When Girlfriends Let Go

by Savannah Page

  I watch my towel flip a little in the wind in the near distance. Andrew moves further along the boat, pulling more ropes and fidgeting with different objects. I look down at the large wheel, paying careful attention not to move my hands a centimeter. Got to stay the course.

  It can’t have been a minute yet, though, and I’m already done with playing captain. I don’t see how this hobby could be that much fun if you’re the one having to steer it and all. Sailing is awesome if it means you get to lie on the deck, paint your toenails, page through the latest Cosmo, and I suppose carve a notch in your I-did-it-in-a-sailboat-on-the-open-seas belt. Sailing’s a luxury hobby for a reason, obviously. But just standing here? And not even with a cocktail in hand?

  I look down at the wheel again and frown. “Baby!” I shout through the cacophonous breeze. “Can we put this on, like, auto pilot or something?”

  “What?” he bellows, still cranking and pulling.

  Suddenly one of the sails begins to shrink, then turn a good ninety degrees. Our course starts to gently shift, and we can’t be more than a half-mile from our docking point in Eagle Harbor.

  Andrew pads his way over, his stark white soles making slippery, sucking noises against the misted deck. “What’s that, baby?”

  “Can I do something fun like the sails? Move them or something?”

  He chuckles and rolls up the cuffs of his pants farther. “All right then.” He slips a looped rope around the wheel and leads me towards the bulk of the sails. “We can do this quickly. First I’ll give you a fast rundown on what each of these parts do.”

  “Okay,” I draw out, not really wanting a Sailing 101 lesson, but what the hell?

  “This here,” he says, hunkering down low and pointing at a thick pole, “is the clew, right at the end of the mainsail here, this big one,” pointing up at the massive, open sail, “and there’s a clew at the opposite end, on the jib, which is that sail here,” pointing at the smaller sail he just angled. “Opposite the clew are the tacks, and then we’ve got the boom here, the…” Blah-blah-blah so it goes.

  My eyes kind of glaze over, and all I can do is stare at my husband and plaster on an amused smile. He’s so excited about all this silly boat lingo it’s kind of endearing. He hunkers down even lower and grabs hold of the mast (that much I know). Folding a hand across it, he looks at me, pulls his sunglasses atop his head, and says through a squinted grin, “Want to have a go around the bow and I’ll explain how the shrouds and spreader work? Real quick?” He looks on at me with eager eyes.

  “I think I was good with steering, come to think of it.”

  He smiles and leads me back to the wheel. “Then you can help steer us into the harbor, okay?” He slips his arms around my waist as I place my hands cautiously on the wheel.

  “Like this?” I ask in a sugary tone, looking over my shoulder at my husband.

  “Just like that,” he whispers. “There you go…” He presses his lips tightly against my cheek, then nods forward. “That a girl. You’re doing it.”

  A loud clap sounds overhead, and the sail—was it the mainsail?—billows open like a popcorn bag slowly beginning to rise in the heat.

  “I’m doing it!” I say excitedly, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet. “I’m steering us in like a regular Captain. Captain Jack!”

  Andrew just keeps smiling, his arms wrapping tighter around me. He kisses the nape of my neck as I begin to take my steering duties much more seriously now that the sails seem to be talking back and the harbor’s growing nearer.

  “I love that we get to spend this time together,” Andrew says softly. He moves one hand from around my waist to the top of my hand. “I love you, Jackie. I miss you. I miss us.”

  “I miss us, too.” I press my body into his slightly and lean my head back onto his chest.

  “This is how it’s supposed to be, baby doll.”

  “I like this,” I say, closing my eyes for a moment. “Just the two of us.” I inhale and exhale deeply. “Exactly the way it’s supposed to be.”

  I squint open my eyes and look up at him. His eyes, which were focused straight ahead at the harbor a second ago, are now locked with mine. An overwhelming sense of safety and security washes over me like a tidal wave as I get lost in his gaze. It’s like he can read my mind, my soul—so intimately connected on so many levels. He doesn’t have to say anything more, and neither do I. We connect. The moment is just right. And, right here and right now, we feel just right.

  No need for words, but filled with an urgency to tell my husband the only thing on my mind, I break the speechless moment to tell him I love him. “I really do, Andrew,” I say in a soft tone. “In spite of everything, I absolutely love you.”

  “I love you, baby,” he says, the scruff of his weekend’s whiskers tickling my cheek as he kisses me tenderly.

  ***

  “I’m going to finish up mooring,” Andrew says, tossing ropes and buoys about. “You can go on in and let them know what slip we’re in.”

  “Huh?” I put on my big, floppy white hat and push back its red polk-dotted ribbon that’s waving in the gentle shore breeze.

  “Just head in,” he says, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  I grab Bella’s carrier, then cram my necessary travel goods into my Louis Vuitton Neverfull GM—magazines, a crumpled mess of the already-tested perfume samples that came with the magazines, tanning oil, cigarettes, cell phone, bubblegum, bottle of Evian, Red My Lips-colored nail polish, oh, and Bella’s doggie treats and portable water dish.

  “Hi, there, little lady,” a white-haired and leather-skinned man behind the counter of the Bainbridge Wharf Marina greets as I walk through the wide-open door. “What can I do ya for?”

  I remove my sunglasses and set my achingly heavy bag and Bella in her carrier on the nearest vacant table, a small, rickety-looking, old wooden thing in the quaint corner of the marina’s café.

  “My husband and I have a boat out there,” I say, pointing towards the harbor.

  “I reckon plenty o’ people have boats out there,” he says with a hearty chuckle, exchanging glances with the other leather-skinned man at his side.

  “Yeah,” I say, rolling with their teasing, “but how many have boats that are captained by Seattle’s very own Captain Jack?” I flash them a toothy grin and wave at my salt-water-kissed face beneath the brim of my hat.

  “You captained your boat, eh?” the white-haired man asks impressively.

  “Yup, and never a lesson in my life. I don’t know what’s starboard, what’s port, what’s a mainhead or a jig.” I take a lumbered seat in one of the creaky chairs. “But I pulled that bad boy in all by myself.”

  The two mens’ eyes have grown large; they’re speechless.

  “Kind of bumped my way through,” I say in a mock-serious tone, and now their eyes are larger, their mouths starting to form small Os. “But I don’t think I scratched any other boats up too badly. Just a little nick here, nick there. Nothing a little nail polish can’t cover up.” I laugh in mirth.

  “Dear god, woman,” the white-haired man’s buddy gasps.

  “I’m pulling your leg,” I say at last. “Although I’m sure I could captain that thing all by myself if I wanted to.”

  They laugh uneasily together, perhaps still trying to come down from an elevated state of panic.

  “Sure, sure,” the white-haired man says, rubbing at his beard. “You know you can take lessons if you’re interested in that sort o’ thing.”

  I peer inside at Bella, and her cheerful little tan and black head pops up. She licks at my Tiffany charm bracelet.

  “Come here, baby,” I say to Bella, scooping her out of her carrier and cuddling her close.

  “Classes begin in the summer,” one of the men says as I bury my face in Bella’s soft fur. “Start in June, another in mid-July, some in late August, even, if weather permits, one or two in September. If you’re interested.”

  “Thanks, boys,” I say. “I’m much more the type
of girl who likes to enjoy the perks of sailing, not sailing itself.” I situate Bella in the crook of my arm and stroke her head gently as Andrew struts through the door.

  He starts conducting whatever business is usually conducted at a marina, so I take the opportunity to give Bella a potty break.

  The sun is fully shining down on the island now; I wouldn’t have thought we’d have such glorious weather considering the windy ride across the Sound. There’s barely a breeze in the air, the place doesn’t look to be particularly popular with tourists right now, and the ferry is making its routine, sluggish way out of the harbor, on back to the bustling civilization of Seattle.

  Bella sniffs delicately about the wild grass and purple and yellow flowers that dot the harbor’s edge. A small flock of seagulls find solace on the fence posts and ropes, some on the cable lines that swoop up and down along the docks. There’s a sweet fragrance in the air—the scent of spring about to arrive.

  Bella trots off a short way farther along the lush patch of lawn, and I follow, breathing in and exhaling deeply, eyes closed for a moment as I say a silent thank you for just what my marriage needs.

  “This is going to be a great weekend, Bella,” I say with confidence. “Best. Weekend. Ever.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Yes! Omigod,” I gasp, clutching my chest. “My god.” I blink long and hard, panting, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’ll take that as a, ‘It was good for me,’” Andrew says with a smirk, rolling back over near me. He places a tender kiss on my jaw. “It was definitely good for me.”

  “A whole new meaning to ‘don’t come a knockin’ when the boat’s a rockin,’” I say, returning the kiss.

  “I should get you out on the water more often.” His voice is husky, sexy. He places more kisses along my jaw, hungrily moving them to my chin then to my lips. He gently bites at my lip. “I thought you had energy and were creative on land.”

  I roll over onto my stomach and push away the down pillow. “Shall we?” I say in a seductive voice as I reach for Andrew’s cigar pouch.

  “I know I’ve told you a million times already,” I say once the cigar is finally lit, “but I really appreciate you taking the time for this.”

  “I can carve out a little time for my wife,” he says with a wink.

  I wince a little at his words, and respond with, “Well taking and carving out time isn’t exactly what you should have to do when it comes to your wife…”

  “Please, Jackie. Not here, not now.”

  “I’m not wanting to fight,” I say hurriedly. “No, not at all.” I take a small puff of the cigar and let the sweet smoke linger in my mouth and on down to my lungs for a contemplative moment. I exhale slowly and say, “I just want you to know how much I appreciate you following through on this…this us time. It means a lot. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Wish I could do it more often,” he says while I take another puff before handing the cigar to him. “But see. What did I tell you?” He rubs with his pinky the top of my bare shoulder, then plants a sweet kiss on it. “A little work on both ends—me being more attentive, you being patient with me—and look!” He surveys the nook of a bedroom. “We’re here, just the two of us, spending quality time together.”

  “No work,” I point out.

  “No work,” he repeats. “Office is left to the office, and this weekend you have my complete and utter attention.”

  I sigh in satisfaction and snuggle up close to him. “My husband all for myself!” I give him a quick kiss on his lips before he brings the cigar to them. “We should do this again soon. Just us.”

  “The coming weeks are really busy for me, Jackie,” he says in a steady note. He takes a long puff of the cigar. “But eventually…”

  “More out-of-town business trips?” I readjust my pillow and rest my head down, curling up closer to Andrew. “Leaving the poor wife home alone? Again?”

  “Singapore’s coming up. At the end of next month.” He sits up in the surprisingly comfortable and roomy bed and wraps the starched sheets loosely about his waist. “It’s a really big deal, babe. I don’t know when I’m going to have a peaceful weekend for a while.” He blows a smoke cloud upwards, out of the opened hatch.

  “I know, I know.”

  He takes another long puff, and his eyes narrow in a sophisticated way, as they usually do when he talks with a cigar in hand.

  I take the cigar from him and take a puff myself. “You realize you’re leaving me to go stag to Robin and Bobby’s wedding?”

  “You know I’ve had this trip cooking for a while now.” He gives me an erudite expression. “It should come as no surprise to you that I won’t be able to attend their wedding. We’ve talked about this, baby doll.”

  “So it’s a for-sure thing?” I say, deadpan. “You’re definitely out of the country then?”

  “Meeting finalized, flights purchased last week.” He examines the tip of the cigar before taking another puff.

  I groan and sink further into the pillow.

  “Let’s enjoy now, Jackie baby,” he says soothingly, focusing on his puff-puff-puuuuff technique.

  “If I show you how I can be even better on the water than on land,” I say with a scheming look in my eyes, “then can you arrange to go with me to the wedding?”

  Andrew tosses his head back and lets out a low, smoky laugh. I love how much deeper his voice gets just after he’s smoked a cigar. It’s all growly and playful.

  “I wish, darling,” he says. He places the cigar in between my outstretched fingers. “You’ll have a great time no matter. All your girlfriends there…you’ll have such a fun time you won’t even notice I’m not there.” He brings a finger to my lower back and begins to trace my large butterfly tattoo. “I can even arrange to have a driver take you and bring you home, if you like.” He kisses the small of my back, then continues tracing.

  “I’ll probably just crash with Lara,” I say effortlessly. “Somethin’ like that.”

  “Isn’t she in Africa?”

  “That’s Emily, babe.” I twirl the cigar in between my fingers and stare at its small embers.

  I want to say, “Maybe I’ll stay with her…all the way in Africa.” I’m so annoyed at Andrew’s upcoming absence. Yet again, he’s leaving town on business. Just when I thought we were in for more romantic and intimate moments together, like now, when the office could be left at the damn office, when Jackie came first and that was that. Rather, I make a hmph sound and place the cigar between my lips, taking a long, slow, and deep pull, closing my eyes and trying to ingrain in my memory how good now feels.

  ***

  Andrew and I have done everything you could imagine on Bainbridge Island this weekend. We had a relaxed breakfast on the boat’s deck, cuddled together under a big fleece blanket, feeding each other strawberries and melon and toasting with mimosas. We’ve walked along the main drag, stopping in clothing stores, shoe stores, and a handful of antique and furniture shops. We even ducked into a Persian rug shop after I pleaded with Andrew to let me have a quick peek. He said the Persian we have in the office that he bought when he was in Istanbul is better and more authentic than anything we’d find in Washington. Sometimes he can be such a bore. All I wanted was to look and gawk at the variety of intricate patterns and use of color.

  We took Bella for a fun frolic along the beach, and we even got to dig for tiny beach crabs. We had to throw them all back into the water, especially once Bella decided they were no longer objects of innocent curiosity but tiny chew toys.

  Our weekend getaway has been fantastic—everything I could have imagined, maybe even more. For lunch we ducked into an old-school American diner where they cook your meal right in front of you. We got a spot front and center at the bar, and Andrew made manly conversation about what it’s like to live on the island, manage a boat, that sort of thing. I eventually pulled out my ratted, lightly waterlogged copy of Vogue and got lost in the world of fashion.

  Once during
lunch, Andrew’s cell phone rang, and I tried my hardest not to get into a tizzy. He’d said he’d set it to Do Not Disturb for our special weekend, but evidently that wasn’t the case this afternoon. It was someone from the office wanting to discuss “very pressing business matters,” but Andrew said he couldn’t take the call because he didn’t have any of the paperwork in front of him. Not because he was out of town, not because he was on vacation, not because he was away with his wife, and not because he said he wouldn’t be bothered with business, but he said he couldn’t manage the call because he didn’t have his work in front of him! Can you believe that? Trust me, it took all the willpower I could summon to contain myself and not erupt into a screaming mess right then and there in front of everyone.

  At least he couldn’t take the call, anyhow.

  And it was just one call.

  “What shall we do for the rest of the day, baby doll?” Andrew asks, swinging my hand wildly as we stroll along the very quiet main street after a filling lunch. “More shopping? Look inside those ratty antique shops you like?” He flashes a purposefully cheesy grin. “Go out for a drink or walk along the beach? You name it. We don’t have to leave the harbor until four.”

  I give a quick tug of the leash to keep Bella from eating a weed along the side of the road. “I honestly wouldn’t mind lounging on the boat,” I reply casually. “Just lying out in the sun.” I look at him, covering my sunglasses-covered eyes. “You think the marina guys would frown upon me doing some topless sunbathing?”

  “Oh,” Andrew says with a throaty laugh, “I don’t think they’d mind at all, and I sure as hell wouldn’t.” He spanks my jean-skirted rear and leaves his hand there, one thumb tucked in the pocket. “But their wives might.”

  ***

  I pull down the back strap of my bikini top and try to reapply some oil without making a mess of the deck or myself or my white suit. Honestly, topless sunbathing would be so much easier.