Tide's Ebb (10 page)

Marianna was brought back to the sea when a single shot of a starter pistol rang out, cutting through the gentle murmur of the deep. It was followed by twelve near-simultaneous
cracks
as each racer’s sails were unfurled, like Mark Wahlberg’s penis in
Boogie Nights
, the wind catching them with a
snap
, which did not happen to Mark Wahlberg’s penis in
Boogie Nights
. The race had begun.

Larry’s men were quicker with their sails—more coordinated—and the yellow-sailed boat took the early lead. Marianna felt her heart leap when she saw this, even though Larry was selfish, repulsive and had a beer belly.  But suddenly the winds changed direction, and Larry’s men struggled to re-position their sails.

A boat surged from behind. It had white sails with red stripes. Sam Sparkle. The crowd booed when they saw this—they had their favorite, and it was Larry. Marianna could barely see now, but she saw that Suzanne had brought binoculars and was watching the scene intently.

“Suzanne, why do you own binoculars?”

“There are a lot of reasons to have binoculars!”

“It’s not like you go bird watching!”

“Birds? Ha, no, but I do go cock watching! And let me tell you, sometimes you need binoculars for that!”

Oh, how the girls laughed.

“Let me see!” Marianna pawed at the binoculars anxiously.

Now Marianna could see Captain Larry, shouting and pointing, his men driving into action. Larry was holding a rope with one hand, his muscles taut and bulging. Then she turned the binoculars on Sam Sparkle and his crew.

What a contrast! Sam was grotesquely overweight and had farcically put on his own captain’s hat. Sam had only wisps of hair left, which stuck out straight from the sides of his head, creating a Bozo the Clown effect.  Sam was stumbling around, quite possibly besotted on rail alcohol, but his men appeared to be every bit as active as Larry’s.  Those men had opened up Sam’s hundred-yard lead as the boats headed off into the distance.

Sam’s boat approached a buoy—there they would have to turn the boat.  The race consisted of three of these turns, and it was the skill of the crews on these turns that would surely decide the outcome.  Marianna watched as Sam’s boat leaned sharply. For a moment, she thought it would tip over. But the vessel cornered nicely—the sails swung to the other side.

Still trailing by some distance, Larry’s boat approached the buoy. The crew pulled and leaned. The boat tilted, if anything even more deeply than Sparkle’s, and then shot forward once the corner was turned.  Marianna could now see only the backs of both boats, and it was impossible to judge who was in the lead.

The crowd in the raft now grew distracted.  With the distant race hard to follow, the boys in Marianna’s boat turned their attention to drinking games. One game was called “butt luge,” which involved three boys. One boy had to pour beer down another boy’s back, while a third boy would place his mouth near the small of the other boy’s back and drink the beer flowing down. Then they would yell “No homo!” when they were done.

What pleasant boys!
thought Marianna. She looked over at Suzanne and saw her friend turning green.

Someone shouted. The racing yachts were making another turn—you could see the masts dip and then pop back up… and…

The boats were again visible from the side—Larry’s and Sam Sparkle’s boats were neck and neck.  Only the final turn would separate the two boats. A hush fell over the crowd. Now even the boys were fascinated—still drinking beer and playing butt luge, but absolutely rapt. Marianna felt so tense that she too grabbed a bottle. Although the taste was awful, Marianna thought that the beer probably “works, every time.”

The boats approached the turn, but what was Sam Sparkle doing? It looked as if the villain was directing his boat closer and closer to Larry’s. Was this an attempt to intimidate Larry, or steer him into a deadly mistake? Marianna felt a lump in her throat and a tingle in her silken folds. The boats were so close to each other that the crews could have reached over and shaken hands had they not been battling like two attractive, heavily muscled gladiators with perfect teeth in a Roman coliseum. Just the very proximity of the boats seemed unwise, considering how dangerous and unpredictable high performance yachting could be.

At the turn, the masts again dipped as the crews strained to find the perfect balance between a precise turn and certain doom.

When the boats again turned upright, there was only one leader.

And it is my Larry!
Marianna thought, before catching herself.
My Larry? His manhood wasn’t even erect when he was naked on top of me. He’s probably gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that—I have lots of gay friends), and I can’t stand him!
She told herself this repeatedly, with complete and steadfast resolution on the subject.

The raft erupted in wild cheers—the villagers were ecstatic, partly because it meant that they didn’t have to pretend to congratulate the foul Sam Sparkle. It was a victory for all Newporridgians. Larry and his crew pumped their fists in the air, piloted their boat close to the raft and anchored.

The cheerful townsfolk headed towards the yachts in smaller boats—dinghies they called them—offering bottles of champagne and small baggies of cocaine. The Mayor and his adorable boy headed towards Larry, pulling alongside Larry’s yacht and tying up near to it. The Mayor jumped on board and shook Larry’s hand vigorously for the cameras as his son Chas stared on from the perfect safety of his boat.

Marianna sighed. Yes, Larry was well-liked in this small town, but she had no desire to get in one of those dinghies to congratulate him. His head was big enough, and, after all, he had been the one who acted so ungratefully when she tried to introduce him to Starbucks specialty drinks.
Why can’t I find a man who doesn’t act like that?

So while most of the crowd was transfixed by the merry spectacle, Marianna’s eyes scanned the sea.

And what she saw terrified her.

To Marianna’s left, there were only blue skies, the same blue skies that broke with the dawn. But to her right, dark clouds whipped in, pushing forward a cresting sea. The water around her was already becoming choppy.  Before the crowd was even aware of what was happening, a fifteen-foot wave slammed into the raft-up, shaking the boats and sending revelers to the deck.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marianna saw something moving.  One of the boats on the far end of the raft had come loose and was now floating aimlessly in the heedless sea. There were still passengers on the boat, clearly visible in their bright Brooks Brothers plaids.

“Look out!” She tried to get the words out, but the wind swallowed her tiny voice. The passengers on the boat were staggering—perhaps the effect of too many gin and tonics, the rough sea or years of inbreeding. They behaved as if paralyzed and incapable of trying to steer the boat. Another wave rolled in. The rest of the boats in the raft held firm, but the next savage wave sent the wayward boat drifting swiftly back towards…

No! Not the Mayor’s boat!

Indeed, the lost boat was careening towards the Mayor’s boat—with only the Mayor’s adorable child on board. People on all of the other boats began to scream and gesture furiously, hoping to convince the Mayor’s sweet boy to put on a life vest.

But the boy thought the people were waving at him. At the time of impact, the boy was merely waving back, making perfect figure-eight motions with his tiny hand.

Marianna would remember the crunch of the boats for the rest of her life. She closed her eyes tight, but the sickening thud of boat-upon-boat could not be shut out.

When she looked again, she saw the passenger yacht with a massive hole in its stern—water was gushing into the hole and upending the boat, just like a mini-Titanic, but with less attractive passengers and no Celine Dion theme song. The boat stood like that for a second, but another wave hit and knocked it over, capsizing it. The passengers were now trapped underneath. The hull of the boat started to sway, before finally sinking, taking its well-dressed passengers into the deep.

Into the deep they went. Never again to see the sun, to love, or to play strip croquet while drunk on Pimm’s Cup.

The Mayor’s boat was listing, as well—a thin, but jagged stripe on its hull evidence that it too had been breached in the collision. It was only a matter of time. But somehow, the boy Chas still stood, still waving, but his other hand gripped the mast, comely white knuckles even whiter with tension.  

Marianna found herself paralyzed with fear. Fear—for the fates of those poor souls, and for the fate of the Mayor’s good-looking little boy. If the boy had been ugly, perhaps it wouldn’t have felt so painful. But as it was, the child was cute enough to appear in commercials, and the loss was unimaginable.

Most of the crowd seemed similarly rooted to the decks of their boats.  But a lone voice rose over the howls of wind, and the peals of thunder, robust and driven by determination: “Men, lower the sails and make for the Mayor’s boat!”

Larry’s men responded to the urgency of his voice, each taking his station and working furiously, some positioning the vessel’s archboard, others angling the bilge and binnacle. Larry’s boat, unanchored, quickly approached the Mayor’s ailing yacht.  Marianna sensed the danger here. The yacht was unstable and even the slightest of bumps might flip it over. The sea rocked all of the boats viciously, the maneuver ever more precarious. Larry piloted his boat so that it was at a ninety degree angle to the yacht and then moved forward at high speed.

Without a doubt, Larry’s boat would crash into the Mayor’s yacht!

Miraculously, Larry’s boat turned at exactly the right moment, so that the vessels were now parallel—and Larry’s boat did not so much as graze the Mayor’s yacht. Larry stood at the edge of the boat and called to the Mayor’s winsome young child, even as waves pummeled both vessels.