Audio: The author’s voice recreated on ElevenLabs
'Twas grace that brought us safe thus far and grace will lead us home.
-Hayley Westenra
“So, how are things?”
Gar looked up and considered the question. He pulled himself up straighter. “Good, really good…” He wondered if he’d sounded convincing.
Gene folded back a page on his legal pad, pen poised. He smiled and nodded. “Okay, so last time when we ended, you felt like you might want to get back into sailing—have any more thoughts on that?”
“Well, yeah… I ended up buying one—yesterday.” Gene’s face didn’t move. Gar shifted, already sensing he’d have to explain himself.
“Okay…?” Gene said. He studied Gar for a beat longer than usual, tapped his pen, then nodded. “Alright, tell me about that.”
“Well, it’s been a while since our last meeting, but—I’ve mentioned Dwight Brown before?”
Gene gave a slow nod.
“His boat, Stinger, is for sale. A friend told me about it, and… I couldn’t pass on the opportunity.”
Gene didn’t respond right away. He studied Gar, then said, “What made you pull the trigger?”
Gar exhaled and rubbed his palm. “I guess—familiar boat, familiar name.” He gave a half-shrug. “A bit hard to explain.”
Gene nodded but didn’t write anything. “Alright. We don’t have to dig in too deep.” He paused. “But let’s take a step back. How are you feeling about it—owning a boat again?”
Gar was slow to answer. His jaw tensed. “I’m not looking to forget anything. That’s not what this is.”
Gene leaned back with a reassuring look. “Didn’t say it was.”
Gar paused, then offered part of the truth. “Not having sailing in my life seems… so final.” He glanced around the room, weighing what other pieces of the past he was willing to drag out into the open. “Having a boat again…” He paused. “I just don’t want this to seem like I want to move on.”
“Do you feel like you can allow yourself to move on?”
Gar immediately became uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation and avoided answering. “I’ve got to go see Dwight this afternoon. I called and told them I was stopping by—he’s in the hospital.”
Gene raised his eyes. “So does this circumstance play into your decision to buy the boat?”
“Yes,” Gar nodded. The room became quiet except for the faint ding of a bell, followed by the low rumble of an elevator door opening down the hall. Gar felt his thoughts, like a house of cards, flutter into a pile.
Gene sensed Gar’s reticence. “Dwight played a part in your love of sailing—you’ve mentioned this. Is he not doing well?”
“I’m not sure… People his age go into the hospital and…” Gar took a breath. “That’s that.” He looked down and interlaced his fingers.
“Are you sensing this is not good?”
“His son said it’s pneumonia, but I know he was diagnosed a while back with lung cancer. The VA said it was probably from asbestos exposure during the war—he worked in the engine rooms.”
Gene nodded, “Mesothelioma.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’m sensing that this boat purchase…” Gene paused. “…isn’t totally about you getting back into sailing. There’s more to all this.” He watched Gar and waited for a response, then decided to move on. “Let’s set the whole boat purchase aside for now. Why don’t you tell me a little more about Dwight’s role in your life? Walk me through all that.”
Gar continued to stare at his hands. “Where should I start?”
“Just help me get a sense of what Dwight meant to you. Take me back. Seems like there’s more to this—more than you’ve shared.”
“I met him as a kid at the club.”
“Okay, so as a kid at the yacht club… Let’s start from there,” Gene prodded.
“Alright.” Gar shifted deeper into the sofa. “It was the late ‘70s. These guys at the club were all larger than life to a teenage kid like me—a mix of personalities. Some were nice… but we’re talking sailing here… I didn’t really know them other than at the dock or out on the racecourse. They probably didn’t even give me the time of day. I just hung around and listened to them interact with each other and with my dad.”
“So Dwight was part of this group of guys?”
“Right—everybody looked up to him. He was the kind of guy who could fix anything and seemed to know every bit of background on everybody there. And he was always considered the best racer at the club—until my dad came along.”
“Did that cause any problems between your dad and Dwight?”
“No, no. They both had strong personalities, but racing was just…” Gar searched for words. “I guess… gentlemanly—for lack of a better term. There’d be some yelling back and forth on the water about right of way and stuff, but it was all pretty friendly at the dock.”
Gene jotted a note on his pad, then looked up at Gar without speaking.
Gar continued, “So… I crossed over with Dwight when he was short on crew for a race. He asked my dad if he could spare me. My dad said okay, and I got on Stinger for a race. My friend Murph always wanted to race, so I said he could take my place on Static—my dad’s boat.”
“That go okay?” Gene asked out of curiosity.
“Yeah, it worked out because Murph started to crew for my dad after that. He was a goofball, but he looked up to my dad and was scared of him at the same time. And my dad—nice guy on shore—was pretty much a tyrant on the boat. He could get on Murph’s case and Murph would just try harder. Me… I’d just get pissed off and passive-aggressive.”
“You said you and your father had a pretty good relationship?” Gene asked, wanting to be sure he understood.
“Oh yeah. I mean, it’s nothing like my relationship with my own children, but for the times it was about as good as it got. I sound old, but a few of these dads back then were World War II and Korean War vets—they didn’t put up with any crap from kids, and we all just kinda knew it.”
“So, you ended up spending a good deal of time around Dwight?”
“Quite a few summers racing. Looking back, it was some of the best times of my childhood. But I was just a kid with no real responsibilities—I can’t live in that world.”
“And the sailboat, Stinger—is that the same one you just bought?”
Gar stiffened, caught off guard. Of course Gene would connect the dots. This all just looked like an attempt to relive his childhood. He had to explain more.
“Stinger is a Triton 28… designed by Carl Alberg,” Gar said with a trace of weary frustration. He knew this wasn’t going to prove anything. “So, it has that provenance… It can be sailed single-handed, and that’s something I’d rather do at times. But why now…?” He asked the question aloud, more to himself than Gene.
“We don’t have to tear this whole thing back to the studs,” Gene offered, giving him an out.
“No, that’s okay. I want to explain this to you—and me.” Gar’s gaze drifted upward as he sorted through what could possibly be explained. “I’m an emotional person—you know I love art, I love music. Artworks and songs are things we tend to hold dear.” His look became pained. “Stinger is a piece of art—it’s a piece of art I know.”
Gene could see Gar had reached the end of that train of thought and shifted gears. “Alright, let’s step back and look at the landscape around this decision to get the boat. Clearly this means a lot to you. How’s your family feeling about it?”
“Honestly, Mairin thought it was a bit rash. But she understood what I explained to you about the timing. And I also told her I wanted to buy the boat while Dwight was still alive. I feel it would be good for him to know it’s in good care.”
“And Mairin was supportive?”
“I think so,” Gar said, replaying the conversation in his head. His face tightened in uncertainty. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s okay with it.”
“And your kids?”
“Well, Cam always loved sailing. He’s happy if I’m happy. I’m not so sure about Ashley. I should’ve told her… I should’ve let her know I was thinking about it. Seems pretty uncaring of me not to.”
“Does that worry you?”
“Yep.” Gar let the word hang in the air. “This is where I don’t want this to seem like I’m just moving on. Like I don’t give a damn about the hurt and the…” He stopped himself.
“And that’s how you think she’ll take it?”
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t. Honestly, even I worry that’s what’s going on here—that I’m just trying to bury the past and move on.”
“Do you think you are?”
“Even if I wanted to—I don’t think I ever could.” Gar’s mind edged closer to a truth he couldn’t share. He forced himself back to the present. “I’ll call her. I’ll call her and somehow make this right. Mairin’s probably already prepared her for this—but I’ll tell her.”
“Why don’t we stop there?” Gene glanced at the clock on the wall.
Gar nodded slowly, as if giving himself permission to stop. He stood, but his mind stayed seated—stuck in a conversation he hadn’t yet had.
So well written Kyle. The all too familiar struggle that most men have in sharing thoughts and feelings. Then even after finally releasing something, not everything of course, the difficulty and inability to adequately explain the emotions. Tie in the mysterious allure of the sea as well as everything else related to being on the water and you've got yourself one helluva story, like Stinger. Really enjoying this. - Jim
Really enjoying this, Kyle. By coincidence, I just saw a Triton yesterday moored in Ft Myers Beach (FL) as we were putting by on our powerboat. She was a beautiful shade of Captain's Blue and was clearly someone's labor of love. Love the Alberg designs but sailboats have certainly changed since those days. Looking forward to chapter 5.