The Inflatable Dragon

*

On the island, the drone operator said to his drinking buddy, “Man, you can’t believe what I’m seeing!”

His buddy, without moving from his prone position on the blanket, replied, “You’re right. I can’t.”

“Check it out,” said the operator, holding the control down low.

“That’s all right. I think I’ll keep my eyes closed. I’m a little dizzy. You describe it. I’ll have another sip and listen.”

“You wuss. Who’s gonna steer when it’s time to go home?”

“I’ll be all right. You carry on. What is it that I can’t believe?”

“These two kids are out there in a rowboat. The speedboats don’t seem to notice they’re there. They’re blasting right by and the wakes are really rocking the rowboat. The girl is holding on for dear life.”

“Serves ‘em right. They oughta leave the ocean to the grownups.”

“Wait, wait. Now there’s some guy in an old-fashioned cabin cruiser who’s circling them. He’s going slow, so his wake doesn’t bother them, and he’s cutting them off from the speedboat wakes. And he’s got an inflatable dragon on top of the cabin!”

**

Dressed in dry tee shirts and shorts of Noah’s and with their hair towelled dry, Betty and Noah sat in the backyard by the wild roses.

“This is where Ma Bertie liked to sit,” Noah said. “She said the roses took her mind off things. This is right where she was sitting when she passed.”

The fog was back in and the wind was back up and some petals were lifted and launched. The light floral fragrance blowing by them somehow made it easier to breathe again.

“I thought we were gonna die,” said Betty.

Noah felt with the tips of his fingers the blisters in the palms of both hands. His hands were calloused but in his all-out efforts to row them away from the speedboats, blisters had formed anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s like we had stopped being human for them … or they had stopped being human.”

“I’d hold your hand but my hands are too sore.”

She bounced out of her chair and into his lap instead. “And the dragon guy,” she said, “what made him do that funny dance? I felt like I was in a pot and he was a cannibal doing a ritual while I cooked.”

Noah didn’t want to talk. He kissed the salty curls at the back of her head. “Betty,” he said softly.

“I know, I know. I’ll shut up.”

“You can keep talking if you want to. I don’t mind.”

But she didn’t, and so it didn’t matter if he minded or not. And neither of them minded the soothing sound of the surf somewhere off in the fog.


16 July 2024
Texas Jim
Prospect, Nova Scotia
www.granitecoast.ca