“Billy, she's a beaut!”
“Thanks!” Billy grinned as his
older brother slapped him heartily on the back. They stood on the
dock admiring the little boat, bobbing up and down in the water.
“Come aboard,” Billy invited Don,
extending a hand. “I've got to show you her sexy little engine.”
Don couldn't care less about boats or
engines. They were Billy's thing, always had been since they were
kids. But this was the first time in a long time he had seen his
little brother excited about anything, and he was more than happy to
indulge him. So he nodded enthusiastically as Billy listed off the
specs, and gave a low whistle like he was impressed when Billy announced the speed she could hit, though knots meant
nothing to him.
He figured his attempt to feign
interest was poorer than he thought, because after ten minutes of the
charade, Billy's face seemed to fall.
“Aren't you gonna offer a guy a
drink?” Dan chided.
“Of course, of course,” and Billy
hustled him into the cabin, rooting through some cupboards before
producing two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. He poured generously.
“We'll have to get the boys around
sometime soon. Christen her properly, you know? Take her down the
river, a real fishing trip. Maybe take Dad's old guitar with us, what
do you say?”
Don swallowed a mouthful and nodded but
said nothing. It was a nice idea but it would never happen. The
“boys” he referred to were only boys of summers long gone. They
were men now. Johnny's wife had just had their second kid, Lucas was
working in the city and usually only home for a week around
Thanksgiving and Ed Wirth was moving to Ohio for a woman. There would
be no fishing trip to celebrate Billy's acquisition of a small boat.
“Of course,” Don added with a smirk
“This boat has a lot more potential than just getting drunk with a
bunch of hairy, stinking dudes. Girls will love it. You always hear
about how much pussy sailors get!”
Billy gave a half smile but looked away
and muttered that he didn't think so.
Don laughed, and slammed his glass on
the table.
“I'm telling you Billy Boy, this
boat's gonna see more action than the audience at a Steven Segal
double bill!”
Billy wasn't amused. “Ah, c'mon, stop...
Hey, how's mom doing?”
And that was it. Don had pushed too
hard and now the rest of the evening would be spent discussing family
stuff and the superbowl.
Around midnight, Don hugged his brother
goodbye. Billy decided he might as well sleep on the boat, it was late,
he was too drunk to drive home anyway, told Don he should stay too.
Don knew he should, and maybe if he'd been sober he'd
have stayed, just to be nice. But he was drunk and the thought of
staying in that lonely little cabin with his brother and playing
boyscouts was depressing, so he dug his hands in his pockets and
started to stumble home. It was still warm enough and there were
stars. He wondered if Jill was asleep, and wished she was waiting in
his bed for him to cuddle up to. Maybe he could call round to her
place.. nah, it was late, she'd think he just wanted to get laid. He did want to get laid, of course, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted to see
her. Nah, he'd leave it. He could see her tomorrow. He wondered if Billy felt like this
every night. How it must feel, knowing that no, you won't see her
tomorrow. That poor fucking bastard.
For a second, when Billy woke, he
didn't know where he was. White sheets... white sheets... why are
these sheets white? Then he remembered he'd slept on the boat, got up
and stood out on the deck. It wasn't until then, a whole minute after
waking, that he thought of Rebecca. He was used to waking up on the blue sheets she had picked out, being disappointed not to feel her body
next to his, seeing her photograph on his night stand. But this
moring, for an entire minute, Rebecca didn't exist. He had never
known her, loved her, lost her. Until, standing on the deck he
smelled that harbourside smell she had always commented on, and he'd
thought of her, and his heart sank.
