That’s your bear’s name?
Yup.
Hello, Caffeine. I’m Gil.
Hello, Gil.
What are you two doing?
We are watching a movie in our heads.
Ha. Is it a good movie?
Yes.
It’s so wonderful to watch you play. You’ve got such a great imagination.
OK.
Just watching you play has made me feel better about my troubles.
OK.
Do you believe that grown-ups have troubles?
Yeah.
But kids have troubles too, don’t they?
Yeah.
Like you can’t have soda or candy or anything. I remember how hard it is to be a kid, and never get to make your own choices or pick your own things. Hostages to fortune, that’s what children are.
If you say so.
Can I come back under here later and say hi?
Nope. I’ll be gone.
Ha, that’s great. I like the way you put things, Juliet. No veneer. And you’re as pretty as your mother. Except you’re not a redhead, are you? Not yet.
That’s when I realized I was wrong about the clouds. They aren’t passive. They are beautifully plastic and expressive. You just have to watch them for a long time. They crossed the sky, large as a continents. The whole mass tumbling and contracting, reaching and resigning, until somehow the cloud had traveled the entire sky and snuffed out the moon.
Juliet splashed across the sea in a new darkness.
It’s simple: In order to see, you just have to broaden your definition of what light is.
There, around the edges of the cloud, was a sweet incandescence.
I thought, I am not alone.
I was wondering if you wanted to talk a bit more about your life on the boat, Sybil. What your day-to-day life was like…Like, did you play with your brother? Did you have chores?
I had chores, sure. Polishing the compass—I liked that. Scraping barnacles. Did not like that. I had a bucket. I filled it with seawater for the dishes, stuff like that. And we did school. Liked that. Crab-eye math. Painting. Writing letters to famous people…
That’s very cool. Sounds like normal life, but at sea.
Yeah.
Were your mom and dad happy on the boat?
Oh, yes. But they yelled sometimes.
At each other?
Oh, yes.
What kinds of things did they fight about?
Vegetables, rocks, the weather. That sort of thing…
What did you do when they yelled?
I singed.
You would sing? That’s a good solution.
Sometimes to Doodle. Baby songs. “I’m a Little Teapot,” that sort of thing. Or I would read. Fox in Socks. Or I would just make up my own stories. ’Cause that’s easiest.
Ha. Well, not easy for everybody.
When tweetle beetles fight, it’s called a tweetle beetle battle.
February 28. LOG OF YACHT ‘JULIET.’ From Snug Harbor. Toward Cartagena. 09° 75.59?N 077° 10.02?W. Time: 4 p.m. Course: NW. Wind: SE 2–3 knots. NOTES AND REMARKS: It is late in the day of our 2nd day of the passage to Colombia. Slow progress. We really need more wind. Juliet & kids restless. Juliet says to me, If I ever agree to read that damned Fox in Socks book again, kill me please. And you can write that in your little fucking diary!
It is hot as hell. Lack of wind makes it feel hotter. We all feel antsy. Then Juliet looks around & she says, w/ a straight face, I want to go for a swim.
My first thought is, A swim? In the middle of the open sea? But then I realize this might give us something to rally around.
* * *
—
The cat was out of the bag. About how Michael really felt about me, at least. My problem was I worried he had a point. Did I love my unhappiness? Was it mine long before it had a cause? I