Except she hadn’t brought my cell from home. I sighed. She was fair, brutally so. She’d left her own behind, too. Time alone on the ocean with no phones meant Mom was stressed out. I didn’t miss my cell phone like the girls on the trail, reaching for them in their empty pockets then whining. But I wanted a K-pop update; music was my lifeline. I’d been having nightmares. And day-mares, too. One day out on the trail I could hardly drag myself out of bag. I’d never been in an American public school, and if the movies were at all accurate, I was not prepared.
Time to chill out was on my must-have list, too. Spending two weeks on a horse had been a dream for me, but I didn’t connect with the other girls at the camp. It wasn’t relaxing and I was never alone. As an African-American growing up in Indonesia, I was used to being the outsider, but I hadn’t realized I would be the only non-white girl on the trail. And I didn’t realize I talked weird being raised by an older white couple that didn’t watch television. If I had been alive in the Old West, I wouldn’t have been adopted by my lovely parents; I would have been their servant. Not the reality check I wanted heading into a mostly white high school.
If that wasn’t enough Mom had been acting weird since she picked me up from trail camp this morning.
* * *
My fellow campers, the blonde California girls, had rushed ahead of me, kicking up the last of the trail dust as they returned to modern times. I hadn’t been in a hurry, ‘cause my butt and legs hurt, and I knew my mom would be exactly on time, not early, certainly not late. The second hand of Gramma’s watch gave her six more minutes.
I scanned the line of cars pulling into the parking lot, not surprised that I couldn’t see her truck.
“Rina!” Mom waved from about ten feet away. Her flowery print sun hat flopped down over her sunglasses.
“Mom?” What’s going on? Her skin looked flushed—splotchy cheeks over skin was too light to tan. A lifetime of her words about how perfect my skin was echoed lovingly in my ears. How long had she been waiting for me? I bee-lined for her arms, letting her sweep me up, not as quickly or as easily as days of old, but still, she was strong. Nordic bones from whaling was her old joke.
She coughed as she set me down, staring at me like she always did. “Rina, I’ve missed you.” There was a pinch in her voice as she tousled my thick head of hair.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Her eyes looked irritated.
Her lips pursed and she let her joy back through. “Nothing’s wrong now that you’re here. Anyone you want to say goodbye to?”
I glanced back at the other girls, hugging their parents and grabbing their cell phones. “Nah.” I would miss Bridey, my horse; I’d given her an apple and a hug.
Mom looked relieved. “Let’s go sailing.” She tugged my pack out of my arms and strode for her truck.
I hustled, my legs still a little shorter than hers. Sailing?
She’d used her first bonus to refurbish the green Toyota so it looked like it had been beamed forward in time. No computer, Bluetooth, power locks or windows, only a radio/CD player, and a manual transmission. A simple vehicle she could work on -- except that she didn’t have time to get her hands dirty with her new job.
As I hauled myself up into the cab, S & M, the Metallica album with the San Francisco Philharmonic, assaulted my ears. Mom didn’t want to talk. Tires spit gravel as she pulled out of the parking lot.
Had she lost her job? At a lull in the wall of sound, I asked, “Want to listen to the radio?” She shook her head. “You didn’t get fired, did you?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “No. Of course not.”
That was one of the things she resented about my father. He’d get fired and then end up getting a better job. Except this last time.
She took deserted back roads toward the marina. We made good time until we hit a railroad crossing, the train heading away, still stopped on the tracks, lights flashing and alarms clanging. Mom slapped her hands on the steering wheel. The truck lurched forward as she weaved between the barriers squirreling the tires as she crossed the tracks.
“Mom!” My heart pounded.
“Sorry, honey.” She giggled strangely, like one of the girls on the trail. “I’m impatient. Don’t you ever do such a thing.”
“Okay.” I gripped the side of my seat and jerked on the seat belt to tighten it.
The loud music continued until we slid to a stop in the gravel of the Free Parking lot. Mom could afford the valet service out front, but she preferred to lug her own gear.
I readied myself for another long haul with my still too heavy pack. On the trail Bridey helped me, but getting it up on her high back was a challenge for my small frame... By the end of two weeks I could do it, but oh, my aching muscles.
“I moved the boat down to this end so we wouldn’t have to haul so much so far. And less people to deal with.”
I didn’t see many people. There were only a few folks puttering on their boats. Was it really Sunday? Usually the docks were teeming with folks trying to get in one last sail before returning to the drudgery of their day jobs. Mom and Dad shared the boat, but they hadn’t sailed it together since the trip where they broke the news to me they were divorcing.
One of the big wheeled movers was on the dock. All I had to do was drag my pack to it and roll it the rest of the way.
“I brought some extra changes of clothes and stuff.” Mom tossed a giant duffel over her own shoulder.
Clean clothes sounded awesome, especially my grubby sailing clothes, patched and worn, too short, but well-loved.
“Make sure the door’s locked.”
“Because someone’s going to steal your pride and joy?”
“You’re my pride and joy. Toyo is an awesome old friend. Most people wouldn’t appreciate him.” She patted the hood. “See you.”
I rolled my eyes as I pulled up the handle and shoved the lock down, slamming it.
She grinned, lighting up like the sun that poked through the clouds behind her. “Be nice to him.”
Not the loveliest day for sailing, but the breeze improved it. I hoofed it to the wheeled cart, gratefully dropping the pack.
Mom added the duffle and shoved the cart forward. “Burning daylight.” She sneezed and wiped it on her sleeve.
“Ew.”
La Dolce Vita floated alone on the outer mooring, sails were out of their bags and the jib lay on the foredeck in the stays, ready to pull up.
She tossed the duffel and my pack across to the boat. Someday I might be that strong, but for now I was still a skinny kid, a late bloomer I hoped.
“Cast off.” She hurried aft and started the motor. “All clear?”
I’d freed one of the lines from the cleat, but the other gave me trouble. “Nope. Gimme a sec.”
“Need my help?”
Hell no. “No, thanks. I got it.”
My hands were used to messing with ropes, but they were also tired. Shoving both ends of the rope toward the cleat I worked them loose, a trick from dad. Pride burst from my energized fingers as I coiled the rope and tossed it across, hopping after it. “All clear.”
I grabbed the stay as the diesel engaged. It chugged, pushing us away from the marina and into the wind. My feet, used to the sea since I could walk, were steady, but not in cowboy boots.
“My tennies in the duffel?”
“Yeah. Get yourself changed so you can spell me.”
I hustled below happy to be tall enough to duck my head to get in the cabin. She’d tossed the duffel down. I might as well get my stuff out of it and into my drawers so she could do the same. I opened the hefty zipper. All my clothes. What the heck? My tennies were on the top, but everything below was mine, too. She must have grabbed everything from dresser.
“Mom?” I hollered, “Why’d you bring all my clothes?”
“I was in a hurry. Wasn’t sure what you’d want.”
She always knew what I wanted. Was my starting high school making her question our relationship? Sheesh. Now I sounded
like my counselor.
“Okay. Thanks.” I lugged the damn thing by the strap down to my berth--a tiny little box with one porthole. It had barely enough room for me to stand, but it was my private space. I pulled on my favorite sailor clothes, an old hoodie from Aunt L’s college days at UW and jeans so short they were capris, their knees white but not torn through. I left the rest in the duffel and returned above deck.
Mom smiled at me, but her face looked sad. I gave her a big hug as I took the tiller. “I’ll take her from here, Cap’n.”
Her hand held mine on the tiller as she returned the hug. I let go, she didn’t. So I held her again. “Whatever it is, Mom, it’s going to be fine.” I felt her breathe deep and exhale.
“I know.” She let me go and turned away, maneuvering into the cabin. “When I get back up, we can turn the motor off and set the sails.”
I breathed deep, too. The sea air swelled my lungs and relieved some of the pressure building up in my brain.
* * *
I licked the last of the jam off my fingers, regretting that there wasn’t another sandwich for dessert. “You got anything else?”
Another package matching the first landed at my feet. Was Mom avoiding me?
“It’s store bought strawberry jam. That was the last of the good stuff.”
“Thanks.” Halfway through I was done. Still, it would be good later.
No other vessels on the horizon. Weird for such a perfect sailing day.
She shoved the hatch open and wheezed onto the deck. “Getting things stowed took more out of me than usual. You leave any sandwich for me?”
“Crap. I thought they were both for me.”
“Watch your language, little sister.” Her quick grin teased me as she pulled out a sandwich for her and peanut butter M&Ms for me. “Your favorite.”
I carefully opened the package, so they didn’t go spilling all over in the bilge. “Sheez, mom, you’re spoiling me. Gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“Spoiling myself, too.” Her hand dove in. “I needed to get away. And your father, too. We both want to be with you, so… He’s meeting us in Santa Clarita. If he can.”
So that’s what was up. Dad wanted in on the last week before school. “Okay,” I tried to not be too excited for her sake. I’d gotten past the wanting them to get back together. If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have held it together so long. Still. They got along, respectfully, most of the time. My counselor talked me through a lot of it and at this point in my life I wondered if all adults were this screwed up. Would I be like that, too? I hoped not.
“If we don’t have our phones, how’s dad gonna get hold of us?”
“Five p.m. on the radio. If he’s going to make it, we’ll hear then.”
We sat in silence as she finished her sandwich and I savored the M&Ms. I shoved the candy in the cleanest baggie and went below to toss the others in the re-use bin. Mom was big on recycling. The radio was off. “Mom? Should we turn on the radio?”
“Nope. Radio silence until 5 pm. Just you and me and the sea.”
“Till we hear from the old man?” I offered as I returned to the deck.
She smiled at my literature reference, but the smile didn’t make it to her eyes.
I stared off at the horizon, then swung up on the stay to get the sails ready. I loosed the ties and cranked up the main sheet, bringing the mainsail full. Then the same with the jib, but halfway up I stopped. Something in the distance caught my eyes. I cleated the jib and hustled below, skipping the steps.
“What is it, honey? Whales?”
I grabbed the binoculars and raced back to the deck. “No. Not whales.” I looked straight at the object on the waves and brought the binoculars to my eyes--a schooner with its sails flapping. No one at the tiller. A U.S. flag fluttered upside down.
“Mom. That boat. I think they’re in trouble.”
“Where?” She grabbed the binocs from my hands. Her jaw tightened as she adjusted the focus. “Write this down. XR71970HTC.”
“On what?” Her tone of voice told me to do it now. I scrambled back inside repeating the numbers out loud. “What’s the flag mean?”
“Distress. I’ll radio it in...”
Distress? What could that mean? “Shouldn’t we stop and--”
“No. I’m not risking your life.”
“Risking my life?”
“It could be a trap.”
I was no stranger to being protected by my parents, but this was weird behavior. “Okay.” We continued on past, I kept the binocs zoomed in even as we passed a hundred feet away. No movement. Freaky.
Mom stared straight ahead the whole time. So much for a nice weekend sail with mom. When the boat had receded in the distance, she went below. Her voice rose above the static. At least she reported it.
By the time she came back up, the wind had died down and the sails were luffing. “What did they say?”
She took the tiller and tried to get some air back in the sails with limited success. “Didn’t get a response.”
“What?”
“I repeated it twice. I’m sure a computer picked it up.”
“What if it didn’t? Is our radio okay?”
“The radio’s fine. Raise the jib to full.”
I raised the jib and sat on the foredeck with my back to the mast. If she wasn’t interested in talking I wasn’t going to be either. The dry salt air stung my eyes, so I closed them and let the sun soak into my until I couldn’t take and checked my watch. “1700 hours, mom.”
She concentrated on keeping the sail full. “Pull in the mainsheet. Bring down the jib. I’m going to let us drift while we radio your father.”
“Can’t we motor while we talk to dad?” The wind had died down anyway, if we were going to make it to Santa Clarita by tomorrow, we’d probably need to.
“No. I don’t want to waste the fuel.”
“But the tank’s full.”
“Rina Jolene-”
I did as ordered. When my second name got trotted out, I did not talk back. She ducked below and listed off our call sign as I finished.
No one answered. She shrugged and gave me a half smile. “Folks are busy. Your father-”
Static popped. “Mandy, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“You’ve got Rina?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Rina?”
Mom handed me the mic. “Yeah, Dad.”
“Not sure if I can make it out to meet you. Some shi... shtuff is going down here at work. I’ll do my best. If I don’t. I’ll be here to talk again tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
“How was camp?”
“Awesome, Dad. Thanks. One of the best birthday presents ever.” Maybe I’d tell him the rest when I saw him.
“Good, I’m glad.”
Behind me, Mom cleared her throat like she had to cough. Then she coughed, tromped up the steps and closed the cabin door behind her.
“Is your mother okay?”
“Yeah. The usual. Seems to have a cold.”
More static on the radio. “A cold?” Another pause. “Me, too.” His voice strained like when he talked to mom.
“Hope you feel better soon.”
“I need to talk to your mom when we’re done. Alone.”
“Okay, Dad. Hey, we saw something weird. A boat in distress. I got the numbers. Mom reported it to the Coast Guard, but didn’t get a response. Can you try?” I gave him our coordinates and the boat’s ID. He repeated it back to me.
The cabin door opened and Mom staggered down the steps. I pointed at the mic and then her. She rolled her eyes and reached for it.
“Thanks, Dad. See you day after tomorrow I hope.”
“Me, too. Rest well in the arms of the sea. I love you, Rina.”
Twice in one conversation. “I love you, too, Dad.
“G’night.” I handed her the mic as she collapsed into the comfy chair. “Start the diesel if you wa
nt,” she huffed.
“Okay. We can fill up when we get to Santa Clarita.”
She nodded, tired. “Of course we can. Go ahead. Can you set the course?”
“Duh. How many times have I done this?”
“You’re right, honey.” She blew me a kiss. “Mandy here,” she barked into the mic as the hatch slammed behind me.
Above decks, the sky had darkened and the weather had further calmed. I started the diesel, glad I couldn’t hear them talking. I set it to run at medium-low RPMs to maximize the fuel and set the course on the autopilot.
I stayed out extra long, watching the stars pop out, as the afterglow of the sun finally faded. A shooting star cut across the gray. “I wish my parents would get their crap together and be happy again.” When the night chill penetrated my windbreaker, I went below, but not before checking the heading and the fuel usage.
I snuck my head in to check on Mom. She was sleeping sitting up. I watched her for a minute, glad she was getting some rest. I crawled into my own bunk and let the rumble of the diesel lull me to sleep.
* * *
The boat rocked softly. Usually I slept well this way, but tonight it woke me. Why was the engine stopped? Between the lapping of the water against the hull and the slight whistle of the wind through the hatch above, I heard something else. Was mom awake?
Then nothing. Maybe I’d imagined it. I slipped from the covers. If she was up, would I be intruding? I stopped, my hand on the knob. Waiting. A sniffle. I turned the knob and stepped out into the light.
My mother glanced up, startled at the table. She’d been crying, trying to do it without waking me. Her cell phone was in her hand and mine lay on the pull-out table text to her, half-covered with a pile of Kleenex. “Mom? The phones?” I heard the accusation in my voice. I wanted to turn around and slam the door, but I knew it never slammed. I grabbed her phone and then mine and shook them at her. “What the...” I growled. “-heck?”
A guilty half smile appeared and faded. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t want to scare you.”
My heart pounded. I didn’t think Mom had ever lied to me. “From what, Mom? The internet?” Another old joke to lighten the mood.
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 25
