Page 39 of The Sailor in Polynesia
Doug said he thought he’d organize holding the service in a couple of weeks. I desperately wanted to be there, but planning to get there would be a pain.
I messaged back and forth with James, who often helped me when I was away from proper internet. On the satellite device, I couldn’t actually browse the internet; I could only send and receive small text-based emails or messages. James looked up flight information for me, sending me several options. I pulled up my charts.
Looks like the best option is via LAX,James wrote.Only three flights a week.
From Tahiti? I have to get there first. What are my options? I think there’s an airport here in Fakarava.
No ferry. Flights 4x a week. Ugh, you’d have to overnight in Tahiti. So that’s like... another day of travel.
Actually, can you look up marinas in Tahiti?
While James researched for me, I pulled out my charts and downloaded weather files. If I could make it to Tahiti...
My phone pinged.
Several marinas. I have contact info. Want me to check availability?
I chewed on my lip. It was over two hundred and seventy miles from here to Tahiti, and I would have to do that in a two-night trip, sailing by myself. But I didn’t want to leaveWelinahere unattended. My entire home and possessions were on board, and something as simple as an ill-maintained mooring ball could cause my entire life to turn upside down.
James emailed the Tahiti marina on my behalf, and there was nothing to do but wait till they responded.
By that time it was late for me, and exceedingly late for James. I ate a can of soup and sat in my main salon, laptop on the table in front of me. I clicked through my photos, feeling nostalgia and sadness taking over. There was Crackers at her ninetieth birthday party, at my wedding, as a young coed, bright-eyed and beautiful.
I collapsed on the pillows around me and cried myself to sleep.
* * *
I had slept poorly, and selfishly thought that perhaps if Jonas had stayed, if we’d changed our relationship irrevocably, maybe I would wake up feeling something other than loneliness.
When I got up, I had an email from James, forwarding an email from one of the marinas in Tahiti. Yes, they could fitWelinain at the dock.
This was not the marina in Papeete, but the marina on the south side of the island, further away from the city but cheaper, larger, and more popular with sailors.
Now I had to figure out how to get there. My heart felt like lead in my chest when I thought about sailing to Tahiti by myself. It would be my first overnight alone, covering so many miles. I checked the weather forecast, which was... okay... for the next few days.
I was interrupted by a knock on my hull. I walked up the stairs and found Jonas climbing on board, holding a packet of aluminum foil.
“Hey,” he said softly, and kissed my cheek. “This is from us. Well, really, it is from Marcella, but from us all too.”
“Thank you.” I took the packet in my hands and peeled the edge back, looking inside. “Coconut cupcakes?”
He nodded. “And...” I looked where he pointed and found a husked coconut sitting on my back deck.
I smiled at Jonas. “Did you find a new stake somewhere?”
He tilted his chin out to the small guesthouse on the motu. “I bought it at the bar there.”
“Aw. Thank you, that’s very kind.” I sniffed the cupcakes and looked mischievously at Jonas. “Breakfast?”
He laughed and we went into the salon. I had papers from my planning notes strewn everywhere.
“What is all this?” Jonas took an enormous bite of a cupcake.
“I am trying to figure out where to go. I don’t really want to leave the boat here in Fakarava.”
“Where can you leave the boat?”
“I think... I think I will have to go to Tahiti. This is not secure here, and I would rather be in the marina.”
