THE MOTION OF THE OCEAN

Jack met Lucy and knew instantly she was the most beautiful person he would ever know. He was dogged and diligent and occasionally exciting. She had fielded hundreds of offers but something about his passed muster. They made it Instagram-official. They synced up a drum track on a story. They boarded the boat that they had paid for, halfsies, and took up position on the rail, waving in full view of his reverse-angle camera as if they were launching for Europe. In truth, it was only Amber Cove and back. Nevertheless, thus began their life as indentured lovers. They grabbed at each other wherever and whenever they could, removed each others’ clothes like they were stains. Jack was not a practiced Casanova but the boat rocked enough to assume some of his burden. Lucy was carefully kind in touching him and eventually he saw the humiliating truth, that she was making special accommodations. On their second night they met another couple that had about them an air of obnoxious confidence. The man, named Ken, dropped names like anchors as Jerry felt the waves of his self-doubt surging. The woman, (nick?)named Cookie, told stories mostly about herself, and mostly about how she became the kind of woman who told stories. “Honeymoon?” Ken leered. Cookie joked about swinging and Lucy joked about taking it seriously. The conversation stumbled briefly into significance when Ken noted that a friend of his (also a famous actor) had hit someone with a car. He had gone to a special church to shake off the stink of the incident. The idea was that no one bore full responsibility for anything. “The Therapeutic Thesis,” said Ken, like he was naming a pub. That night the two women drank too much and the boat rocked some more. Lucy, tee-heeing, of Cookie: “She in computers,” pronounced com-poo-ters. Ken invited Jack to smoke something, and while Jack declined, he second-handed enough to send him to bed early. It was then that a dream intruded, a dream of the waking variety. Jack, still an adult, was back in grade school, not doing well, standing with the teacher as she phoned his parents and told them they had to come in. “Bring a rod and a reason,” she said. Jack woke, gasping, alone, seasick, silly, with neither.

©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas