Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“But is it sturdy enough?” she asks me and I nod at her.
“If it makes you feel better, you can do as many loops as you want,” I tell her, undoing the loops now and letting the rope loose.
“What are you doing?” she asks me, shocked as she sees her boat untied again.
“I was showing you how to do it. Now it’s your turn.” I hand her the rope and she just looks at me. “I’m right here if you fuck up.”
“Well, that’s very encouraging,” she mumbles, and it makes me want to laugh out loud but instead I just watch her hands. “Pull,” she talks to herself. “Angle.” She repeats what I did. “Loop de loop.” She makes up her own words. “And stick it in the hole,” she says as she puts the loop around the cleat, “and repeat.” She then looks at me. “I’m going to do three for good measure,” she tells me and does another loop. “And boom.” She does the “throw down the mic” action.
“What boat did you have before this?” I ask her as I rise up. She stands up beside me, looking down at her handiwork.
“Um,” she says, “this is boat number one.” She holds up one finger.
“You didn’t have a boat before this?” My eyebrows pinch together.
“That would be correct.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think these ropes are going to move.” She ignores the shock that is all over my face and walks past me to the middle cleat. “I’m going to tie this one.”
“You don’t need to,” I inform her, but of course she ignores me and does what she wants to do. “But of course, do what you want,” I mumble.
“Thanks, Mr. G,” she says to me and I just stare at her.
“Mr. G?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“I call you Mr. Grumpy,” she admits to me without an ounce of embarrassment. “But I figured it was rude, so I shortened it.”
“Good call.” I shake my head, walking past her toward the back of her boat. I look over and see Beatrice lying on the back of my boat. “You bought this boat?” I stop and look over at her.
“That I did.” She smiles as she walks over to me. I see that her toenails are painted a bright red.
“Do you know how to drive it?” I ask her, even though it’s none of my business.
“I have a license.” She cocks her head and glares at me. I just raise my eyebrows. “I have a captain coming to show me the ins and outs of the boat,” she informs me, “so eventually I’ll know how to drive it.” She walks past me and gets on her boat. “The boat seems more secure,” she says to me. “Now I have to go have a piece of pie.” She smiles at me.
She walks to the sliding door and opens it, and before she steps into it, I speak up. “Xavier,” I say, walking over to my boat with her looking at me, “instead of Mr. Grumpy.” I get on my boat and Beatrice comes off the bench. I look over at her. “Or Mr. G.” I walk over to the door, opening it, and stepping in, leaving her just staring at me.
I step into the cabin and look at Beatrice. “Now what did I do wrong?” I ask her as I walk over to her bowl picking it up. “I can tell you. I did rule number one and rule number two completely wrong, and I even messed up rule number three.” I put food in the bowl and then place it in front of her. “It wasn’t my problem and I didn’t have to fix it.” I stand. “But in my defense, I did it more for me than her.” Beatrice ignores me and my struggles. “She could have hit my boat,” I huff to her, walking over to the fridge. “You think she’s alone on that boat?” I look out the window at her boat and the shades are closed, so I can’t see anything. “Jesus, I’m a Peeping fucking Tom.” I shake my head.
Beatrice looks up once she finishes eating. “You want a cookie?” I ask her and she wags her tail. “This is from the lady next door.” I open the drawer and take a cookie out, holding it to her. “Sit,” I instruct her and she sits, but her tail still wags and makes knocking noises. “We don’t like her,” I remind her. “Right?” I ask her and she just gently takes the cookie from my hand. “She called me grumpy?” I put my hands on my hips. “Me, grumpy,” I huff, looking at Beatrice.
I can’t even put into words how I feel right now. I’m like a full-blown ball of emotions. I’m angry but then irritated and that is making me angry. I think about the words my therapist said: talk it out, put pros and cons to everything. “Could I have been nicer to her?” I say, walking back and taking another bite of the pie. “Sure, I guess.”