Distant Sails

As I lolled on the beach, I noticed a boat streaming along the horizon, taking me back to the last time I’d gone sailing with my father. I was fifteen, and he'd just started teaching me to sail. It was his 50th birthday, yet somehow we were celebrating my newfound proficiency at the tiller.

My mother and little brother, John, stayed on the pier, as John was still afraid of the water back then and hadn't yet learned how to swim. It was summer. The sky was bright and clear, and the air was warm and breezy, but the lake outside our home was busy.

We'd been out for just under an hour before deciding to turn back. A larger boat was approaching on our right, and my father instructed me to turn left. But at that moment, perhaps from the anxiety of being near another boat, instead of directing our boat left, I turned the tiller left, leading to a collision soon after.

The shock turned us over, with my father hitting his head before entering the lake. Underwater, I saw that he was still. I managed to free us both, but with him unconscious, there was nothing more I could. Even if the boat hadn’t rolled over, I wouldn’t have been able to lift him or swim so far to shore on my own.

As I began to panic, I heard a splash nearby. “Let’s get him up,” someone said. A boy around my age but seemingly older helped us towards an extended hand that lifted my father, and then me, out of the water. Attached to the hand was an older man with a concerned face, and behind him, a smaller boy a few years younger than me. “I’m sorry,” I said before breaking into loud sobs.

“Is he okay?” The child called from behind.

“Looks like he bumped his head, but he’s breathing.” The man said after turning my father over to assess. There was a gash on the right side of his forehead, bleeding profusely. The boy ran off and returned shortly after with a first aid kit, handing it to the older man.

“I’ll go ahead and try to get your boat upright.” The one who had helped us out of the water hopped back in. I saw him releasing the sail peripherally, but my primary focus was on my father.

The older man was cleaning his wound, saying it looked deep, before applying bandages. His hands seemed experienced, leading me to wonder what type of work he normally did. “Let’s try to get you guys back,” he said when he'd finished.

By then, the older boy had managed to upright our sailboat, which was damaged where we'd hit. “Are you able to get it back?” He called to me.

In the end, he and the older man quietly decided to anchor it short term and hope for the best. He returned to their boat, and I directed the older man to our house, which wasn't very far off. As I was sitting next to my father, still crying, although more controllably, the older boy sat by me. “Are you alright?” He asked. “I mean, clearly not, but are you hurt too?”

“I'm ok, but I feel bad. It's my fault.”

“Accidents happen. We're all fine, and he will be too. I'm not so sure about your boat, but hopefully. The weather's supposed to hold up at least."

When I didn't respond, he continued with, “what’s your name?”

“Lalaine.”

“Lalaine," he repeated. "Okay. Well, I’m Adam. You saw my little brother, Aaron. That’s my dad steering. Alex. Obviously, my parents chose a theme.”

I laughed lightly once between snivels. “This is my dad. Paul. No theme.”

“Is someone home to help when we get there?”

“My mom and brother are there somewhere. They may still be on the pier, or they may have gone inside. What if he doesn't wake up?” I started crying again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “He will. You’ll all be back together soon.” He was right. My father woke shortly after. However, he remained tired and dazed.

Back at the dock, my brother saw us nearing on a strange boat and ran off to get our mother. Alex and Adam were helping my father onto land by the time she got to us, asking what happened and thanking them for bringing us back. She then took over, leaving my brother and me home while she and my father went to the hospital.

Adam's father offered to watch us, stating they lived on the other side of the lake a little further down, but she declined, saying she didn't want us to be more of a bother. He left his phone number stating we could call if needed, but also to discuss damages later. The trio departed soon after.

My parents were gone the rest of the afternoon, returning in the evening with a concussion diagnosis. My father rested for the next few days but didn't fully recover for several months. On the other hand, I didn't recover and haven't been on a boat since.

But somehow, seeing the boat sailing in the distance, I suddenly missed it. Or maybe I just missed them. Since being on my own, I’d only visited during the holidays, but now summer was approaching. Perhaps it was time to take a long weekend drive and maybe face a fear.