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And Clarissa.
“This is incredible!” she whoops into the wind, her suntanned arms grasping the mast tightly. It feels like a day of celebration – her cast is off, I have my boat. All is right in our world.
The boat slices cleanly through the water, barely registering the rolling current that smacks against the hull. It’s everything I could possibly have hoped for and the fact that Clarissa is here to share the maiden voyage with me only makes this even more exciting.
I laugh my happiness into the salty sea air, amazed by how beautiful this moment is. The sails whip in the wind like wings that spell out my freedom. The sea air is crisp, light, and refreshing. And Clarissa is smiling just as widely as I am.
“I can’t believe you built this with your own two hands,” Clarissa tells me, inching closer to me.
“Not all the way. Still a collective project,” I explain, relishing the compliment quietly to myself.
The sudden proximity thrills me and only heightens the elation I’m feeling at being here on my boat with Clarissa by my side. I feel like both have been a long time in the making.
“I almost can’t believe it’s done,” I add, reefing the sail a little to slow the boat down.
The whipping wind eases somewhat and a new excitement replaces the adrenaline that coursed through me when we were sailing at full speed. I don’t feel like testing the engine, knowing the mechanics I hired to construct the thing tested it as soon as it was put in.
Not to mention the fact I can’t help but be painfully aware of Clarissa next to me, her olive skin no doubt warm to the touch — even warmer than usual with the glow of the sun on it.
I can’t help but stare at her, and I don’t even try to hide it because I’m finally able to admit what I’ve been resisting for so long. And not just to myself or Marcel.
“Clarissa,” I say, the adrenaline suddenly coursing through me again, even though we’ve slowed down to a gentle pace now.
Clarissa looks at me, still grinning widely, but the moment she catches my eye she can tell there’s something different about this conversation. Her smile softens into one of thoughtful expectation and she gazes right back, her eyes unflinching as if she knows what’s coming, or perhaps hopes she knows what’s coming. The silence between us right now is filled only with the gentle lapping of the waves on the boat’s hull and the occasional seagull.
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say until the words are coming out of my mouth but when they do, they feel exactly right.
“I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve worked on this boat for such a long time. I thought when I took it out for the first time, it would be alone. But I realize now I’d much rather be here with you. Because I really like you,” I say, almost surprised at my ability to suddenly speak so plainly about something I’ve taken great pains to avoid for so long.
Clarissa doesn’t respond — at least not with words. But I see her pupils dilate ever so slightly, her face softening. Her lips are parting now.
And at that point, I can’t help it. Gently, so as to give her the chance to stop me, I lean forward, closing the gap between us. She doesn’t pull back, doesn’t raise a hand to my chest to stop my approach.
Instead, she leans forward a little too. When her mouth meets mine, my whole body erupts into bliss. I didn’t think I wanted to open up like this to anyone. Sometimes I doubted I was even capable of it. But in this simple act of kissing Clarissa, I’ve handed her my heart, and it doesn’t bother me at all.
The softness of her lips on mine, the warmth of her tongue, the fact that she must feel what I feel if she’s kissing me like this. It’s like a balm to my soul. It just feels right in a way that I’m not sure anything else in my life ever has.
I can feel Clarissa’s hands gripping my waist, while my fingers grasp the nape of her neck and the small of her back. It feels like forever that we’re locked in this embrace, finally giving physicality to the fire that’s been burning between us since the moment we first laid eyes on each other.
The soft lapping of the waves beats a steady rhythm that our bodies seem to follow — insistent but not rushed — as though just allowing ourselves to savor this kiss is enough.
“Hey!”
The sound of the waves is suddenly broken by a shout. Then another, and another.
“Hey! Help!”
“Help us!”
Clarissa and I break away from each other in bewilderment. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the light and when I do, I see Clarissa has already jumped up and is pointing toward the horizon.
“Emile! Look!”
I peer over her shoulder to see a small rowboat bobbing helplessly on the waves, and when I look closer, I understand what the yelling is all about. A group of kids, maybe four or five, are waving their arms, still shouting at us for help. As far as I can see, they’ve lost their oars. I immediately jump up to adjust the sails.
Thankfully, the wind is working in our favor, and within a minute, we’re coming up beside them and dropping anchor.
“Catch the rope!” I call to them before hurling a coil of rope toward them, the other end of which is fastened tightly to one of my painstakingly mounted cleats.
