Escape From a Canvas World

Self preservation, I guess, or maybe it was primeval instinct that forced me to grip the wheel until my fingers numbed and my knuckles whitened. Trillions of white dots danced in front of my eyes. Their brilliance was mesmerizing, their rapid movement compelling! I willingly let myself start to slip away into their world of peaceful serenity.

Intense pressure on my left arm stopped my flight. "Serena, you are as white as a Cloroxed ghost. Are you all right?"

I turned and found myself staring right into Simon’s intense blue eyes. It was the first time he had ever touched me in an intimate way - perhaps it was the understanding and genuine caring reflected in his eyes - perhaps it was the firmness of his grip on my arm - but the combination was quite a panacea for I felt the knot in my stomach dissolve and the after shock waves of fear slowly subside. I was able to relax my vise like grip on the wheel. "I’m fine, Simon; just a good case of stage fright. That’s all!"

"I think you are doing remarkably well, Serena."

This time he gave my arm a gentle reassuring type of squeeze before removing his hand. "In fact, Serena, I couldn’t do any better navigating through these ocean swells than you are doing today."

From then on I was okay and able to concentrate solely on the business at hand, mainly entering the time 11:15 a.m., on my diagram as we passed the red and black bell buoy marking the entrance to the river and a few minutes later 11:25 a.m., beside the last navigational aid I had listed before we reached the island, a mid-channel black and white short-long flashing lighted bell buoy written down as BW "CH" S-L F1 Bell. Why I even merited a booming, "Well done, Serena," after bringing Escape into a small barren cove which served as the island’s harbor and another, "Wicked good," after docking her at an old minuscule wharf no bigger it seemed than a banquet size dining table.

Though I was thrilled over Simon’s compliments I didn’t let them go to my head. I took a moment - brief as it was - to enter the time 11:32 a.m., on my diagram beside Bald Head Island and afterwards being a dutiful pupil reported, "You were right, Simon! It took us thirty minutes traveling at a speed of six knots per hour to get from Humpback Rock to here. Then I let the compliments go to my head. I jumped up, threw my arms around him, shouting so the whole world could hear, "I did it, Simon! I did it!"

Perhaps if the family had been on the wharf to welcome me I wouldn’t have reacted so wildly, their presence and comments always bringing me back down to earth. Adam, of course, would have said, "God damn it to hell, Serena, it’s only taken you 28 years to get here;" his proper Brahmin upbringing having been tainted by gutter language absorbed from the nooks and crannies of the underworld. Mother would have frowned her displeasure over Adam’s unseemly conduct, then giving me a loving maternal embrace would say, "It was just a matter of time, Dear." Gloria, my dear twin, would have said, "You’ve done well, my pet." Grandfather would have said nothing, his pride in my achievement evident by a prolonged wink of his right eye. Daddy would have helped me ashore being careful I didn’t slip between the boat and the dock, then after giving me a loving fatherly embrace would say, "I’m proud of you, Little One."

As it was Simon did the honors helping me ashore in much the same careful manner as Daddy would have done. However their similarity in behavior stopped there, Simon wisely having the foresight to keep our relationship, at least for the minute, strictly on a platonic plane for after I was deposited firmly on the wharf he removed the picnic basket and red blanket from Escape’s stern and then distanced himself from me by tying a couple of extra unnecessary lines onto her. Finally he turned around, the warmth reflected in his eyes and smile a telltale give away that he had thoroughly enjoyed our brief encounter. On the other hand the ramrod straightness of his back signaled that his response to my jubilant outburst was going to be dictated by the practical and serious side of his mind rather than his heart. "Serena, we will never make it to Shipwreck Island and back to the marina before dark unless we have our lunch now," he said earnestly. "It appears we have the entire island to ourselves so where do you think you would like to picnic?"

I looked around. "Gloria said there was a rise in the land not too far from the wharf that offered a good view of the harbor and a magnificent bird’s-eye sweep of the mainland. That might be a nice spot for our picnic."

Simon picked up the basket and blanket. "I know exactly the place she means, Serena. It’s actually a flat rock about the size of a football field and weathered smooth by the elements. In fact, the rock’s barren, wind polished smoothness is what prompted the island’s name of Bald Head."

"Oh!"

"Now then, a person almost has to be part mountain goat to get there but the view is well worth the climb. Do you think you are up to it?"

A touch of Gloria’s women’s lib glib unconsciously edged into my reply. "If you can do it, Simon, so can I! So, lead on McDuff!"