Chapter 14 #2
“Audrey would never come to the hospital with me, said sick kids made her feel uncomfortable.”
I laugh though I know I shouldn’t. “Sorry,” I say. “But kind of a red flag for a guy who desperately wants kids?”
“I am not desperate,” he says.
“You are, it’s all over you. You reek of baby lust.”
He laughs. “Maybe a little.” He looks out at the waves. “I just want to have something to leave behind. If that doesn’t end up being a family, I still have my work. This restoration project in San Francisco with Kramer Corp, if we can get it done, it’ll last forever. So…” He trails off and shrugs.
I want to explain to him that a building isn’t the same as a child, but I have a feeling he understands that very well.
“It’s probably for the best,” he says. “I don’t think I’d want to be married to someone who’s always looking for a better deal.”
“Do you really think that guy is a better deal? All that chewing tobacco.” I make a face and he laughs.
“I hope she’ll be happy, really. And I’m not just saying that. I’ve known her for a long time. But I never felt that feeling you’re supposed to feel. Like I never thought about her when we were apart. And I never got excited when she called.”
On cue, the Rocky theme song trills. “I know the feeling,” I say, and put my finger up. “Good Sports. This is a recorded line. How can I help you?”
We’re back on the boat and Stewart unpacks the warmer.
Underneath more sliders there’s roasted corn and macaroni and cheese.
Inside a cooler there’s a watermelon-and-feta salad, figs wrapped in prosciutto, pineapple wedges.
A second cooler has water and a bottle of chardonnay.
Gus’s eyes grow bigger with every item pulled out.
“Gladys is a goddess,” Stewart says, laying it all out in front of us. He’s put on a white cap with Marian embroidered in green across the front. It shades his eyes and makes him seem younger.
I put some of everything on my plate. This might be the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten—better than any twenty-five-thousand-dollar steak—and it’s just been served out of valet-transported vessels at the perfect temperature.
I look up and catch Stewart watching me eat.
He might be smiling at the way I’m shoving figs into my mouth like they’ll save my life, but also something’s different between us.
“This is amazing,” Clay says, opening a slider and piling macaroni and cheese on top.
“Gladys is a great cook, all around,” Stewart says. “But there’s nothing she loves more than making a picnic.” He pulls a thermos from the cooler. “Iced coffee?” he asks me.
My mouth is full, so Gus answers for me. “She hates coffee.”
“But thank you,” I add, shooting Gus a look. “And I think I’ve had plenty of everything.”
“Do you do this a lot?” Gus asks between bites.
“Actually, never,” he says. “But maybe I should.” His face is soft, and I think the day off did him good.
“Do you have any cruise ships?” Clay asks.
“Like for people? No,” he says. “Cargo ships, but mostly office buildings now. A bunch of malls that were a mistake.” He stops as if he’s overanswered. “I’d like to simplify things.”
Gus and I share a smile. Gus says, “My mom and I are trying to do that. That was our Valentine’s resolution.”
“New Year’s Day is a bad time to be committing to things,” I say. “We wait.”
“We cleaned out our apartment. Made a bunch of new routines. I have to clean up after Sunday baking,” Gus says, and rolls his eyes.
“You bake?” Stewart asks Gus.
“No, Mom does,” he says. “Only on Sundays at home, but all the time when we’re here. I make pancakes when it’s my turn to make dinner.”
“That’s impressive. I don’t know how to make pancakes,” Stewart says.
I look up at him from my second slider and laugh. “You don’t know how to make anything. Gus can teach you.”
He smiles and looks away to the right so I can see that dimple. “I know how to tie a lot of knots,” he says. “Want to try?”
He leans back to grab the end of the rope that’s around the winch and ties something called a reef knot.
I look away from the spectacle of those hands deftly tying knots and distract myself with the watermelon salad.
Where are the seeds, Gladys? Where are the seeds?
But Gus and Clay want to see how he did it.
Stewart goes below and gets ropes for each of them, and I watch them try.
It must be second nature to Stewart, but he breaks it down into little steps.
I’m surprised by his patience as they follow his exact instructions and watch the knot fall away again and again.
I miss my kindergarteners. This usually happens about now, late June, when the ringing in my ears stops from all that yelling.
“Ms. Brick! Ms. Brick!” I miss their little hands working so hard to make a pencil do what it should.
I miss the way their hearts break over playground things and then heal up so quickly.
There are always a few who crack the code and bring me a book they discovered they can read.
It’s a miracle to teach a kid to do something new, and I’m watching Stewart experience it now.
“That’s it!” Stewart shouts. Gus has tied his rope in an elaborate pretzel shape around the railing. He offers Stewart a fist bump like he does to my dad and then immediately undoes the knot and starts again.