All At Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B

now.
    On the ride over, I imagined you being sad and lonely, sitting in a corner reading bloody Jane Austen or something, and I was going to come in and take your hand and we’d dance and you’d smile and be awkward in a cute way. That was how it was going to go.
    But then I got here and they nearly didn’t let me in because I look drunk, which I am. Then I wandered around looking for you, and I came across you in the billiard room, with that dress on, and like, ten guys shuffling around the room so they could get a better view when you stretched across the table. I mean, how much plyometrics have you been doing? Because your glutes are lik
     
     
    Sunday 23 rd February 1.47am
    —Waikiki Yacht Club—
    Oops. Sorry! Meant to hit delete.
    Anyhow, you didn’t see me, but I stood around the corner and drank heavily and watched you totally shark all of those yacht club boys. You did that thing when they’d be about to take their shot and you’d swing your hips just a little bit and they had no chance of making the pocket after that.
    So I’m not worried about you anymore. You’re doing just fine. You’re not missing me at all.
    Anyway, I’m kind of rambling now, and the cab is pulling up, but it was great to see you looking happy.
    And also a kick in the guts.
    But a good one. You can kick me in the guts whenever you want.
    Now I’m trying really hard not to send this message.
    Fuck it. I’m sending it.
     
     
    Sunday 23 rd February 1.48am
    —Waikiki Yacht Club—
    DON’T READ THAT LAST MESSAGE!
    It was completely inappropriate.
     
     
    Sunday 23 rd February 8.22am
    —Totally Brewed Café—
    OK. It’s morning and I have a headache, and I’m sitting here at the café by the water. You and I have been here on this bench - you drinking your latte when it’s a million degrees, me having my lovely, icy Fat Yak they bring in for me specially.
    No Fat Yak this morning though. Never. Again.
    It’s a beautiful day. Lachie is here with me, finishing a milkshake. Sucking on the end of it so it makes that hideous slurping noise. And he stinks. (Remember that about him. He’s handsome, but he’s a player, and he stinks.)
    In a moment I’m going to pick him up and hurl him into the waves. He’s watching me over the top of his metal cup. Grinning milk moustache. I can see his quads flexing, waiting for it. He loves a wrestle, does our Lachie. He has serious martial arts training. If he really wanted to pin me, he’d have no trouble.
    I’m assuming you read it.
    The plain fact is that I do miss your company, since we’re not instructor and student any more, and I think we could have a go at being friends.
    Do you think we could be like, platonic? I mean in the classical sense. We could totally nut out metaphysics between us. Hammer out the merits of divine madness. Don’t you think?
    Would you be interested in that? You have obviously found a real life use for trigonometry. Come down by the sea and sit with me and drink latte with your pinky out. We can scratch out equations in the sand.
    But if you could wear a kaftan or a toga or something, that would be very helpful with maintaining the platonicness on my part.
     
     
    Sunday 23 rd February 9.26am
    —Fitness Center at Waikiki Yacht Club—
    We can have a go at being friends. I’ve missed hanging out with you, too. Been up to anything good?
    Amelia’s Four-Day Update: 1.) We moored at Hilo for a night. I did this moonlight volcano hik e with my mom. Molten lava. Very cool. 2.) I made some friends. Konani’s daughter is my age. Cristina. We drove around Honolulu last night and ate breakfast at midnight. And then there’s this girl Jacqueline from Boston five slips down. She’s twenty-one. I’m still trying to figure out if she’s for real or just putting on her Desperate-For-Vacation-Friends face. 3.) My surfing—and I’m using the term loosely—is in a state of de-evolution. Not having you next to me is a problem. I’m back to ankle-wading. Wah!