Boating on the Bay
Nick arrived home from church in the early afternoon and changed into a casual pair of swim trunks, a tank top, and flip flops. Since he was still fighting a nagging headache and a queasy stomach from the day at the beach the day before with Tanner, he thought he’d attempt to sweat out the alcohol by roasting on a chaise lounge by his pool.
“Mom, you home?”
“Yeah, I’m in my office. I’m finishing up a report for the board, due tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. meeting. What are you up to?”
“Just got back from church. Thought I’d sit by the pool for a little while and veg.”
“I should be done in a couple of hours. Do you want to test drive the boat?”
“Love to. Sounds good,” Nick said hoping seasickness wouldn’t get the best of him, given his raging hangover. He certainly wouldn’t be telling his mom about the day before at the beach. She’d be furious if she found out he drove drunk. Things just got out of hand. Stupid moves.
With a towel in hand and an icy soda, he headed to the shady side of the patio and plopped down on a cushioned chaise lounge. He wadded up his towel and stuffed it under his head as he flattened the chaise into a horizontal position. The summer heat and humidity soon overtook him and he fell asleep.
***
Around 3 p.m., his mom woke him. “Nick, you ready for the boat ride?”
“Yeah, sure Mom,” he said as he glanced over at the pool clock. “Wow, can’t believe I slept for so long. This chaise is comfortable.”
“I can’t believe you slept for so long either. You must be worn out. I’ve packed a few drinks and a couple of sandwiches for the boat ride and its gas tank is full.”
“Great,” Nick said as he sat up on the chaise, kicking in the remnants of his headache and its dull, throbbing pain. He pulled himself up and grabbed his sunglasses and towel and followed his mom to the dock. Was there anything else he’d need to bring?
“Mom, do you have the motion sickness medicine?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, can I get a couple of those pills?”
His mom handed him the pills after he climbed onto the boat and he popped them into his mouth, washing them down with a bottle of water from the cooler. There was nothing worse than being seasick on a boat, especially with a hangover.
She’d purchased the yacht with her signing bonus a few months back but it hadn’t been delivered until the day before. It was stunning, spacious, and powerful.
After they unleashed it from the ropes on the dock, she took the captain’s chair and revved up the engine as Nick sat by her side in the passenger seat. They backed out and pulled out into the bay.
“Nothing like a cruising on a Hatteras yacht,” she said, “especially one fresh from the manufacturer with a multi-million dollar price tag. Watch the reactions of the people we pass.”
Nick saw a boat in the distance and his mom accelerated towards it. The boat was small, perhaps around twenty feet. Its three male passengers turned to the Hatteras and waved. Nick waved back and smiled. “I see what you mean Mom. Boat envy. You get a superiority complex in this thing.”
“Well, hopefully not a complex.”
Nick knew how to run a boat too; they’d owned a couple of smaller boats in the past and he used to take them out on the water with his friends. The Hatteras was much larger, though, but the principles were the same. “Can I take a shot at the wheel?” He asked.
“Sure,” she said and they swapped seats.
Captaining the Hatteras was an exhilarating and masculine experience. He could feel his hair blowing in the wind and the sun at his back as they cruised south alongside rows of mansions to the tune of the yacht’s soft purring motor.
“We’ll have to think of a name,” she said.
“How about Liquid Assets?”
“No, sounds like something an accountant would name a boat.”
“How about Rum Runner?” Nick asked.
“Sounds like something a drunk would name a boat. Or the mafia during the Prohibition. How about Lady Luck?”
“Now you’re sounding like something you’re not - either a gambler or Frank Sinatra,” Nick said. “Bob’s boat’s called the DILLIGAF. How about that?”
“No thanks. I know what that stands for. Good joke Nick,” his mom said as Nick laughed at his own humor.
Then she added, “I’ll have to think more. Maybe we’ll get some ideas while cruising.”
“Wait, Mom, how about the ‘Protestant Work Ethic’?”
“Hmmm. I like it. Maybe that’s what we’ll name it. I was afraid you were moving away from believing in the Protestant Work Ethic, you know, with your religious leanings.”
“No, of course not. You can believe in religion and Jesus and the Protestant Work Ethic. They’re not mutually exclusive. There are at least seven statements in the Book of Proverbs that endorse a strong work ethic and frown on laziness.”
“Well that’s encouraging,” she said.
Soon they were cruising along the public portion of the beach in front of hundreds of beachgoers and a handful of restaurants and condominiums. The ride was exhilarating and Nick’s hangover started to subside.
“This boat really handles well, Mom.”
“Well, it’s really a yacht and its width is what makes its ride so smooth.”
They rode down to Anna Maria Island and enjoyed its clear blue waters. Nick could see schools of colorful fish swimming by, along with a few jellyfish and dolphins.
“You see the dolphins jumping. Look over there,” he shouted to his mom.
“Yeah, nice. Dolphins and popcorn clouds. Paradise.”
At that point, Nick’s mind was focusing on the ocean, the boat, the fish, and the beach. Few of his thoughts were devoted to anything else, including anything he’d learned in the church that morning. The hangover was finally gone.
“Mom, thanks for all you do for me.”
“Thanks Nick. I’m sure you’ll own your own Hatteras one day. You have success in your genes.”
Off in the distance, Nick could see another Hatteras. He was traveling faster and was soon able to make out its name: “I’ll take a Scotch.”
“Nick, that’s the governor’s yacht!”
They approached a bit closer and were now riding about four yacht lengths behind. Nick fixed his eyes on the governor, who was at the wheel wearing a fishing shirt and a baseball cap. His outfit only partially obscured his carrot-colored hair and Scottish complexion.
Facing forward as he ran his yacht, Nick confirmed his identity when he turned towards the woman to his left. The woman was wearing a red bikini, which contrasted her milky white skin as stripes contrast one another on a candy cane. Or perhaps a Coca Cola bottle, as her hourglass figure more resembled the curves on a Coca Cola bottle. She was neither too heavy nor too thin, but womanly, yet with a protruding belly. Possibly pregnant.
“Definitely not the governor’s wife,” Nick said.
The governor put his arm around the woman, gripping her at the top of her shoulder and drawing attention to her dark, bouncing ponytail. They stood closely for a short time before she moved away and walked towards the back of the boat, kneeling down to get something on the floor.
“Definitely pregnant,” Nick said.
“Uh huh,” his mom responded.
As if she could hear them, she looked up at Nick and his mom and smiled with a wave. Big smile.
Nick waved back. “Pretty lady,” he thought to himself.
“Nick, slow down. I don’t want him to see us. He must have gotten his mistress pregnant. Again.”
Nick slowed their yacht down and moved away from the “I’ll take a Scotch.”
“Mom, you knew he had a mistress? Who is she? Why would you support him in a fundraiser?” Nick stared at the woman who was slowly fading off into the distance.
“I support his causes, not his personal life and I have no problem separating the two. I don’t know who she is. No one does. This is all hush hush.”
“Mom, if he can’t keep his own house in order, how can he be expected to keep the state in order?”
“Nick, almost all of the politicians out there have a certain sort of moral flexibility when it comes to their personal affairs. I’m sure his opponent suffers from the same vices.”
“That’s sad, Mom.”
“It is. But that’s the world we live in.”