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We pull up to Gas Works Park and Jake starts unloading the kayaks. I’m feeling nervous again, but the view, at least, is calming. It’s among the best in the city and will always exist as one of my favorites. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. On a fall evening much like this one—where it was inexplicably warm and the breeze was still a relief—what seemed like a lifetime ago but also just like yesterday—Evie and I had drunkenly stumbled our way here. It was shortly after we had met, but the awkward ‘getting to know you' phase wasn’t her style. She dragged me all over the city that day. There was an underground flea market and a 21+ concert that we shouldn’t have been able to go to, but of course, no one says no to Evie. Then, we ended up here sitting on this hill. I remember thinking about how fucking lucky I was, and how now, after waiting and struggling for so long, I was starting a new chapter that I could write on my own and I got to be someone new. I remember wondering if finally, I would be able to let go of that sad, scared little girl. I also wondered when my badass roommate was going to figure out that I wasn’t worthy of her light, as I watched her scream out to the city something about how it needed to watch out for her, because she was going to own it, and some other things that weren’t very nice. It’s just as impressive as I’d remembered, the fall air just as warm. It smells like dry earth and a little bit like the sea.
I put on a ridiculous orange life jacket that renders my neck virtually incapable of movement. I hope this doesn’t require a lot of peripheral vision. If it does, this doesn’t bode well for me. Jake helps me into the kayak, and after the initial shock and a brief lesson on rowing and steering, I don’t find it so intimidating. It’s actually quite calming. It takes a little more muscle than I’d anticipated, or that I possess, but the kayak is also much sturdier than I’d imagined. If I stay somewhat close to the shore, I don’t think this is going to be that bad, assuming I don’t end up dropping my paddle and stranding myself in the middle of Lake Union. Having given myself something new to be anxious about, I tighten my grip and feel my palms start to sweat. I follow him out onto the lake for a while and then he stops and pulls my kayak up alongside his own.
“Not a bad view,” he says.
“Yeah, it’s actually one of my favorites,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t talking about the city. It’s okay, but I actually meant you in that orange life jacket.”
“Yeah, right,” I say, laying the paddle across my lap.
“You know, you aren’t terrible at this,” he tells me. “You’re kind of a natural.”
“Yeah, well I don’t feel like it,” I say. “But I am glad I said yes.”
“See, and you said you weren’t the outdoorsy type.”
“Maybe I don’t know what type I am.”
“Well, what do you usually do for fun?” he asks. “It would be nice to know for the future.”
It throws me off for a second. “I don’t really know. I don’t really do a lot for fun. I work a lot—at the bar. I work a lot on my other projects. I read and write in my spare time. I like happy hours and…free or freeish concerts in dark bars that aren’t too crowded. I go out with my friends every now and then when our schedules align. That’s pretty much it. I mean, there’s more stuff that I think I’d like to do, in theory, but I just haven’t done yet.”
“Like what?” he asks.
“Like—write a novel. Or travel. There are a million places I want to go, and I don’t even know where I’d start. I don’t even have a passport,” I laugh. “I haven’t ever even been on a plane. And now I’m sitting here thinking that I might even be outdoorsy. Maybe I’d like to hike or something.”
“You live in the Pacific Northwest and you’ve never been hiking? That’s disgraceful.”
“Yeah well, I’ve been busy just trying to meet my basic hierarchy of needs. Outdoor recreation kind of takes a back seat to that.”
“Well now I feel like a dick,” he says.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I have a bad habit of being harsher than I should be or thinking that things are funny when they aren’t.”
“Or maybe it’s just easier to make fun of them than take them as they are.”
“Also, that,” I tell him.
“We should go back,” he says, and he’s right. We haven’t been out for too long, but the sky has already started to show hints of pink, and this late in the season, it won’t stay light for too much longer. Seattle will soon be on fire. He turns his kayak back towards the shore and gives me the push that I need to follow.
We make it back with little incident, and it’s a relief. Jake helps me stumble out of the kayak and drags them both onto land. He makes himself comfortable on the hill and I feel bad for him for a minute. He seems so content, so whole. He doesn’t deserve to have to be here with me, who couldn’t offer someone anything like that. I sit down next to him anyway.
“Next time, I’ll take you sailing,” he says.
“Of course, you sail. How proper.”
“Come on, stop. Sailing is…intense. It takes skill to sail well.”
“Yeah, no thanks. I’m sure it’s a skill set I wasn’t born with.” I say. I don’t mean for it to, but it comes out cold.
“Where’s your head? You seem sad,” he says.
“No way,” I lie. “I’m totally not sad. I’m relieved to be back on dry land. I’m not a strong swimmer, and I don’t really trust that life jacket to do much more than choke the remaining life out of me.”
“You’re funny. But man, never hiked, can’t swim. That’s crazy.”
“Well, then I have bad news for you, because that is not even close to the craziest thing about me.”
