Mastermind

When I was 35 I owned a boat. Ol' Precious. I don’t have her any more, as you can see from the blank space in my driveway, but she used to be there. Look me in the eyes when I tell you she was beautiful. That way you’ll believe me more. 

Every part of her was beautiful.  You had never felt anything so smooth. Not that you could. It’s off in New Hampshire or something or other. I sold it to a man out East; he had a funny transatlantic accent, like a distorted voice from a 50’s noire. He said to me, when we first met, that Ol' Precious was just the most precious thing he'd ever seen. And wow! I felt like I was listening to The Honeymooners or something.  And of course you can trust Jackie Gleason with an old Cabin Cruiser.

Excuse me for a second, I think I heard something move inside the kitchen. Never mind, it stopped. Noises, I tell ya. They’re always pulling some tricks.  Sometimes you can’t tell which ones are in the air and which ones are in your head.

Where was I? Lucy! She was at my ma's funeral… then the umbrella accident with the wind, then we talked about the boat, and now we’re at… we were driving home, she in the passenger’s seat, me in the cockpit, and because that was back when the driveway still had the boat in it, we parked right there on the side of the road. She asked me if I loved her. It came out of nowhere. What was I going to say? I didn't know if I even could love anyone. We'd been on and off for a year, and I thought she knew we weren't doing anything serious. I guess during the funeral she got infected with all the emotions flying around. Death scares the youthful, I tell ya. You know when the headlights of a car shines in an animal’s eyes? That’s what I saw that night. Her eyes darted at me like that. Clearly she wanted me to say I loved her. Her demure, small-town heart was so torn-up by the death of my mother, and she desperately wanted to hear some words of reassurement, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. So I said, everything's going to be ok, and I left it at that.

I didn’t feel empty after she left. She went out East to start a career. She's out there now. She never told me what type of business she was going into; I've been trying to figure out what career she's starting, maybe planning parties or something. She always planned a good party. 

So, no, I never felt lonely, but a few weeks after the funeral I started having nightmares. The worst ones, too: robbers. Trying to steal my boat. They would sneak into my house, take my kids—well, I don't have kids but in the dream I had ten baby girls, and I'd try to find them and keep them safe. And I would find knives stuck into the walls.  When I would walk past the knives they would pull themselves out of the siding and stab me wherever they pleased.  I looked everywhere and got stabbed everywhere, but the robbers were nowhere to be seen, and I knew they were going to steal the boat.  I walked through knife after knife to get to her, so she wouldn’t be taken.  I don’t think they ever gave up. Even when I woke up, I was on alert for them. There's a nice desk in my study with the perfect scouting spot.  See that window there? There I sat. I would watch her for hours on end. And, I even—I even—get this, I saw this shadow sprinting after her, and I had to do something, so I jumped off the roof! Literally twisted my ankle! It was all for nothing, though. Turns out the shadow was just Emily’s daughter from next door chasing after a bunny that hopped under the stern. You should have seen her face.  She was just standing there with her little bunny doll, shock stamped all over her.

After that incident, that was when I sold the boat… To Jackie.  I met good old Jackie Gleason online, through Craig’s List. His name was not Jackie Gleason online, it was Charles or some cultish name like that.  You know what’s crazy? He actually knew Lucy. I was telling him about my life and the people I knew, and the moment I started describing her, he said, sounds like my Lucy, like he was her father or something. I said, yeah, my Lucy's got it all. Small world, isn’t it. 

Here, step over here, right on the sidewalk. Look down to the end of the road.  Not more than two cars pass by a day here.  See that house, the one with the dead bushes? No one really lives there. Family’s always out traveling.  The house next door with the front door hanging off? She moved out a couple years back. It’s still for sale. The one further down—that’s got a decrepit old man, who used to be part of a gang, but now the only dangerous thing he does is go on walks dangerously close to the center of the road. Watch those mosquitoes. Now's about when they come out. They love the smell of fresh cut grass. If you look behind past my back yard, you'll see a golf course. And you can see these trees are reaching their last years. This fog that’s in the air has a different volume everyday. We live under the grey here. Now look down this street, and imagine a crimson-red Jaguar driving straight towards us.

That’s what I saw as I’m writing a letter to the old guy down the street in my study. He and I are old-fashioned like that. We write letters to each other and we tell stories in them.  There's not much for entertainment around here, so we make do by ourselves. I was writing to him a story about a robber who doesn't want to be a robber anymore, when I see through the window: Jackie—that’s what I call him—he’s stepping out all confident looking.  He strides through the aging block up to my Ol' Precious.

And just like that, I sold her. For a few grand, too.  That’s gotten me set on groceries for a year, but other than that… I’m sorry. He just—he got my boat. I get emotional thinking about the whole situation. He was vile and happy. He threw me against the side rail and shoved my head into the metal. He smiled at me and spit on me too. I didn’t even do anything, but he was beaming ear to ear with a grin, yelling at me about a girl I didn't even love.  Not really. I tried tugging on his pant leg, but he just took his gun out. I guess it’s a good thing he only shot my arm. Well, it’s not my arm anymore.  Again, I’m sorry, I was supposed to be telling an uplifting story. 

There is something uplifting in what I’m saying. Even though he took her, I… Did you hear that? I really think I heard something inside the living room this time. Look at me so you know I’m telling the truth. There's something inside the foyer. You don’t have to stick around and worry yourself. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Now don't you walk too close to the center of the road. You never know what's gonna come down it.