In no time at all, we began to talk for hours, each sitting in our own boats, the bows touching occasionally. With our legs crossed and chins resting in our hands, we told each other stories of the places we had been to, of the storms we had gone through and how we had survived. With each line, our stories recreated every mark, every scratch, every chip of paint missing from our boats. It made us realize how strong our little boats really were. And it made us realize their beauty, even if no one else saw it.
Finally, he said, "Hey! I have a rope here. Maybe if we used it to tie our boats together, we wouldn't have to be alone when another storm comes."
"Does it mean that our boats won't get as hurt either?" I asked. The boy thought for a moment. "No," he said at last. "But I think it'll make things less scary and less lonely." So I agreed to tie my boat to his using the rope he offered. From that day on, we never parted.
The days passed, sunny and breezy, light and fun. We told more stories, played games, laughed, sang silly songs, and slept beneath the stars. In a way, he was right: I was all right if I was on my own, but the knowing that I was with another boat, one very much like mine, made things better. It made the times before seem dull in comparison. The water looked bluer, the sun shone brighter, and I even felt better about the way my boat looked. It was no longer shiny and new, but I now appreciated all that it had to show.
Then, one day, the boy was standing up near the bow, a telescope pointed to the horizon. His brow furrowed and his eyes clouded over. Something was wrong.
"What is it?" I asked. "Clouds," he answered. "Big ones. Dark ones. I think a storm is coming."
"Oh," I said. I was a little frightened, but I knew it would be all right. I had been through storms before and knew what to do. Besides, I would have my friend right next to me so I wouldn't have to go through it alone.
"I...I think I should go now," he said, looking away from me.
"What?!" I exclaimed. Thunder rumbled somewhere far off, and I could smell the electricity in the air. My words became stuck in my throat like anchors in mud. "But...but you said...I don't understand. If you're leaving, then why...why can't we go together?"
"The storm's coming too quickly. We wouldn't be able to get away fast enough if we were tied together. My boat can't handle too much damage. It's weaker than it looks."
I looked to the horizon. The storm clouds were getting thicker and heavier, and the wind was beginning to kick up. White caps were forming on the waves that rocked us. I didn't want to be alone, but what could I do? His mind was made up. With my eyes filling up and my hands shaking a little, I untied his rope from my boat. Looking down so he wouldn't see my tears, I handed it to him. "Thank you," I whispered around the lump in my throat."
"If you find me after the storm, we can tie our boats together again," he offered. I knew he was sorry to be leaving. But somehow I knew that if we ever met again, it would not be the same as before. Still, I nodded to show that I had heard him. He waved his farewell as he steered his boat away from the fast approaching clouds. I watched him go, all the while hoping he would change his mind and turn back. It wasn't long before he became a speck in the distance.
As soon as he was out of sight, the wind blew more fiercly and the waves began to splash up against the sides. I hurried to get ready for the inevitable storm, knowing that I would be all right on my own. Even so, the rain inside of me poured down my cheeks as I knew that my friend would not be there with me. I missed him terribly, and wondered if he would be able to avoid all of the storms that would come his way.
***
The storm came and went. I was drenched at the end of it, but waited patiently for the sun to come out so that I could be dry again. My boat suffered little, and the waters were calm again before I knew it. I looked around for the boy and his boat, hoping that since the storm had passed, he would come back. He was nowhere to be found.
The days seemed longer without my friend. There was no one to talk to, no one to pass the time with. I was lonely. Every day I kept hoping to see him, but he never came. Maybe he had not escaped the storm after all. Either way, my friend was lost to me for good. I had no choice but to carry on through each day, one after the other.
One day, when the sun was almost about to begin setting, I spotted something on the horizon. It was so small, it was hard to tell if my eyes were playing tricks. I moved closer and closer. The tiny form became bigger and bigger. I began to see its shape. A large, worn, white triangle sat taut against the blue sky, which was now turning hues of purple and orange and red. The boat below it was much like mine: scratched, gashed, the paint chipped and peeling.
I joyfully called out to my friend. His face brightened like the morning sky. I felt so elated, I didn't know what to say. I tried to come closer, but my hands trembled with such excitement that I could not seem to steer my boat. Finally, I called out, "Throw me the rope!" It took him a minute, but at last, a long white cord came sailing out to me. I caught it and held it in my hands. My fingers rubbed it slowly as I looked down at it. Something was different. The rope; it was not the same one as before. The other one was rougher, sturdier. This one was softer, thinner, and not as sturdy. I was confused.
When the boy pulled me closer to him, he saw my face. "What's wrong?" he asked. I told him. "The rope...how...what happened to the old one?"
"Oh." His face reddened a little. "I lost it," he answered. "In a storm?" I asked. He said nothing, but shrugged his shoulders instead. I peered into his boat. The whole floor was covered in coils of rope of all kinds. Some were thinner than the one I held in my hand, others were thicker and sturdier like the one before.
"Well, we could always use one of those other ones, I guess," I said as I pointed to the sturdier coils.
"Th-this will work fine," he stammered.
"What are those other ones for then?"
"Oh, umm...they're for...for, um...other boats."
"Other boats?" I asked, slowly. "Why would you need them for other boats? I thought...I thought you were...I thought you wanted to be tied to-to my boat."
"I do! I do, it's just that sometimes...well, I can't always be tied to you. I need to go find other boats to...to use the different rope on, see." All of this he said without meeting my eyes.
I did see. I saw that my friend, my boy in his boat, had indeed been lost in the storm and would never come back. The silence seemed to never end. I stood there, rope in hand--a flimsy rope, but a rope nonetheless--wondering what should be done now. Let go and be left alone once again? Or hold on, for however long, and accept what I held there in my hands? The boy never knew, but I had longed for such a rope in times past. But now that I had it, I realized how inadequate it was to what I had before.
"I'm sorry," I said at last. "But I can't use this. I can't stay."
"What?" he asked softly, though I could hear the surprise in his voice.
"I can't...I can't use this now. I can't forget what I had before. You cannot ask me to settle for something less." He nodded, his face stoned with silence. I could feel the tears welling up again, and my throat began to feel clogged. This wasn't fair, but it was what was happening. I had to make a choice. I handed him the rope, just like before, only this time the pain sank in much deeper than before. I tried to not let it show.
"Well. Goodbye then," he said, as he averted his eyes yet again. He placed the rope back into the bottom of his boat, and sailed off. This time I could not watch, knowing it would be the last time I would ever see him. Instead, I sat there, my head buried in my arms, and thought about all I had gained and all I had lost. I thought about my boat as I softly ran my hands over its roughened wood: the storms it had weathered, the days it had seen, how it held me wherever I went--connected to another or no. It wasn't perfect, but it was who I was. It was all I needed.
I lifted my head and felt a breeze brush the back of my neck like a loving hand. I saw birds flying near the setting sun and I could hear their calls. The smell of salt flowed to my nose and I felt the gentle waves caress the sides of my boat. I may have felt lonely, and I certainly felt the pain of his absence and would feel it for some time, but it was then that I knew I wasn't alone. Not really.
THE END
"I am not afraid of storms for I am learning to sail my ship." Louisa May Alcott
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