Megan Hailwood
Cap and Jess had spoken for hours on the boat. They'd set sail from the harbour no later than 9am and now, reaching noon, the horizon blurred into a bubble of blue surrounding them. When far out from shore, on days when the sea is calm, there is a gentle kind of focus which settles over a conversation, a lulling nonchalance which plumps the sag between topics and enhances their interest altogether. Despite not particularly charismatic company, it is very easy to talk on a boat.
This had not gone unnoticed by Jess, who at age 17 engaged with frightful severity with any social endeavour. Jess often found herself flung between personalities like a ragdoll, and though these kinds of inconsistencies are common in young people, Jess worried it exposed her as fickle and out-of-tune. But here and now, Jess felt she had excelled herself in the art of being normal and pleasant company. Still feeling quiet moments with a slight wince, she buried her hands into her shorts pockets and looked down, before finding herself distracted by the cool breeze and dancing water and thinking nothing more of it.
Cap, now a man well into his middle-age, perched much more confidently on the bow of the boat, his legs slightly apart and his back absolutely perpendicular. He sat with great confidence, a) because he knew too well how Jess was feeling, and felt thankful not to be young and confused, but established and comfortable with himself, and b) because it was his boat, and he felt quite proud.
And just like this - in lists - was exactly how Cap saw everything.
"Do you still Dance, Jess?"
"No," Jess replied, though this wasn't strictly true. She had danced a number of times over the past months, though it had been mostly absentminded. A fidget would settle in her toes as she was distracted and she would toy with it for a moment or two before kicking it aside, ignoring how the rhythm still knocked at her knees or her smile grew, how her arms lengthened like the long necks of two elegant swans. She would catch herself and shudder, retracting slowly, straightening her legs and lowering her arms, continuing whatever task had previously occupied her in this, her disappointing reality.
It was not that Jess no longer enjoyed to dance, as was probably all too obvious, but that the audaciousness of such movement expressed a passion in her that she no longer had the colour to wear. 'Passion is best reserved for the glamorous and fancy' Jess thought, feeling sure she had no such qualities. Better to blend in, she thought, better not to draw attention.
"Not so much." She added.
Cap smiled, and considered her. Cap was the kind of person who listened with acute interest and bright eyes. He had a gentle presence, talking slowly and with great care. He seemed to sit with his words before sharing them, ensuring they were warm and welcome to his company.
From her shorts Jess pulled a hand and swept it over her brow. The boat rose and fell with thuds as the tide made knots in the water, which tugged and fell loose again, releasing the thick wooden body of the boat into the face of the sea, like the crack of a whip on the cold ground. Each time the water and the boat collided a spray lifted and covered them both. Jess wrinkled her nose as it tickled her, brushing her cheeks against her shoulder to dry them. She sat down, and rested her back on the inside of the boat, before turning once again to Cap.
"How long?" She asked.
Cap smiled, as though it hadn't occurred to him. "An hour."
Over Cap’s left shoulder the brown leather strap of a satchel began with a buckle, tapering down the side of his body, making him seem long. Jess imagined a very small tailor making endless etchings on the strap, marking inch after inch as he worked to find his way up it. After many moments the little tailor looked up and to his astonishment found that Cap’s body had not yet stopped, and his head and shoulders were buried deep within the clouds far beyond the his reach.
The wind battered Jess' hair into a tangle, so that loose threads looped around her ears and over her nose, and Cap’s cotton collar stood tall and unfolded. Thick fleece overcoats consumed them both, and the steady heat of the sun had blushed their faces. They smiled as Jess fumbled around for her camera, the boat swaying and rocking them - backwards, forwards, backwards - and with it they both looked slightly drunk.
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