23. The Boat Parade
THE BOAT PARADE
LARS
C heating for once with an engine, the Lauder made its way around the line at the new Miami Marine Stadium. The place was transformed thanks to community preservation. What was usually a powerboat venue now hosted the smallest dinghies to the grandest of cruisers attempting to win a barrel of rum best described by my stepmother as “awful swill”. It wasn’t about the liquor. It was about the bragging rights.
Tonight, I was the turncoat helping my fake girlfriend in her quest for a win. I was not a Christmas person. I found all her decor a bit garish, but seeing Rose excited was nice. Her childlike adoration of a simple light show was nothing short of adorable. The woman didn’t have to work to worm her way into my heart. If she hadn’t convinced me she was sweet before, her love of Christmas music did now.
We were three boats behind my stepfather’s remarkable catamaran. It was fabulously decorated—by professionals. This was cheating, of course. Hiring a professional lighting crew was much more than most of us could compete with. Though, we had tried.
Rose navigated while I communicated via mobile phone with the MC’s office. She was impressive at the helm—undaunted. And, to my surprise, neither of her brothers fought her for the right to play helmsperson. The man in the booth would cue our music once we made it in front of the stadium proper. We stopped at the organiser’s boat, and Rose cut the engine.
“Cue it,” I said, both for Rose’s benefit and mine.
I hit the button to cue the lights when the music switched on. Rose and I held our breath, hopeful that the lights would work. To the amazement of her family, the lights worked according to plan. A cheer rang out as people realised what we were up to. There was much more interest in our ship than the big, impressive ones before us.
We had the Christmas spirit they lacked, much as I hated to use that term.
“It’s working!” Rose declared excitedly.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “The Raspberry Pi is working.”
“I still have no idea what that means,” Rose noted. “But it’s brilliant.”
I wasn’t about to get into the weeds or discuss Linux. No one cared but me. I sometimes wish anyone understood me. At least Rose humoured me. That was more than I could say for my family, who seemed to immediately resort to “That’s nice, Lars” before moving along. I only wished I could respond in kind when they had a tech problem, and I had to play end-user support.
We pulled out all the stops. The lights alternated, twinkling gloriously. The Santa Claus and reindeer on the bow waved and nodded in time. Everyone was lit up with stupid necklaces Rose insisted we wore. I was sad now that I’d asked my brothers not to take photos of us from the stadium. I’d worried I’d be mortified. Instead, all I wanted was to remember this.
Tomorrow, the Rum Runner bookended this trip. Rose would return. I knew I’d see her again—we’d talked about it—but not for a while. This was so much fun. In truth, I wished it wasn’t ending tomorrow night. Sappy as it was, all I wanted for Christmas was more of this beautiful woman and her cheerful persona.
The song ended, and we bowed. I don’t quite know why. We just all felt it was a fitting end. I went to the stern to shout down.
“You good, kid?”
Jack waved back from her dinghy. We’d towed her ever-so-slowly from the marina.
“Yes!”
“Pull up,” I said.
Rose slowly pulled the boat forward, only about ten feet, before cutting the engine again. I again communicated with the guys in the stadium. They played an upbeat French song that was apparently “all the rage”. That was probably lost on the audience, but I loved watching Jack react. She’d worked hard to program the thing to music and learned much about coding.
When the song cut, she shouted, “Let’s get a move on!”
It worked. We’d all survived. It was time to head back out of the stadium. We now had to idle and wait for further direction. The stands would hear the result first, but it probably wouldn’t carry out to us. A powerboat would deliver the news to any in the top five.
“I don’t care if we win,” Rose said. “I just wanted to spread some cheer and have some fun. So, mission accomplished.”
Meanwhile, I wanted to trounce the professionally-decorated monstrosities. I rubbed her back instinctively. Everything came easy with that now. We could deny there was something real there, but it was a farce. I knew we cared for one another— whether that translated into a proper relationship or not. This wasn’t just about the sex.
“I bet we will win,” Amara said. “It seems like a good omen!”
“Maybe,” Rose said. “I am not getting my hopes up.”