Sippy cup

Sarah resisted the urge to glance down at her watch. As she sat on the bench in front of her apartment complex, idly wondering at the passers-by, she knew it must have crept well past 5, their agreed-upon time, but she’d sent him a text before she’d come outside to confirm that he still intended on picking her up, and had yet to receive a reply. She was hesitant to send the confirmation message, her finger wavering over the send button for longer than she’d like to admit before she made the move to press it; the guy that was presently occupying her mind seemed so casual about the whole arrangement that she’d not wanted to scare him away with any sense of urgency.

Now, however, she found herself locked in a spiral as she wondered if the lack of response, or even the fact that she’d reached out in the first place, were any kind of early warning for a generic blowoff text, a ruined evening, or a complete ghosting. When they’d struck up a conversation a week past, she’d been enthralled by the carefree interest that he’d taken in spending some time with her, and the vagueness of their agreement left her hopefully imagining the possibilities that a night with him could bring. With the clock marching unfavorably onward, his carefree interest was suddenly leaving her doubting his commitment to their plans.

Passively, Sarah watched a woman pushing her stroller along the walking path that surrounded the green space bordering her apartment; as the woman struggled to maintain the fine balance between control of the stroller’s momentum and the opposing force of her dog on a dead run towards a squirrel, when the silence was shattered by the sharp crackling of an engine reverberating off of the sides of the buildings. Sarah’s head snapped in the direction of the sound, as did the stroller-entangled woman’s, as the silhouette of a lone motorcycle rider crested the hill to the east. As the figure drew nearer, Sarah recognized the man she had been waiting for. Relief and excitement gave way to a small amount of fear as she noticed a helmet secured alongside the frame of the machine, clearly intended for her.

Coming to a stop in front of the bench, her intended evening companion looked up at her, his smile beaming from beneath the small helmet covering his baseball cap.

“Sorry I’m late!” He exclaimed, “Keeping time’s never been my strong suit!”

Relieved, Sarah abandoned her position on the bench and went to meet him. She assured him that she’d not been waiting long, and they quickly jumped into a discussion about the adventure ahead. She’d been confused by a message earlier in the week urging her to wear jeans and a jacket on their evening out, but on sight of the machine on which they’d be traveling for the evening, she was glad to have complied. He deftly swooped the helmet from its storage and presented it to her; having never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before, she awkwardly tried to don the equipment and feign some familiarity with the process. He chuckled and shook his head at her, and came in close to fasten the chin strap properly. Tilting her head up to give him room to work, Sarah felt a jolt as his fingers brushed the underside of her neck. She wondered if that was a byproduct of the task, or a little extra embellishment on his behalf. Either way, she did her best to shake off the rush of feelings and follow his instructions as he once again apologised for his late arrival, and urged that they get moving so as ‘not to miss it!’

Sarah complied, and straddled the machine, positioning her feet on the pegs as instructed. Still newly acquainted with the man, she was hesitant to wrap her arms around his midriff. Gently holding his sides in her hands, she asked, “Miss what??” The response, if there was one, was drowned out by the splitting sound of the engine hitting its stride, and the bike whipped back into the roadway. Once the vehicle came up to speed, she realized that her arms had worked their way entirely around his body in terror, and were squeezing for dear life! Relaxing her grip slightly, she began to wonder where they were headed. Only a few minutes from the city traffic, the bike began maneuvering tighter and tighter corners as they weaved up into the hills. The idle conversations that had characterized earlier streetlights became impossible as the road meandered endlessly in front of them. Coming into a particularly tight corner, Sarah autonomously squeezed tighter around his waist, in fear of falling right off the bike! At the apex of the turn, she felt the rhythmic expansion of his torso against her squeezed arms and realized he was laughing! Without a single response from the trajectory of the machine, his hand came from the bars and rested gently on her knee. Throughout the remainder of the twists and turns, his hand never left that spot on her knee, and only wavered to squeeze back when her grip tightened across his body, such a simple gesture to assure her that she was secure.

Before too long, he took a turn off of the highway and down a road towards the river. Passing a few fields and industrial facilities, she wondered where in the hell they were headed, when she saw a marine supply store off to her right. ‘’Are we headed towards the water??” She thought to herself? Here excitement grew as they slowed to a crawl and began cresting a small, steep hill. The horizon of the crest gave way to the broken landscape of ships' masts, and he carefully guided the machine across a gravel easement and to a stop.

“Are you taking me to a boat??” She exclaimed.

“Sure am,” he replied, “have you ever been out on the river?”

She replied that she hadn’t, and he was renewed in his sense of urgency, politely, yet urgently, ushering her towards the dock in the hopes that they ‘don’t miss it’.

Still unsure of what it is that they might miss, Sarah was taken in by the man’s charm and focus, even if she was unclear as to what the end goal had in store.

She let him lead her down the docks and into the marina, and gestured towards a vessel at the end of a row. “Do you know how to sail?” He asked.

She replied that she hadn’t done that either, and he assured her that her only task for the adventure ahead was to find a place to get comfortable and enjoy the scenery.

She watched as he puttered around the cockpit of the sloop, preparing lines and idling the engine. For a moment, she became lost in noticing the same casual attitude towards what seemed like important preparation as he’d had towards their first interaction a week past.

“Hop in,” He exclaimed, “we wouldn’t want to be in a hurry!”

She climbed aboard the deck, and no sooner had her feet met the decking in the cockpit did he begin casting off the mooring lines, scampering around the deck like a wild man.

Now underway, Sarah was pleased to realize that the gentle thrumming of the sailboat’s engine did not interfere with conversation as did the powerful roar of the earlier means of transportation. Idle conversation with him was pleasant, though the subject was quickly changed anytime Sarah indicated wonder about what it was they were headed to find. In reaching the main branch of the river, motoring gave way to sailing and the demands upon his time increased yet again, conversely affecting the quality of conversation.

After a short while, the high rises and cityscape began to unfold against the setting sun, and the vessel was maneuvered near the shore. He began issuing instructions to Sarah about setting the anchor. Impressed with his firmness and urgency, she found herself prepared for whatever command was to come, despite having no idea what she was accomplishing. She dumped the anchor, and retreated to the cockpit while he made his final preparations.

He came to seat himself alongside her with a sigh, clearly relieved that they had ‘made it’. She couldn’t resist any longer, and firmly objected to his withholding the true nature of their destination.

“Well,” he smiled, “if you look over to that building over there..” gesturing towards a large high rise along the waterfront, “you’ll notice that, one by one, the lights are being turned on as the sun goes down”.

Sarah looked across the water at the building, and observed the popcorning of the lights flickering on across the exterior landscape of the building.

“The same thing,” He continued, “is going to happen across the entire city as the sun goes down. I thought you’d enjoy to see it from the water.”

Sarah couldn’t have been more ecstatic, as she began soaking in the views of the cityscape in the dwindling sunlight. They spent some time casually chatting and getting to know each other, all the while Sarah was becoming more and more entranced by the twinkle that developed in his eye whenever they crossed into conversations about the possibility of adventure.

“Wine?” He asked, as the conversation began to accelerate.

She vehemently agreed, and he asked “Red or white? I’ve got both, I came out before I picked you up and iced down a white.”

Realizing this is why he had been late for their date, Sarah felt guilty explaining that she was much more partial to a red, though she appreciated the consideration.

“Great,” he replied, “I’ve been saving a Merlot I picked up in Napa for a special occasion. It’s down below deck, go ahead and settle in, I’ll be back with a glass.”

Sarah couldn’t believe this; it hadn’t been but a few hours ago that she was sitting, alone on a park bench, assuming she’d been stood up. Somehow now, she was basking in the twilight of a beautiful summer day, watching the lights of the city twinkle on, one by one, waiting for a glass of Merlot and the company of a uniquely fascinating new companion.

Thus far, she had been whisked away by his mysterious adventure, and had been entirely smitten in watching him take the reins and lead her in the direction they’d gone. Now, she decided, was her turn to throw him for a loop.

Looking out over the bow of the vessel, Sarah got an idea. She’d have to be quick, as he would be back any moment with the wine. She swiftly climbed over the bulkhead to the foredeck and stripped out of her denim jacket and jeans. Laying them out across the deck, she was grateful that she’d chosen a flannel button-down to compliment her unusually specific outfit requirements for the evening. Removing and bundling the garment gave her a comfortable place to stretch out, and she playfully positioned herself facing out over the water.

She heard him coming up from below deck, wine in hand. He’d look curiously about the cockpit in her absence, she knew, before turning his attention towards the rest of the boat.

Laying on her stomach, she playfully entwined her legs in the air as though innocently passing the time until his return. She heard the pause in his step as he looked around the cockpit, and smiled as she imagined the expression on his face as he turned forward, across the deck, to see the sun streaming its last moments of orange warmth across her bare skin, goosebumped by the cool evening breeze.

Behind her, she heard a crash, and a breaking of glass. “Shit.” He muttered.

Smiling, knowing she’d managed to surprise him as much as he’d surprised her, she replied, “Don’t worry, we could drink it out of the bottle!”