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VINH
“Twelve hundred per month.”
The authority behind the demand was somewhat tempered by the board shorts and flip flops Paul—the owner of the houseboat—was wearing as he haggled with my mother on the dock of the small marina behind Fortuna.
“Seven hundred. And that’s generous,” my mother countered.
She was going easier on him than I’d expected—likely because within the first few minutes of meeting, they’d discovered several mutual acquaintances, as was common for anyone plugged into the vibrant Vietnamese-American community on the Coast.
Paul was a dealer from the casino who I’d instantly recognized, but he still didn’t stand a chance against my mother and likely knew it, given the way his posture was deflating as he rested his hands on his hips and tried in vain to tango with my mother.
“Nine hundred, plus a security deposit. Hurricane season isn’t over.”
I squeezed my mom’s shoulder, silently assuring her that I, a grown man, could negotiate a rental without her assistance.
I’d known this would happen once she caught wind of my errand this morning and insisted on coming along, leaving Liem and Dad to their morning cartoons at their home—a three-bedroom ranch-style rental in Bay Springs, the town just over the massive twin bridges that intersected the bay. It had to be some form of divine intervention that they’d moved into one of the few homes that was both near Ari’s restaurant and wasn’t on stilts, considering Dad’s surgery shortly after the move.
“Paul,” I interjected, taking over the negotiations. “Nine hundred. And half that for a deposit.” I held his gaze until the complete surrender took over his posture, which was followed by his agreement.
After I’d found the rental listing last Sunday, Paul and I messaged briefly online before agreeing to negotiate terms in person on his next off day—today.
“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?” I asked, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. Based on our limited interactions, I liked Paul well enough. What I didn’t love was the uncertainty of his time frame.
“No, man, I don’t. Trust me, I wish I did. It was crazy abrupt. I’m being promoted and transferred over to Titan. Immediately.”
Confusion must have shown on my face because he explained, “Sorry, I forgot you said that you’re from the Coast, but not this coast. Titan is Fortuna’s sister-casino. It’s not far, maybe an hour with traffic. But too far to feel good about commuting back and forth with the hours I work. I did think about having the boat hauled over there, but I don’t know those docks. There’s no telling how well they’re maintained or how safe they are.”
I nodded, instantly feeling kinship with him. “If you do find a dock, how much notice will you be able to give me?”
“Honestly, man, I won’t be in any hurry to. They’re setting me up in an executive suite at the hotel to butter me up. Probably because of the extremely short notice. I’m thinking of riding that wave for as long as I can. And like I said, it’s still hurricane season. I think I’d rather see out the rest of it from the comfort of somewhere specifically built to weather it.”
I nodded again. “Makes sense.”
Still didn’t love it, but I did feel a little more assured that he wasn’t going to show up next week and drive my new rental away. I had no desire to go back to the awful pull-out couch at the new Lott residence. It hadn’t been so bad when I thought that I’d be staying with my parents for a week—two, tops—to help during Dad’s initial days of recovery, but now….
Mom cut into my thoughts. “I would like to see the inside again and double-check the outlets and the kitchen appliances. I’m assuming your fire extinguisher is accessible and less than ten years old?”
I shifted my gaze from watching the Gulf’s water lap at the wooden posts to meet her eyes, finding them unapologetic.
She wouldn’t overstep as to even think to forbid me from moving into a houseboat, but she had no reservations about making sure it was as safe as possible. Her fierceness was the primary reason that our family hadn’t fallen apart over the years. With my accident and subsequent career swerve, Dad’s ups and downs—mental and physical—and Liem’s ever-growing wild nature, the Lotts were a lot. And that wasn’t even to mention my Aunt Ari and Uncle Gil.
Which was why I stayed on the dock, content to loiter as she and Paul walked back into the houseboat. I absently rubbed at my scarred forearm, feeling the echoes of heat from that long-extinguished fire. The shock, the delayed pain, the betrayal of something I had loved. Those hadn’t been nearly as bad as seeing Mom’s terror and panic, but even worse was Dad and Liem’s stunned silence.
Those were the memories that stuck with me almost ten years later.
I barely remembered the pain of those initial weeks of healing. I did remember the morning that I sat in the hospital bed, examining my bandaged arm, waiting for the grief that never came.
That’s when I’d decided that I would not be returning to culinary school.
Decision made. No more unnecessary distress for anyone.
The morning after Liem’s birthday, I’d had a similar experience. Except this time, on the world’s worst pull-out couch instead of a hospital bed. I’d groaned in a way that made me sound nearer to seventy than thirty, the bed creaking under my weight before I hoisted myself up to make a cup of coffee.
And then I’d opened my laptop and clicked on the newest listings for nearby rentals.
And here I was a few days later, ready to occupy a floating house.
The crunch of wheels on gravel interrupted the natural sounds of the Gulf.
