by Karen White
I released the main sheet about twelve inches for slack on the boom, then moved to the middeck to hoist the mainsail. As I walked toward the boom, the boat bumped over some waves, and I lost my balance for just a second, because I’d forgotten to keep one hand on the boat like my dad had told me to do about a thousand times. I was glad he wasn’t there to see it and yell at me, and I didn’t need him to. I figured almost falling off the boat would be a good enough reason to try to do better.
After a deep breath, I hoisted the main, checking to make sure it was flat without any creases. Satisfied that the shape looked good enough, I walked to the bow, holding on to the boat with one hand this time, to make sure the jib was ready to roll out. I felt like that guy in the movie Titanic, except I wouldn’t be so stupid as to let go with both hands at the bow of the boat just to tell the water that I was king of the world. I went back to the cockpit and unfurled the jib and watched as it caught the wind, pushing my boat across the waves.
I was sailing close to the wind and heeling slightly when I noticed that the water had taken on a darker texture. I felt a bubble of something like fear explode in my chest as the boat began to take on a little speed, heeling steeply enough that I could hear the fenders in the cockpit tumbling over each other and hitting the opposite side with a thud. I looked up at the sky and my mouth went totally dry. Half of the sky almost looked like night, and the black clouds were rolling toward me.
I wasn’t scared yet, but I knew that I needed to turn around quickly to head back to the marina. I prepared to tack, trying really hard to ignore the blackening water and darkening sky around me. I picked out my new point of reference on the land to steer toward and got ready to tack by making sure the jibsheets were uncleated and ready to run off the winch. I directed the autopilot to tack without any problems and released the jibsheet, trying not to think too much about how far away from land I was.
I was getting ready to tack again when a sudden gust hit the boat hard enough that it sounded like the slap of a hand. I swear I thought the bones in my face were rattling from the force, and it occurred to me for the first time to think that my daddy being angry with me might not be the worst thing about being on the boat today without his permission. The boat rolled violently to a sharp angle, straining the small electric motor of the autopilot as it fought to control the course.
The force of the wind had knocked me down in the cockpit, my knees hitting the hard seats and hurting worse than when I had jumped off Richie Kobylt’s diving board and hit the board on the way down. The boat was heeling almost straight out of the water, making it hard to climb around in the cockpit. I could almost hear my heart beating in my chest when I saw that my point of land reference was gone, and that I was facing toward open water now. I blinked, feeling like I just stepped off a roller coaster and couldn’t remember where I was supposed to be.
A beeping sound came from the stern and I looked back to see a red light blinking on the autopilot. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t good. Shit. It didn’t count as a bad word because I hadn’t said it out loud, but I felt a little better after thinking it. If I could just douse the sails first, then I could turn off the autopilot and steer my way back to land. Getting down on my hands and knees so I’d have more balance, I crawled over to release the sheets, my knees hurting me so bad that I felt tears prick my eyes. I wiped them away with my sleeve just as I figured out it wasn’t just the pain that was making me cry.
I spied the jibsheets and blinked for a moment just to make sure I wasn’t imagining anything. Daddy had once told me about something called “panic,” and I wished that he was there so I could tell him in person that I was pretty sure I knew what it was now. The jib had been backwinded when the boat had rounded up through the wind, and my only hope now was to release it. I struggled to hang on to the sloping cockpit as I struggled to reach the cleat. I could only use one hand since I had to hang on to the boat with the other, but my hands were wet and cold and kept slipping on the metal grip. I stretched out my fingers as far as they could go, barely grazing the line with my fingernail, and tried unsuccessfully to pry it up off its cleat but instead bent my fingernail backward, breaking it off. For a moment I thought I saw stars in my eyes from the pain. I pounded the deck with the palm of my hand only because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
The wind increased to a howl—something I’d never heard before on a boat and something I definitely didn’t want to ever hear again. The autopilot continued to beep, and I looked at it the way I think a fish looks at you as you pull it out of the water on your hook. I started to shake then, knowing that I had no control over the boat. The boat heeled even more under the shouting wind, and I might have shouted, too, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sound as the wind raced through the old sails, shredding them as easily as I could poke holes through a tissue. I watched as water came over the side rail and sloshed into the companionway and into the cabin below.
With the boat taking in water, I knew that it was only a matter of time before it capsized. What I didn’t know was how long it would take. I was soaked through now from the rain and shivering from the cold, and I felt like a baby because I wanted my mama. I guess there’s always a part of a person that will want his mama no matter how old he gets. I was real scared now, figuring I was about to die and how I wished I had told everyone that I loved them. And I wish I could have told Mama that I had forgiven her. I hadn’t realized that I had until I’d stepped on the boat, remembering how she once held me close when I was almost too small to remember, and rocked me to sleep. I closed my eyes and my thoughts began hopping about in my head, starting with planting the orange tree with my mama and ending with how I’d never had a puppy even though my daddy’s a vet.
My eyes popped open as the boat tilted more, and my hand slipped, making me scramble with my hurt knees to grab hold of something. My hands slipped once, then twice, until my frozen fingers finally caught hold of the companionway. I saw the cabin was halfway filled with water, and that was when I remembered the life jackets in the locker down below. I didn’t have much time now, as the water had begun pouring in pretty fast, so I reached my hand inside the locker and grabbed the first jacket my fingers touched. I quickly stuck my arms in it, taking turns holding on to the stairway. I struggled to get my arms in the holes, which seemed much too small, and then with the fasteners in the front, squeezing them across my chest and unable to get them to meet. As my feet became submerged in the icy water, I realized that I had grabbed a small life jacket, probably the one I had worn two summers ago and since outgrown.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came. Or maybe it did. The ripped sails and rigging jostled in the roaring wind as the growing waves slapped at the boat with more and more anger, blinding me with pain and fear. I closed my eyes, hoping to see my family once more, but pretty sure I wouldn’t. I figured this would be the time to start praying and thought about my great-grandfather’s highlighted Bible, and the twenty-third psalm. I really suck at memorizing things but I figured God would give me some slack, considering. The Lord is my shepherd, I began, then stopped because I was crying too hard. I was crying because I figured I was going to die, and crying, too, because I was a coward for not speaking the truth before it was too late. I should have loved my mother enough to trust her with telling the truth herself. I closed my eyes again and prayed this time to be given a second chance; and I swore that I would never take a stupid boat out by myself ever again.
“Gil!”
I opened my eyes, blinking back the sting of the salt water, wondering if I’d imagined the voice.
“Gil!”
The waves were high enough now to be hitting me in the face, and I knew it would only be minutes before the spreader tips and the mast were below the surface. I pulled myself up to the side rail and waved my hand, hoping they’d see the bright orange of the life vest.
“Gil—we see you. Hang on. I’m coming to get you!”
Mama! I
could barely make out the medium-sized motorboat that I recognized as Mr. Bonner’s rocking in the high waves near my sinking boat, and I almost fell off then as my knees inside my soaking-wet jeans turned into jelly. I opened my mouth again to shout, and ended up choking on a mouthful of salt water. I waved my hand again so they’d know I’d heard. I could make out two people on the boat, and I knew that one was my mother and my knees almost gave way again.
They drew alongside as close as they could get without bumping into me. “Can you get to the back of the boat?” Mama stood on a swimming platform at the rear of the motorboat, her blond hair almost black in the rain, but I recognized her just the same. Aunt Marnie had been at the wheel but came back now to stand next to Mama.
I looked toward the stern, trying not to notice the steep angle of the deck, and nodded. Even I could tell that it was probably the safest place to get off the boat. Slowly, ignoring how cold I was and how slippery the metal railing felt under my numb fingers, I made my way to the stern. I tried very hard not to think of the last time Mama and I had been on a boat and what had happened. Things had changed. I think it had something to do with the mural she’d painted on the wall of her studio, as if she were trying to figure something out. And I think she had. If I hadn’t known it before, I knew it now, because Mama was here to save me.
Mama yelled, “Don’t move! I’m coming for you, so wait until I tell you to jump, okay?”
I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t see that my life jacket was way too small. But I was a good swimmer and had the Cub Scout badge to prove it.
Aunt Marnie moved the boat a little closer, fighting the waves that kept tugging it away. Mama jumped into the water and I could see her below me, moving up and down with the waves. She shouted up at me, “I want you to jump right to me—it’s not very far. Get ready to go when I count to three!”
I took deep breaths and listened as Mama called out the numbers.
“One! Two! Three!”
Taking a deep breath, I jumped into the frigid waves, the boat shuddering under my feet as the mast disappeared beneath the darkened water, exposing the hull. A large wave must have hit the boat as I jumped so that I landed farther away from Mama than I was supposed to. The large waves were pushing me farther and farther out toward open water.
“Gil!” I heard my mother scream as I rose up on a wave in time to see her dive under a large swell. She emerged a few feet from me, and I saw that her teeth were chattering at the same time I noticed she was smiling. “It’s okay, Gil. I’m going to get you to the boat and you’ll be fine.”
Aunt Marnie stood at the back of the motorboat, holding a tethered life preserver. “Diana—take this.”
The ring sailed over the waves and landed just a few feet from me. I reached out my hand to grab it, but a large swell swept it back in the direction it had come from. I watched as Aunt Marnie began hauling in the line to try again, and knew as I watched her that it couldn’t help us and that we couldn’t wait for her to try again.
Mama grabbed hold of my life jacket, and her smile slipped as she must have realized how small it was. It was then that I noticed she wasn’t wearing her own life jacket and that mine could barely hold me up and definitely not the two of us. We would have to swim together, not relying on anything to keep us on top of the water. She began tugging on me, and I kicked hard to help propel us both toward the motorboat. We were swimming against the waves, and no matter how hard I kicked, the motorboat seemed farther and farther away. Aunt Marnie was on the swimming platform now, calling for us, and I tried to kick harder but I was too cold and tired and wanted to just give up.
“Come on, Gil,” my mother yelled to me, tugging on my jacket. “We can do it. It’s just a little bit farther.”
I was so numb and tired, I couldn’t even nod to let her know I’d heard her.
“Gil, we’re there. I just need you to grab on to Aunt Marnie’s hand for me.”
I nodded, seeing Aunt Marnie’s face above me with her hand outstretched. I knew if I could grab on to something, Mama wouldn’t have to hold me up anymore, and I stuck my hand out and grasped the plastic step of the ladder. Surprise registered in my frozen brain that I was holding on. Aunt Marnie grabbed the back of my jacket and began hauling me up, almost dropping me as the unfastened jacket started to slide off my arms. With one strong shove, she moved me to the floor of the boat, then turned back around to the platform.
“Diana—give me your hand.”
I struggled to a stand behind Aunt Marnie and watched as my mother reached her hand out of the water, her skin as white as a sail.
A huge wave lifted Mama, and for a moment, she was even with the deck. I remember her eyes widening with surprise as it seemed she could just take a step and end up on the platform. But then the wave slammed down, and I watched as her head went down with it, hitting the edge of the swimming platform with a loud crack.
“Mama!” I screamed.
I ran to stand next to Aunt Marnie, avoiding the pink stain on the edge of the white platform, which vanished as a wave washed over it. There was no sign of my mother as we looked out into the water.
“You stay here, Gil. Do you hear me? I’m going in but I’m not letting go of the life preserver, okay?”
Off the port side of the boat, my mother’s face floated to the surface. The water rinsed the bloody gash that ran across her forehead, but her eyes were open, and they seemed to be looking for something.
“Aunt Marnie—over there!”
Aunt Marnie swam to the spot where I was pointing. I didn’t let my eyes off my mother, and she kept looking at me, too. “Mama!” I shouted again, trying to get used to my mouth forming words. “Aunt Marnie’s coming. Hang on!”
Her eyes were drifting shut as Aunt Marnie struggled in the waves, getting closer but still so far away. “Hurry, Aunt Marnie—hurry!”
My mother was trying to swim, but her arms were too slow, and I could see she was hurt and tired. I remembered praying for second chances and wondered if there were any limits on how long a second chance could last. I leaned over the railing as far as I could go. “I love you, Mama. I never stopped. So please, please hang on!”
Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, and she looked right at me as if she had finally found what she was looking for. She moved her lips, but I couldn’t hear what she said, and then, just like a person closing a door, she shut her eyes like she was going to sleep and drifted beneath the waves.
“Mama! No, Mama!” I ran to the edge of the swimming platform.
“Don’t come in the water, Gil—I need you to stay on the boat!” Aunt Marnie’s voice was broken by the wind, but I knew what she said made sense. If we were both in the water, there was a good chance that nobody would be able to get back on board.
I stared out at the empty spot of water where I’d last seen my mother, and I thought then of the time when I’d been very small and had been lost in the grocery store. I’d run down all the aisles shouting for my mother, believing that she’d left me and that I couldn’t stand thinking that I might have to live without her. I felt that way now as I pressed myself against the railing, looking for a pale face or a flash of her brown jacket, but all I could see was cold black water, the edges white and bubbly like curtains folding themselves around something precious.
Aunt Marnie reached the spot where I continued to point to show where I’d last seen my mother. She frantically looked around her, then began to undo the fasteners on her life jacket, and I felt myself grow even colder as I watched her let go of the life preserver and dive under the waves to search for my mother.
I stood there for a long time watching Aunt Marnie dive again and again. I couldn’t hear her, but I knew she was crying. The life preserver had drifted away, and I’d already pulled it in to get ready to throw to her when I saw that she was too tired to dive anymore.
“Aunt Marnie—here!” I tossed it to her, using everything I’d ever learned in the backyard of my house throwing a baseball to my dad, and it
landed within arm’s reach. She grabbed it and I began hauling her toward the boat.
When she’d climbed on the platform, she reached for me, and we hugged each other in the rain while we both watched the troubled waters around the boat, waiting to be sure that Mama wouldn’t be coming up to the surface again.
Finally, Aunt Marnie kissed me on my forehead and brought me down to the cockpit, where she threw an itchy blue blanket over me to try to keep me warm. Then she went back to the wheel and headed toward home. I held on to the side of the bunk to keep from being knocked off as my teeth continued to chatter, long after I had warmed up.
It wasn’t until we were almost at the dock that I figured out what Mama had said to me the last time I’d seen her. I love you, she had said. I said her name out loud again, liking the way it sounded, and then I cried like the baby she had once rocked in her arms until we reached the marina and the safety of home.
EPILOGUE
For all at last return to the sea—to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the ever-flowing river of time, the beginning and the end.
—RACHEL CARSON
Marnie
Spring blossoms early in the Lowcountry. The first rains of March drenched the dormant seedlings and fertilized the coastal estuaries, feeding the tidewater plankton and algae and bringing hosts of hungry marine creatures back to the wetlands. The fiddler crabs and periwinkle snails returned to populate the mudbanks and to feed and mate, while the snapping shrimp began their nightly rhythm, a staccato bass underscoring the sounds of the tree frogs and crickets as they made their marsh music.
It was the ceaseless cycle of life, death, and rebirth, and I relished it all this spring more than before, the greening of the marshlands like a benediction to me. For all of us, really: for Quinn and Gil, and my grandfather, too. We had moved out from under the shadow of Diana��s illness and the darkness it created in all of our lives, and we were now ready to banish the shadows from the corners.
