theory. I mean our marriage. The arrangement was illogical.
Papa! cried Fleur, on deck.
Daddy, look! echoed Sybil’s voice.
I saw my daughter swing past the wheelhouse, a baby Tarzan on a vine.
Ah, they are flying, explained Amira.
Flying?
On the rigging. The children fly all day long. How lovely. Look at your Sybil. So strong.
Amazing. I laughed. Is that the halyard?
We watched the children orbit the cockpit for a moment, shy in the silence.
When I turned to Amira, she was looking at me. She dabbed pineapple juice from her wrist.
Marriages have failure points, just like boats, she said. You sail a boat through rough weather and the failure points are revealed, yes? Or would you rather not know?
Her gaze was level, kind. I only looked at her.
If you would rather not know the failure points, she said, do not go sailing.
I’m v. curious about how folks stay out here so long. How do they make money? I decided to ask Tomas. He’s a sailmaker. He works when money runs out. Amira has a blog. With sponsors & everything. She writes about the cruising life & cruising w/ kids. Some advertising revenue. They make the bare minimum. This is clear. Enough to stay afloat. But they don’t care. They genuinely don’t want things. Just more time.
Otherwise they are kept very busy by caring for ‘Adagio.’ Tomas says there is nothing on his boat that has not broken. I ask, What about the mast?
And he says, Great, I guess that’s next. Thanks, friend.
He starts joking about how maybe he’ll come over & tear our sail in the middle of the night so he can get some work.
Christ, please don’t, I say, it’s brand new. That mainsail cost me ten thousand bucks.
I tell him, Just between you and me, I am way over budget. I want to make my own decisions but I’ve got a—there’s a guy. A stakeholder. I never should have involved him, but…
Tomas looks at me, waiting to help. He’s such a good person, I can tell. I honestly think sailing purifies people. There’s so much less bullshit.
Never mind, I say. I have nothing to complain about.
You can tell me, says Tomas.
But I don’t tell him. It’s my own fault, having a debt. I hate owing others. I also hate complaining. Complaining is a form of taking.
Maybe I’ll just sell the kids, I joke instead. You know anybody looking for some nice, healthy Caucasian children?
Ha, well there has been a depreciation in value for American children lately. Sorry.
I don’t even bristle, he’s that likeable.
Nobody understands what you are doing in America. We think you have lost your minds. You were a shining beacon, much admired, but you did not like this? So you decide to…what it’s called when you pull down the pants and show your…
Mooning, I say.
You have mooned the world, Tomas says with a laugh.
Do we have a nice ass? I ask him.
No! Tomas roars with laughter.
Just then I see Sybil swinging past the deckhouse. On the halyard!
Tomas says their kids learned to use the vertical space on the boat long ago. They used to hang Fleur from the mast for hours, while they cleaned the deck or did other chores. People would say, Is she being punished? And they would say, No, no, she’s very happy up there.
We watch his older daughter take a turn. She’s almost as tall as her mother. She swings out so far it’s crazy. I think, I would have loved this, as a kid.
I say to Tomas, These kids are so lucky.
People don’t understand sailing families, he says. They think we are dragging the children along. But it would be much easier for Amira and me to live