Water Things Kind of Freak Me Out (06.11.07)

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I like canoes. I like sea kayaks. I like the little wind up boats that zoom around in the bath tub. I like inflatable rafts. I like ferries. I like slow speed boats. I like pontoon boats. I might like cruise ships.

* * *

It was the fourth of July. We had decided to join our long-time friend, Rob and his fiancé Stacey at her parents cabin for the day. In the water along the dock sat an older pink and white jet ski. This behemoth of a machine was meant for two people to ride and took several tries to get started. Stacey and Rob went first. They putzed around for a while getting it going and eventually zoomed off. Both returned later with wind-blown hair.

I dunno, should I go for a ride too? Water things kind of freak me out.

* * *

“This can’t be real… I know I’m not freaking out.” His face, lying there so peacefully. I hate you, love you and need you all at the same time. He is so quiet. Not sad, not happy, just quiet. A tear rolls down my cheek. “Is this really real?”

* * *

I remember when we were at Mackinak Island with Rob and another couple. We had so much fun. Both rob and I had been carrying around paper wrapped forties the entire afternoon. We sat collecting ourselves on a bench in front of the Fort that overlooks the small street below. Each time a beautiful baby would pass by I could hear “Hey baby!” being bellowed in a very feminine voice from the person next to me. Of course every giggle egged him on. As the 82 year old woman shuffled by, we heard another “Hey baby!” Then again as the 8 year-old road a bike past us “Hey baby!” By this time, we could hardly contain ourselves. “Hey baby!” became the phrase of the trip. After that even men began to be recipients of the “Hey baby!” I think he was really in dire need of a girl friend.

* * *

Oh this bathing suit makes me look fat. Oh, shut up Melissa. Oh my God, stop talking to yourself. Only if they could hear me. I really should have brought another bathing suit. Is this enough incentive for you to go to the gym? After all, you are paying $60 a month for it. Hmm. I’ll tie this wrap around a little higher than normal, that should hide the fat roll. Oh, I’m looking so old. I have got to work out.

“Stacey, the bathroom is open!”

* * *

I like water skiing. I like white water rafting. I like riding on the ply-wood toboggan behind the boat. I like tubing lazily down rivers. I like fishing boats. I might like tugboats.

* * *

I hop onto the jet ski. Kathy lowers it down from the shore station into the calm morning waters of the White Lake. She tells me to “push the green button” to turn it on. As I read the warning label positioned on the tank between my arms, I forget to breathe. She reaches around me and points the jet ski toward the center of the lake and tells me to “gun it”. I do. I wish I hadn’t. I don’t think I like this.

* * *

I envision the sight while I sit staring blankly out the living room window. The boat suddenly took on water. There was a frantic rush to try to get the important things into grip. Forget about getting the life jacket. It’s too late for that. Just start swimming. Follow Zane and Jon. Man these clothes make it hard to swim. They are so heavy. “C’mon!” Zane yelled as he looked back. No one following. Divers and sirens converge to awaken Zane from the dream.

* * *

Snap! Snap! I can hardly breathe. Both my nerves and the life vest squeeze the air out of my chest. Chad holds the two seater sail boat steady as I, less than gracefully, wobble on and sit down. He slowly lets out the sail. As the wind first catches the sail the boat careens over to one side, I let out a screech and clutch the sides of the boat so fiercely that my knuckles are white, and my shoulders tired. “See this isn’t so bad,” he says. I have to choke down the huge lump in my throat to speak, “nope,” I say. I don’t believe it. Another big gust of wind sneaks up on us. The boat tilts over the water and the sail, too far over to help us, dips into the water. I am frozen with panic and fear. I try to find Chad. I can’t see him. All I see is the sail on one side of me and the boat on the other. I just bob there as the boat begins to sink around me leaving ropes floating everywhere.

* * *

I brush the long hair from my face and peer out the window. The police pull into the driveway. One man gets out. I peek out from the side of the curtains to see what is happening. I bet we’re in trouble for something. My mom goes to the door. I move closer to the door. “There has been an accident ma’am.”

* * *

“Aaaaaaahhhh!” I shouted into Rob’s ear. “Oh, my God!” I can’t help but scream as the jet ski glides across the water at 30 mph. He takes a quick turn so that we can jump over the wake of a passing speed boat. We pick up speed into the first wave. The jet ski makes a tiny hop. We both leave our seat for a fraction of a second. My shoulders and arms ache from holding so tightly. Just breathe, I try to remember. It’s only a jet ski. He won’t let anything happen. I manage to eek out a “Hey baby” for the passing girl on a tube. We both laugh.

* * *

I drive the jet ski with Kathy shouting directions toward Lake Michigan. We cruise slowly through the channel. I can do this. “Look at the waves crashing over the end of the pier!” I can’t do this. I can’t do this! “Can we trade?” I ask. She scootches carefully pass me. I shake my head at myself as I scream in complete and utter fear of this watercraft jumping over the 6 foot waves. This is how a swimless sailor must feel.

* * *

I don’t like row boats. I don’t like tubing. I don’t like fast moving speed boats. I don’t like swimmies. I don’t like jet skis.