was—at the very least! He thought he was invincible! That was how he had demolished the Grand Inquisitor! But the sea was no place to feel invincible. And she had let this happen! Pure weakness! She had been embarrassed to say, “I’m afraid—and I don’t want to go.”
At that very moment Norman, both hands on the wheel, gave her a devilish look and cried out, “Okay, kid—HANG ON TIGHT!”
With that the growling engines broke into an explosive roar. The roar wasn’t a sound—it was a force. The force went through her body, rattled her rib cage, and shook her from the inside out. No other sense could register. She had the feeling that if she cried out, the cry would never be able to leave her mouth. The nose of the boat began to rise. It came up so high, she couldn’t see where they were headed. Could Norman, at the wheel? Would it do any earthly good if he could? She knew what was going on, even though she had never been on a boat like this before. This was supposed to be the… great moment. The entire boat was riding on its tail. Well, whoopee. This was supposed to be exhilarating. Girls were supposed to scream from the thrill. Magdalena felt the way she had in her early teens when boys insisted on showing how daring they were at the wheel of a car. She had never felt anything but nervous because of the drivers’ blank and empty youth and the pointlessness of their goals as hell drivers. Norman was forty-two, but she felt exactly that way. Oh, blank and empty middle age! Oh, pointless goals! When would this be over? Didn’t Nestor’s Marine Patrol go after fools like this? But the thought of Nestor left her empty, too.
Finally, Norman let up and the nose came back down. He yelled to Magdalena, “How about that?! Seventy-two miles an hour on the water! Seventy-two!”
Magdalena didn’t even try to say anything. She just smiled. She wondered if her expression looked as feigned as it felt. The main thing was not to show so much as a hint of exhilaration. One little hint—and he was bound to try it again. The nose was back down, but the Hypomanic didn’t cut through the water the way other boats out here did… It didn’t glide the way the sailboats did… Look at that one! So big! Could it be a… yacht? In Magdalena’s imagination, a yacht could only be a very big boat with huge sails… On this dazzling day, all sailboats were flashes of white cloth upon a bay… a-dazzle with sun explosions off every little chop on the surface from here to the horizon… not that she could dwell upon any particular part of it for long… Norman’s idea of cruising in his cigarette boat was to go fifty-five miles an hour instead of seventy… still so fast, the boat twitches and skips… and skips along… hypomaniacally bounces… and bounces… The hypomaniac at the wheel skips and bounces over the surface of the water… whips past every craft Magdalena got a glimpse of. A smile of self-awe took over Norman’s face. He kept both hands on the wheel… He loved turning the boat this way and that way… this way to pass oncoming boats… that way to pass the boats he kept overtaking.
Nobody they went past in any direction seemed as exhilarated by the Hypomanic’s wild rush as Norman was. His passenger wasn’t, either. Only Norman… only Norman… People on other boats squinted, glowered, shook their heads, gave the hypomaniac the finger, the forearm, up, up, the thumbs-down, and shouted angrily, judging by the expressions on their faces. The crew of the Hypomanic could not hear a word they said, of course. Certainly not Norman, there at the helm of his cigarette boat. He leaned forward in his upholstered pilot’s seat, living out a happy fantasy.
Then he could resist no longer. Two more times he turned toward Magdalena and shouted, “HANG ON!”… grinning as if to say, “Want more thrills? You’re with the right man!” Two more times he let the throttle out as far as it would go. Two more times the nose went up and the sudden forces drove Magdalena back and deeper down into her seat and made her feel like a fool for getting into this in the first place. Two more times the boat shot forward with hypomanic lust for superiority and showboating. Two more times