Sailing Away

Chapter One

"You won't believe what this one looks like!"  My mother is ecstatic.  "Ooh, and he's so sweet and kind and hot!"  I stir my Cheerios, bored, and nod along.  She goes through a number of guys every month, so I figure this one can't be any different.  It's always some dark, hot guy from a bar for a few days, and then she comes home bragging about another.  

"Cool, Mom," I say, though I sound not interested at all.  She goes on to blab about how he paid for her food and her drinks.  I comment that it sure was nice of him.  After all, she does drink a lot.  

"Maybe he'll come over one day. Maybe we'll start dating!"  She sounds so eager that it's hard not to feel just a little happy for her.  But I've heard this all too many times.  It's a night at the bar, a brooding guy, and then he never calls.  Repeat multiple times for unsuccessful results.

"Yeah.  Maybe," I mutter, sounding like a complete Debby Downer.  Mom notices.

"Jasmine, you don't have to pretend you're interested.  You never seem to like my men anyways," she sniffs, but I can see that she's still beaming, obviously proud of obtaining another one of her "men."  I push away my cereal, suddenly not too hungry anymore.  I love my mother to death, but sometimes her talk about guys makes me feel icky.

"I'm going sailing," I tell her as I jump down from my high seat at our counter.  

"Okay, sweetie, have fun," my mother says absentmindedly.  She's humming, already lost in her head, probably dreaming of dancing with her temporary dreamboat.  I sigh and float out the front door.

It's bright outside and barely cloudy.  There's a slight breeze.  Perfect sailing weather.  I find myself gazing down at my outfit.  I'm wearing shorts and a polka-dotted top that reminds me of my Lindy Hop dresses.  It's comfortable enough to sail in, which is fine by me.

I walk the short distance down the skinny sidewalks and sandy steps to the beach and Sam's Boats, where my trusty old sailboat is docked at a rickety old harbor.  Sam himself greets me.  He's kind and old and nice to talk to, though he seems kind of lonely.  He knew my father before he passed away, so I feel a sort of tacit connection with him.  

"Good morning," Sam says in his weathered voice.  He smiles kindly, breezily.

"Morning, Sam," I say, placing my hands on my hips.

"D'ya wanna take Lucy out for a spin?" Sam asks with a wink, and I grin.  Of course he already knows why I'm here.  "Or d'ya wanna talk to this ol' bag of bones?"  I laugh and he smiles again, leading me over to the shed with his ring of keys.  Within minutes, he's pulled out my dad's old sails.  We lug them over to my dad's boat, bobbing in the light waves that lap against its sides.  The boat itself is pretty small and dinged up, but it's always been trusty.  Plus, sailing on it reminds me of when my dad and I used to sail together.  I try to make myself stop thinking about those times because I usually end up making myself sad.

"Wanna help an old man?" Sam jokes, and I blink a few times, clearing my head.  I trot over across the rickety wooden dock to help him and we wobble down to the boat holding the giant sails.  

"Thanks, Sam," I say, and he nods, tipping his faded captain's hat down over one eye once we've finished rigging up Lucy.  

"Not a problem, Jazz."  With a final, kind smile, he lets the boat go as I clamber on quickly.  I take ahold of the tiller as he waves from the dock.  I grin and wave back, and then focus my eyes on the horizon.

Sailing had always taken my breath away.

From when I was five and first terrified of being out in the ocean alone on a piece of plastic with my father to now, when I breeze by other boats.  I can probably sail with my feet by now.  I smile at the thought.