A Watery Tombstone for Well Laid Plans

I hate The Sea, with a passion. Its…wet…cold…salty and everything I dislike. Its unpredictable…and I hate unpredictable. The Sea is also Unknown. We don’t know what’s in it, not at the deepest depths at least. I’ve watched enough movies to know: Nothing Good Comes From The Sea. Which is ironic seeing as… I’m in the middle of the ocean.

I do not want to be, but I am. And I hate it. It’s windy. Windy is dangerous… especially on this rickety old boat. This disgusting boat… in the middle of an even more disgusting Sea. My grandfather would kill me if he knew I was talking about his boat like this. Charlene. It’s named after my mom… or that one song by Anthony Hamilton. But then again, maybe my mom was named after the song…or the boat. It’s irrelevant anyhow…like the age-old question of whether the chicken or the egg came first. The obvious answer is the egg… a chicken can’t be hatched without being formed in the egg. However, it’s still irrelevant…and stupid.

Anyhow, like I was saying this boat is my grandfather’s pride and joy. Was. It was his pride and joy. And for some unknown, odd, and stupid reason, he gave it to me. ME of all people. I hate the boat and The Sea. It’s unsafe… and honestly unsanitary.

I should have said no. To the whole thing. My grandfather giving me the boat, taking the boat…and now… using the boat. But it’s kind of hard to say no to a dead man. My cousin used to say it’s because I’m a people pleaser. When I asked my mom what that meant, and she said that it meant that I wanted to help people… a sign I was a good person. I doubted it… so I looked it up. It said, “People Pleaser: a person who feels a strong urge to please others, even at their own expense.” She wasn’t wrong… but she didn’t tell the whole truth… honestly… she barely explained it. At that moment I learned that One: Mothers can lie, Two: my Mother had lied to me, and Three: the definition of a people pleaser. I tried to grow out of it… and for the most part: I did! But for certain people… not so much.

My grandfather is one of those people… he could get me to do things most people could not. For example, I hated public speaking, so he forced me to be in situations that required public speaking. Now I’m fine with it. He also taught me many other things. “Beneficial Skills”, he told me. How to tie knots, how to start a fire, how to make signal fires, why it’s a good idea to always carry a pocketknife, matches and a handkerchief with you. Random things. Navy things my dad told me. Wood worker things my grandmother said. Senile things my brother would jeer.

It doesn’t matter; those teachings won’t help me now. He can’t help me now. I’m in the somewhere of the Pacific Ocean for crying out loud. Well… I’m about 13 miles from the shore… or 27… maybe more, maybe less… I’m unsure. That’s one of the things I never bothered to pay attention to. The Sea. I mean why should I? I hate it. So why would I be on the “open sea” as my grandfather would call it?

Honestly, I don’t even know.

That’s not true actually. I know the exact reason I’m out here, all by myself, in this boat that could fall apart at any moment, in The Sea, where she could swallow me whole if she so desired. It’s a stupid reason really. Long story short: I said yes. Idiotic… something I never should have done.

I should be at home… prepping to fail my calculus test tomorrow. But then again, if I die in the sea, I won’t have to take it. And Fail. But instead, I said yes to this stupid little dare. “Sail to Fisher’s Island and back!” my brother said… I didn’t want to but then my brother’s friend followed with: “She won’t do it… because she’s a wuss.” He said it so matter factly…so bluntly. Like it was common knowledge… like he was simply talking about the yesterday’s weather. I mean… he didn’t even live with us, and he said it.

It was offensive….and true.

He’s twelve…and what he said struck a nerve. I mean… I’m five years his elder. I have a license. I can drive. I mean… I can take risks.

I know for a fact: I AM NOT A WUSS!

So, I let my ego get ahead of me. I barely knew what I was saying… I was consciously speaking…from my subconscious… or vice versa. I don’t know how, I just said it. And then… I grabbed my waterproof boots, my trusty Safety Pack, some food, a book, and a flashlight.

A mistake really. Pride is my biggest enemy… my dad used to say that. He still does… not as often at least. My mom said I got it from my dad… which is ironic because he says I get it from my mother. If anything, the pride in our family feeds off each other… my brother at the highest of course. But maybe I’m biased… after all it is his fault that I’m floating in the middle of the powerful Sea in this rickety old boat that’s centuries old.

I should have said no… but I didn’t. Clearly. It’s too late to turn back… I committed to it… and I can’t back out now. I mean…I’m already too far out in the ocean… too far from the shore. Too far from home And of course… too far from Fisher’s Island.

Everything about this night is wrong. It’s getting dangerous… my grandfather used to always look to the sky and murmur some old Sailors Adage. To no one really… about nothing really. I never paid attention to it. That is another mistake. A Big One.

I have never had a problem with learning new things… I am a Learner. I love learning about everything. History, Art, Food, Culture… anything and all things under the sun and even past it. But the one subject I never cared for… never thought I needed… was any kind of sailor knowledge… adages, codes, tricks and tips. I always found it useless…whatever it was. Afterall… I hate The Sea. And I ever thought to try.

One of my many mistakes in life. Just like falling into the pitiful trap of sibling rivalry and Pride. Just like accepting this disgusting boat. Mistakes I should have never made. But it’s too late.

I hate The Sea. And I hate being at the mercy of her power. Swelling waves, ruthless tides, and dangerous winds. I hate Her unpredictability. Her uncertainty. Her Lies. She pretends that all is well and all is good… and it is not. It’s always too good to be true for her… She has to make everything impossible. Deadly.

I can’t believe I got goaded into going through with this.

This was the downfall of my life. This is where all my plans fail. This is where I meat my end… in a watery grave. Tombstones that disguised themselves as beautiful waves in the night.

Nothing good comes from The Sea. And I will be added to Her.

So much for studying. So much for staying at home cozied up to the fireplace with a cup of warm gooey goodness. So much for comfort.

All I have now… is the sting of salt in the cuts and cracks of my lips. All I have now… is burning hands from the slippery ropes.

And it is my brother’s fault. Goading me into this. Making snide remarks. I am his elder. He should have respected me. Now I was going to die… in the salty and disgusting and cold watery grave. And it would be his fault.

I used to joke that if I ever died… I would haunt him until he died. And that is what I would do.

I would make sure that slimy little rat was sorry. He had better be sorry.

In my pity party… a constant part of me nagged. I didn’t Listen.

But it keeps on pounding… as if the thought was begging me to pull it to the front door.

I wouldn’t let it.

Then the thought stopped caring. It slammed through the doors of my mind with a vicious force. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the aggression.

I wanted to jump out of the boat at the truth it spoke.

I almost did.

But it continued to pressure.

I had to turn back.

And so… after what seemed like hours of internal debate with my logical brain.

I did.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t.

My mom was waiting.

I was grounded.

But I was okay with that… normally I would have engaged in a yelling match with her. But I couldn’t. All I cared for… was my brother. That little rat. The one who goaded me out here. But… the one I made a promise to. His birthday was around the corner.

I couldn’t blame him. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so fired at the kid’s response.

To this day… Neither of us ever truly apologized to one another. After all… we were siblings… why would we? But to this day… we both knew why as soon as I stepped onto the sandy shores… I ran to him. Hugged him. Cried and laughed with him. We both knew why. And I’m glad I did.

My plan failed on so many levels. Didn’t make it to the island. Grounded. And I didn’t even pass my calculus test.

But… that’s not what mattered. What really mattered… was the chance to embarrass my baby brother on his graduation as he walked across the stage.

Back then… I hated it. But now… I am so thankful for it. That forceful thought that kicked down the doors and walls of my petty pride.

Now… I can accept The Sea as she is… wild… unpredictable… and quite frankly… the reason my brother and I are so close.