Page 68 of The Sailor in Polynesia
Twenty-Five
Two days later I was at my parents’ house. The day prior had been Crackers’s service. Crackers’s kids—all seven of them—had each gotten a chance to speak. Her friends from church and bingo had kept all the family busy, shaking hands with the adults and pinching the cheeks of the kids. My cousin Leo had booked a private room at an Irish pub afterward, and all of us grandkids had gone out and swapped stories. While the ones with kids had trickled out as the evening progressed, the rest of us with no obligations at home stayed out far too late.
Thus I was now nursing a hangover in my mother’s kitchen.
James, also hungover, and I had barely made it over in time for the end of Family Breakfast, the last meal we all had together to say goodbye before everyone left. Dawn’s family was first to go, as they had a flight to catch back east. Tyrell, who’d barely strung together six words the entire time I was there, asked if he could come visit me for spring break. Dawn’s eyes had widened behind him.
“It’s a lot like camping,” I’d said.
He’d looked at me thoughtfully. “But there are beaches, right?”
“Yeah.” Dawn had glared at me over his shoulder. “I’m not really sure where I’ll be this spring, but why don’t you discuss it with your parents and email me?”
That had placated both of them, and with hugs and kisses dispensed, they all took off for the airport. Hunter and his kids drove south a few minutes later, and with their cousins gone, the Seattle faction of my niblings dejectedly trudged back to their respective houses.
Mom sat James and me down with mugs of strong coffee at the kitchen bar and went about setting her kitchen to rights. She grabbed a plate with a few pieces of bacon left on it and handed it to us. “Finish this.”
That was also how James and I dispatched the last biscuit and pieces of fruit. The coffee and food did the trick, and I was feeling much less queasy. We joined Mom and helped put the kitchen back in order.
No sooner were we done than Mom started pulling out baking supplies.
“Mom, what are you doing?” James asked. “We just cleaned.”
She shrugged at him. “Sean has a soccer game this week. I told Miranda I’d make cookies.”
Exasperated, James stomped down the stairs to clean the basement.
Mom watched him disappear and hummed. “Jonas is handsome.”
I choked on my coffee.
“He’s the one in the video, right?”
“Yes, Mom, he is.”
She handed me a bowl and a measuring cup before cracking an egg into the mixer. “Two cups of flour. You’ll see him when you get back to the boat?”
“Yeah, he’s staying onWelinaright now.”
She nodded. “Are you changing your plans because of him?”
“My plans?”
“You said you didn’t know where you were going to be in the spring.”
“Oh, right. Jonas’s boat is moving west to get to New Zealand by cyclone season.”
She cocked her head at me. “And you’re still planning to stay behind in French Polynesia?”
“Yeah, it’s a good place to hang around for a while, get used to being by myself. But spring break is right around the shoulder season. I should be ready to head west myself then, and I would need to be flexible with my schedule.”
She sighed. “I don’t want you to miss an opportunity to be with someone because you don’t think you’re ready. You’ve been a sailor all your life. You were born ready to sail in the islands.”
“Mom, come on. Jonas is great, but...”
When I didn’t finish my sentence, she paused and stared at me. “But?”
I blew out a sharp breath. “People have... people have expectations, right? Like Dad, who’s so supportive of me sailing by myself. It’s great that he doesn’t want me to give up my dream, and I don’t want to disappoint him. But, sailing solosucks. Where’s the fun of sharing an experience with someone you love? I don’t want to give up on my dream, but it’s solonely. And it’s not a good solution to sail off into the sunset with someone because you like them. I mean”—I raised my arms out in a what-the-fuck gesture—“I know what it’s like to sail with someone you know and love and look how that turned out.”
