful but a little cold underneath. He has a handsome jaw and looks like he works out.
“Thanks,” Jen says, “Wind’s sure strong.” She’s a little out of breath, and feeling clumsy.
“Thought you were gone to feed the fish,” he says, trying on a ribald sailor voice. It doesn’t work. He peers over the edge and points: “ S’That your shoe?”
“Uhm, well, yes it’s my shoe.” Jen looks over to see her expensive leather deck shoe floating like a toy boat in a bathtub tempest. She has to laugh; it looks kind of silly.
“Here, I’ll get it,” he says.
Before Jen can stop him, he’s over the rail, lowering himself toward the water, one hand on the cement pad. He kicks at the sodden shoe with his foot until it’s against the wall, and then inches it up while pulling himself up the rail. When he gets high enough, he reaches down and grabs it. Quite a performance, really. She increases her estimation of how much time he spends at the gym.
“Here you go, ma’am.” He’s grinning, clearly pleased with himself.
“Thanks, thank you very much. That was a brave rescue,” Jen says, not meaning to flirt exactly but the inanity is killing her.
“Aw, it’s nothing, I think she’ll revive, she’s taken on a bit of water, is all,” he says, still flushed from exertion and catching his breath while attempting to appear nonchalant.
“Well, thanks,” Jen smiles and turns, walking back to her table, where Rosemary’s now sitting, taking it all in. The sailor follows. Jen suspects he intends to sit with them. She sits down, waiting to see what he will do. She doesn’t like to give people the wrong impression.
“Can I buy you a coffee,” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Sure,” Jen says, resigned to politeness. “Have a seat,” she waves to the empty chair.
She regrets this, because now she and Rosemary can’t really talk, but she didn’t want to be rude. After all, the man saved her shoe. As if to punctuate this thought, she drops the soggy shoe to the ground and slides her foot into it, regretting it instantly.
“This is my friend, Rosemary,” Jen says. “Rosemary, this is the guy who just rescued my shoe from a chilly, watery grave.”
“My name’s Pete,” he says, standing up again to reach over and shake Rosemary’s hand awkwardly. “And your name?” He turns and looks right at Jen.
“Oh, sorry, it’s Jen.” She offers her hand for a polite shake, and the guy kisses it. She feels eight shades of red. Time to mention husband.
“Thanks again for getting the shoe,” Jen says, “My husband would have killed me. He bought me those for our anniversary.”
Pete sinks back down into the chair and cocks his head, rubbing his chin, either for effect or for warmth, Jen’s not sure which.
“He bought you shoes for your anniversary?” he says.
“Well, yeah, I like shoes,” Jen says, a tad defensively.
“Lots of ‘em,” adds Rosemary, giggling into her coffee mug.
“Heap big lot of shoes,” Jen says, for lack of anything better. At the moment, she’s wishing this particular wet shoe was not on her foot, where it’s threatening to ice over and bind itself forever to her skin.
“A foot fetish,” Pete continues, not letting the proverbial shoe drop.
“Technically speaking, that would be a shoe fetish,” Jen says.
“Kept in a shoe,” says Pete.
“You mean, a pumpkin shell, right?” says Rosemary.
“Oh yeah, I guess I got my nursery rhymes mixed up. It was an old woman who lived in a shoe, right? Couldn’t be you, then Jen.” Pete flashes Jen another close-up smile.
“Oh, yes it could,” Jen says. Nothing like a self-depreciating comment to fuel a real flirt.
“No way,” Pete says, I have a kid sister older than you.
“Okay, Father Time,” Jen says, “Since you’re the senior citizen here, we’ll let you order. Maybe they’ll give you a 10% discount.”
“Rose,” he yells at the passing waitress, “the Fisherman’s Special for the ladies!”
“Wait a minute,” Rosemary says, “I want brown toast… “
“Brown Toast for everyone, and orange juice and some more coffee.”
Rosemary and Jen are looking at each other uncomfortably. They’re wondering if Pete plans on commandeering the entire breakfast now.
Pete turns back to them and says, “So, do you ladies like to sail?”
“We love to sail!” says Rosemary.
In truth, Jen can seldom get Rosemary into her canoe, let alone a sailboat. She doesn’t like things that are tippy.
“Great, I’ll pick you up here in half an hour or so. I have to take the Bounty out for a quick check. My buddy’s waiting for me at the dock,” Pete says and leaps up from the table, as if he’s just now remembered said buddy.
“What about your breakfast,” Jen asks, always the logician.
“Oh, I already ate—I just ordered for you two. So I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll dock right over there and wave, okay? “
“Okay!” says Rosemary. In a flash, Pete is gone.
Still smiling, Jen turns to Rosemary and hisses: “What are you doing? I don’t want to go sailing!”
“Sure you do,” says Rosemary. “He likes you,” she stage whispers back.
“So, so what. That doesn’t mean I want to go sailing with him. In fact, it makes me want to sail with him even less. I have to get home. It’s bad enough I’m bringing the scooter, I don’t want to be gone half the day too!”
Jen looks out over the rail to a small section of shore where seagulls squabble and puff, fighting over some morsel of dead fish. Rosemary is starting to irritate her. She doesn’t seem to get that whole married-with-child thing.
“Aha! So that is your old scooter out front. What’s goin’ on?” Rosemary leans forward, as if there’s good gossip ahead.
“Lou sold it back to me,” Jen shrugs.
“What did Jace say?”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“He’ll get used to it,” she says.
“Yeah, right.” Jen says. “I’m starting to lose my confidence about that one.” She stirs her coffee absently. The waitress arrives with their plates. This doesn’t stop Rosemary from carrying on.
“He’s cute,” she says.
“Who, Pete? Who cares if Pete’s cute?”
“You do. Admit it. I can tell.”
“What, you think I should fuck Pete to get out of this slump?” Jen asks, stabbing her eggs with the knife until they bleed yolk across the plate.
“I didn’t say that. I just think you need something to stir up the muck a bit. I mean, you’re getting lost in good-wife-land or something. You need to get some of your old self back,” Rosemary muttered.
“Fuck that. You know the last person to say that to me? Saint. You’re starting to sound just like the Saint. Why does everyone have such a problem when I want to change direction a little? It’s my life!” Jen glared at Rosemary across the table, fork frozen mid-air.
“Hey, okay, it’s your life. Maybe I’m no better than her. Maybe I have a problem about living vicariously through my friends,” Rosemary says, looking hurt. Suddenly, Jen feels awful. Rosemary’s the one person who’s always on her side. The Saint dig wasn’t really fair.
“No you don’t, you’re not bad that way,” Jen reaches across the table to pat her hand. “Besides, YOU’RE the one I’M supposed to be living vicariously through. You’re the single one. I’m out to pasture,” Jen smiles.
“But you’re a better flirt.”
“Well then get it together, lady, things are getting a little boring around here. Can’t you at least find an eighteen-year-old student to obsess about?” Jen teases.
Rosemary is the one blushing now.
“Wait,” Jen says, “He didn’t bring you food again, did he?”
“Ratatouille. A bucket of it.” Rosemary looks down at her plate and slides the hashbrowns around, picking up grains of salt that glint in the sun.
“Are you going to fail him?”
“Definitely,” she says.
A lot of Rosemary’s students fall in love with her, especially the anarchists. Now and then, she falls too, but she never lets on. Ever. The latest one reminds Jen of a not-fully-formed version of Rob. It’s kind of eerie, the resemblance. It must blow her mind, Jen thinks, seeing him every day, wondering if Rob was like that when he was a kid. It’s gotta be hard. Jen’s never lost anyone like that. They talk about it now and again, but Jen can’t really say anything useful. All that philosophizing turns into a pile of shit when you haven’t been there.
Inspired, Jen says ‘Why don’t you just go out with him?”
“Are you completely out of your mind? And give up my career, now and forever? They just made me department head!” Rosemary says.
“Who said anything about giving up your job?”
She rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed. “You don’t get it, do you? I’d be FIRED Jen.”
“Who has to know?” Jen asks.
“You expect me to trust an 18-year-old to keep his mouth shut? You’re insane,” Rosemary says, sotto.
“Well, it’s just you keep having these dreams about him. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Sure. It means there aren’t any adult men in my life,” Rosemary says. She stabs a sausage with her fork and begins to saw vigorously.
“What about next year, after he graduates?”
“Look, will you just drop it?”
“Don’t be pissed off.”
“Yeah, well, why do you assume I have to settle for an 18-year-old? “
“I don’t. I just think you’re really nuts about the guy. And I think his age doesn’t really have anything to do with it. You said yourself he’s an old soul, more mature than your mid-life crisis lovers have been,” Jen says.
“God, will you just drop it! I don’t need to be sold, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry. Look, let’s get outta here before Pete comes back with his boat,” Jen says, pushing away her half-eaten and wholly unwanted breakfast.
“I’m not finished yet,” Rosemary pouts, clearly miffed.
“We can go for a ride on the scooter instead,” Jen offers hopefully.
“Jen, the wheels are too small.”
“So I hear,” Jen sighs. Damned scooter.
“Why are you panicking?” Rosemary wants to know.
“Bad vibe. I don’t want to be stuck out on the lake with two strange men, okay?”
“Pete seems harmless.”
“Those are the worst kind. Please.”
“Okay, okay. How am I supposed to meet men with a friend like you. Christ!”
Rosemary drains her coffee, slams the cup down and shoves her plate aside. Jen’s not sure if she’s serious or not…about meeting men. It’s not really like her. Something’s a little off with them both today, Jen thinks.
They’re walking along the boardwalk toward the parking lot when he spots them.
“Hey, ladies, where’re ya going?”
Slightly startled, Jen turns around, and sees Pete hanging over the rail of the boat docked at the gas pump. She’s a little guilty, a little surprised because she didn’t think they’d be gassing up.
“We’ve really gotta go. Sorry. But thanks for inviting us,” she says, as sweetly as she can.
“Aw, come on, just a quick trip around the bay,” says Pete.
Just then a rather handsome man with long brown hair pokes his head out of the cabin. He is wearing a jean jacket with grease stains all over it, and has a wrench in his hand. Jen notices Rosemary noticing.
“Hey Pete, ya wanna come here for a minute,” he rumbles.
“Can’t right now, our crew for our maiden voyage are trying to escape,” Pete shouts, nodding their direction.
The man gives us half a glance and smirks a little. “You ladies let this guy talk you into sailing with him?”
“No. No we didn’t.” Jen says.
“Good thing. This is his first time.”
“How hard can it be?” says Pete.
Jen rolls her eyes. During her mid-life man era, Jen became rather familiar with the perils of sailing. Rather, sailing while warding off the ever-needy clutch of the captain. Rosemary is giggling and can’t seem to stop.
“Pete, it can be very hard on a windy day like this,” Jen say soberly.
“That’s why we bought one with an engine,” he says.
“You know how to sail?” asks his friend, suddenly interested in us.
“It’s been a long time.” Jen says.
“Look, why don’t you come with us. Pete’s attention span isn’t so good. I could use the help.” he says.
“This your first trip out?” Jen asks, mildly interested in the logistics.
“On the Bounty. We just had her brought up from Florida. I’m just tuning her up a bit. We have a charter next week.”
“A charter?” Jen asks.
“Yeah, we have this deal with the resort where guests can buy a package for a week, two days out sailing and the rest of the week at the resort.”
“That’s a great idea. My friend works at the tourist bureau and they’re always looking for someone to handle group charters. I should give you her card,” Jen says.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I’d appreciate the contact. We’ll see how it goes. So far, though, we have quite a few bookings. It looks good. This baby has a long history of charters, the guy that had her before used to take people around the keys to dive the reefs. I used to work for him in Key West. He just retired last year. Come aboard, I’ll show you around.”
Pete is quick to take Jen’s arm and help her up. He strikes her as a kid now, showing off. Kind of too eager. His friend notices Rosemary tentatively following, and takes her arm. Jen notices, and thinks it’s kind of sweet, because Pete just ignored her.
Pete’s friend shows them around, telling them about different parts of the yacht, where it was made, and a lot of other semi-boring details. He’s definitely a detail man.
“Why didn’t you stay in Key West and keep the old guy’s business?” Jen asks.
“Couple of reasons. I missed my folks mainly, Dad’s getting up there and he had a stroke last year, scared the hell outta me. I’ve been away from here too long, you know. Since I was eighteen. Key West is great, but sooner or later we all come home, right? I mean, I don’t know, I must be getting old. Besides, when you’re from someplace you spend a while hating it and wanting to get away. But then you grow up a little, and want to make it better. You know what I mean?”
“Oh yeah, I know exactly what you mean. It’s sweet you’re so close to your folks. A lot of guys just seem to wander off and never come back.” Jen says.
“Yeah, well, they’re great people. I’m very lucky to have them. By the way, I’m Paul.” He extends his hand.
“I’m sorry” Pete steps in, “this is Jen and Rosemary.”
“Peter and Paul? You got to be kidding me,” says Rosemary.
“Yeah, we get ribbed a lot,” says Paul. “It used to be really bad when Pete was living with Mary.
Everybody groans.
“So” says Pete, “Shall we christen the Bounty then?” He procures a bottle of one of Jen’s favorite Pinot Grigios and rummages around in the cabin for glasses. Paul just kinda rolls his eyes.
“This is Pete’s idea of sailing” he says. Jen laughs.
“What will you do next week?”
“Oh, he’s a silent partner. I’ve hired two guys to help me, since I’ll have to attend to the guests.”
“Good thing.” Jen smiles.
Just then, Pete emerges from the cabin holding four wineglasses. The thin glass stems look too delicate for his meaty red hands. Jen revises her estimate of his age…his hands tell her it’s been a while since he’s seen 30, that he just likes to act that way. He likely perms his hair; in the wind Jen can see that the roots are straight and the curls chunky. Jen pictures him sitting at the hairdressers, broad back dwarfing the chair, head full of rollers with solution easing down his face like tears. Jen see him looking hard into the mirror, making sure he’s there. Jen laughs at the image.
“What?” he says, a little too defensively. He is standing right in front of her.
“Nothing, I was just thinking,” Jen says, alarmed that she dropped out like that.
“You want to share you thoughts?” he says. He can’t burry the edge.
Rosemary laughs.
“What are you laughing about now?” He tries for an amused look but the girls don’t buy it.
“The way you said that,” she says. “SHARE your thoughts…you must be a teacher.”
Now Paul starts chuckling.
“You’re good,” he says to Rosemary.
“Are you,” Jen says, relieved to be off the hook, “a teacher?”
“So what’s so funny about that?” he says.
“Nothing.”
Rosemary lights up. “That’s where I know you from! You were at the strike vote Friday!”
“Yeah, you teach too?” He seems a little nervous, like this is getting too close, not the yachting other life he wants to live today.
“Yeah, at Central.” she says.
“I’m out in the county,” he says.
“Where?”
“Our Lady. But let’s not talk about teaching today, okay. I get enough of that all week.”
“You’re not kidding.” Rosemary is sympathetic. She too likes to have an “other” life. This town is just too small to teach in. Everywhere they go, bars even, they see students. They’re always amazed. TEACHERS go to bars? They have LIVES? Rosemary hates it. That’s why she doesn’t go out much.
They all take their glasses, and Pete pours.
“To the Bounty” says Paul, raising his glass to the sky.
“To our new crew,” says Pete, looking at me again.
“To Abundance,” Rosemary says, looking at Jen. She must be thinking about her favorite Angel Card. She must be thinking about Paul, who, by now, is thinking about her. She musn’t see that Jen is thinking about jumping ship, that she can’t sell her brains for an eighty foot yacht.
The guys are buoyed at this, while Jen sinks to the bottom of her life like a stone.