towel, all the while steadying myself against the roll. He didn’t know we were out of sight of land, he didn’t know we had no motor. I envied that. I tried to be cheerful, but I was scared.
That’s when I felt them—there in the middle of the sea—the presence of the ugly angels. The cold wind of their rustling wings. The wan, uncompassionate expressions they wore from their rafters. They came, I should have known, whenever I was scared, insecure; they fed on my shame.
Leave me alone, I said.
Georgie, fingers in mouth, looked at me.
Not you—
I hugged him tight. Then I lowered him into his bed.
When I stood up, I hit my head on the shelf over his berth. Hard enough to see stars.
I would never learn. I would never, ever learn.
Christ. Goddamned Juliet. Can’t get on the damned team. Sybil & I are in the middle of a game of checkers when a strong gust tilts the boat. I hear Juliet thump around in the head. The checkers slide off the cockpit table. Sybil scrambles after them.
Sorry, hon! I shout to Juliet. Did that knock you over?
She shouts something back that I can’t hear.
It’s much more difficult to gauge the wind out here w/out the normal markers. It’s not just the lack of a shoreline. The sea itself is different. So massive. It gives no signs. There’s some communication between the wind & sea that is too private to understand.
I bring the boat closer to the wind & trim the sail. She evens out.
Crap, Michael! Juliet calls from below. The kitchen sink is filled with seawater!
And I’m like, Did you close the seacock on the sink drain through-hull before we left?
Did I close the seacock on the what?
I guess not, then, honey. Well, wait until it drains out. Or have Bosun help you bail the sink. OK?
Bail the sink? she shouts back. With what?
Listen, Juliet, no offense, but I’m trying to sail the boat up here.
No shit, Michael!
Mommy! Sybil says. That’s potty talk.
My wife’s face appears below, framed by the companionway. Her look is dark and accusatory.
Sorry to bother you with domestic matters, she mutters. Captain.
I clutch the wheel for a minute. I just stand there, in the cockpit, surrounded by the sea. Then I don’t know what happens. I march over & slam my hand on the cabin top. Below, staring into the sink, Juliet jumps.
How about this, I say—you come up here and sail this boat. And I’ll bail the sink. I’ll make fucking sandwiches and I’ll cut fucking snowflakes.
Daddy! That’s potty talk.
Juliet looks shocked. She comes to the foot of the ladder.
Don’t swear in front of Sybil, Michael.
Don’t yell at Daddy, Mommy.
Juliet gives Sybil a pained smile. Sybil, honey, why don’t you go listen to a bedtime book with the headphones?
And Sybil’s like, No thank you.
But I can’t stop. Why can’t I stop?
This is the real thing, Juliet! I shout. We are sailing with no fucking power. Excuse my language, Bosun. You have to change your attitude now.
Juliet climbs halfway up the ladder. Where is this coming from, Michael? Are you mad because I left the seacock open?
No. I don’t care about that. I’ve made a hundred mistakes. I want you to sail this boat. For once. To try.
Why, Michael? She’s got tears in her eyes. Why does it matter to you so much?
Because you’ve got to fight back, I say. That’s why.
And then I say the thing I shouldn’t have said.
For years I’ve been watching you be a victim. The things that hurt you happened years ago. But it never gets further away for