So the boat is still in the driveway.
Now there appears to be some sort of problem with the motor. The name of this problem, as far as I can tell, is . . . The motor won’t start or turn at all because it is stuck or frozen who the fucks knows but this is not good and then there is incoherent cursing and banging and random kicking of the smaller badly behaved dog who then bites Mark on the ankle because the smaller badly behaved dog is not putting up with displaced aggression aimed in his direction he does not give a SHIT about the boat he is the DOG goddamn it and you better watch your fucking step.
Mark sinks crabbily into the couch and tends to his nibbled ankle.
The girls and I sit with him.
There is silence for a few minutes as we try to decide how angry Mark is and how best to offer comfort.
Finally, Maj leans forward and picks up the enormous reference book on boating Mark checked out of the library, “Hard to believe there is this much stuff to know about boats.”
Kallan leans forward to feel the heft of the book, “Wow, that’s a huge book. You should write a book, Daddy.”
Maj sets the book down on the coffee table with a thud, “Yeah, Daddy . . . you have been doing all sorts of work on our boat. You could write a book.”
Kallan leans forward across the table, her face filled with sincerity, “You could write a book called Driveway Boating.”
I choke back laughter.
Maj picks up where her sister left off, “Yeah, there has got to be a market for a book about boats that never make it to the water. Ours can’t be the only boat that likes to stay parked close to home.”
Kallan flips through the reference book, “Daddy, you could so write a book! It wouldn’t even be that hard, because think of all the things you would not have to discuss . . . like the rules of passing, for example. Your book would not need a chapter on passing other boats.”
Maj leans forward to look at the table of contents, “There’s actually a whole lot of stuff in here that doesn’t so much apply if your boat never touches water.” She ticks them off, “Lights, flares, navigation, safety, boating laws . . . none of this stuff needs to be in your book.”
Kallan giggles, “So really, Daddy? Maybe not a book so much as a pamphlet.”
Maj giggles, “Yes, Daddy. A pamphlet on Driveway Boating . . . do it, Daddy! There is a need for this pamphlet. You need to share your knowledge with the world.”
Mark stares at them, and then he looks over at me, gestures at our two giggling daughters with a wave of his hand, “This is all your fault, Kris.”
I am laughing too hard to defend myself.
Mark pushes himself up off of the couch and heads into the kitchen to make some coffee.
We follow him.
He stands and leans back against the kitchen counter as he waits for the coffee to brew, “I guess the pamphlet could have a chapter about sitting in your boat and drinking beer.”
I smile, “Yes! Drinking beer and waving at the neighbors as they drive past your house!”
Kallan is delighted, “Yay! And Maj and I could wear our bathing suits and do a booty dance of boating joy!”
Maj shakes her head, “No booty dance, but we could fill up the inflatable pool and jump out of the boat into the pool!”
Mark giggles, “I could send out SOS signals with our air horn!”
I high-five Mark, “We could get you a pirate hat! The neighbors are going to love us!”
Mark pours himself some coffee, “Or . . . We could just teach the girls to row the boat with oars. No need for a motor when we’ve got two strong children who know how to row.”
Maj and Kallan look at him doubtfully.
I walk across the kitchen and snuggle up against Mark, “Yes! The girls can row the boat! This is a genius plan!”
Mark sips his coffee and reaches his arm around to pull me close, “Course, we’ll have to teach Maj and Kallan how to synchronize their efforts or we’ll just be splashing forever and not going anywhere.”
“Yes, what’s the name of that guy who bosses everybody on the crew team? The coxswain?” I bring my hand lower and between our bodies, “Yes, coxswain . . . pretty sure that’s right.”
Mark giggles, “Yes! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Get this boat moving! Stroke! Stroke!”
The girls stare at him.
Maj speaks for the two of them, “No way are Kallan and I rowing the boat. No way.”
Kallan shakes her head in agreement, “She’s right, Daddy. No way. We are going to need to get that motor running.”
Mark yells after them as they race off to play in the back yard, “I am working on it!”
I giggle into Mark’s chest, my hand still pressed between us.
Mark leans to kiss the top of my head, and whispers, “Stroke . . . stroke.”
Motor?
Running.
Now . . . about that boat.
Snort!
