Tampa, Florida
Part 7

There was something really special about early mornings that I hadn’t noticed before. Spooky even. Everything was so quiet that I could easily hear the sounds my BMX was making as I pedaled along the road leading to the Tampa Marina. Hey, I could even hear my own breathing! So I had to wonder about the noise you’d normally hear during the daytime - traffic, people, and that kinda thing – and how it wasn’t apparent ‘cause you’d gotten so used to it.

I thought about Cody’s Dawn Patrols, and how quiet it must have been out there behind the back line; just listening to the rhythmic lapping of the rising and falling swell against his board, and the squawking of the gulls, while a huge silent orange sun began to climb above Table Mountain, causing the morning mist to slowly give way to the brightness of a new day.

Then I remembered how Cody had once asked Mark to share that experience with him before his bud left Cape Town for Joburg. Cody was always into sharing. When he thought something was special, he wanted his friends to know about it as well.

I chained my bike to a post, then walked along the wharf to where I knew Mark and the yacht would be tied up. Not all sailors were early risers, though. Most of the boats were just sitting there, idly waiting for their owners to provide a bit of action. Jeez, if I had a boat like one of those I’d wanna live on the damn thing! Some of them were like floating houses!

Mark had his back to me as I arrived. It was a rich berry-brown, broad at the shoulders, with lats like small wings, narrowing to a waist that was having a hard time holding up his shorts. And traveling down from between his shoulder blades to the small of his back was a deep sexy groove that separated the hard muscle on either side. Woohoo! I couldn’t help visualizing what it would be like to do him doggy style. But it was only for a second. Fuck, if he’d known what I was thinking I’d be dead meat.

I placed a foot on the edge of the boat, grabbed the metal safety rail, then swung my other leg over and onto the shiny timber deck. “Howya doin’?”

He turned to face me, smiled, and checked his wrist watch. “Hi, Daniel. I thought I said 6:30.”

“I didn’t wanna be late. Hey, I’m really sorry about last night. I totally fucking lost it.”

“Don’t worry about it. Cody had that effect on people. And still has. You had breakfast?”

“Just a glass of milk. I was too excited. I just wanted to get here.”

“Feel like bacon and eggs? We’re the only ones here. The owner and his family won’t be here until maybe 8:30 or so.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I beamed. “I’ve heard about your cooking. So why 6:30?”

“I figured it’d give me time to show you some of the ropes… enough to give you a job, at least. Can’t have you sitting around like Lord fucking Muck doing nothing.”

I couldn’t believe the kitchen, uh, galley. It was compact, but everything was there. Absolutely everything. Way, way awesome! My mom would’ve gone totally ballistic! And Mark was as efficient as Cody had told me. I watched him lay the strips of bacon in the greased pan atop the gas burner. They began to sizzle immediately, and in seconds the galley was filled with their appetizing aroma. Nothing – absolutely nothing – smelled as good as bacon. OK, so Greg’s armpits came a pretty close second. Heh.

Once the bacon was half cooked, and the coffee was percolating, Mark broke four eggs into the pan, and was careful to keep the yolks intact. “Fried or toasted?”

“Huh?”

“You want your bread toasted or fried in the bacon fat?”

“Oh! Uh… I dunno. I’ll have it the way you have it. Cody was so right, y’know. You really are awesome.”

“Cut the crap or I’ll throw you overboard.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!”

“Wanna bet? So what did he tell you about me?”

I was watching Mark's muscles pop and gyrate with each of his movements as I answered him. “He wrote me every day… almost. He told me how you first met… that thing in the school quad.”

“Calling him a faggot?” Mark cracked at the memory, but didn't take his eyes off the spatula or frying pan. “Yeah, that was an amazing day. The first of many. So, so many. What a helluva dude the Codeman was.”

“He hated you then. So did I.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

Mark placed the cooked eggs and bacon on two heated plates, then started to fry the bread. “Everything?”

“Yeah. You want me to fix the coffee?”

“Sure. Go ahead. Make mine white and one. So tell me, what was your relationship with the Codeman?”

“I loved him. I still do. I wasn’t in love with him, and he wasn’t in love with me, but we were about as close as two buds could get. He was in love with you, though.”

“I suspected that. He never told me, though.”

“He didn’t have the nerve. He knew you’d freak out and give him an almighty fucking lecture.”

“Yeah, I would’ve.”

“And now?”

“He’s not here now, so it doesn’t matter.”

I’d already placed the two mugs of steaming coffee on the dinette table, which were closely followed by two plates of bacon, eggs, and French toast. We sat opposite each other, and sprinkled salt and pepper on our breakfast before getting stuck into it. Mmmm!

“Are you worried about what Cody told me?” I asked after swallowing my first mouthful.

“It was private.”

“Yeah, I guess it comes as a bit of a rude shock or whatever. But he thought you rocked, Mark. Totally ruled. And so do I. Yo da main man, dude. Hey, I mean it. Cody wasn’t telling secrets; he was boasting about being your friend. He idolized the fuck outa you, and I think you know it.”

“It would never have worked. Him and me.”

“He knew that. It broke his heart, but he accepted it.”

“Broke his heart?”

“Sure. When you left for Joburg he was feeling lower than shark shit. Remember that tape he gave you? Shallow Waters?”

“Yeah. Hey, he wasn’t the only one who was feeling down, Daniel. There’s a lot you don’t understand about me. You think it was easy leaving the only true friend I’ve ever had in my whole life? You weren’t on that bus, man, when it pulled away that night. I’ve never told anyone about the emptiness I felt; the feeling that part of me was being torn from me. I’ve never told anyone, not even Cody. You think that was easy? Leaving him behind like that? No fucking way, man. No fucking way. But I couldn’t tell him that. No way. I couldn’t let him know how much he meant to me.”

“You did on the mountain.”

“He told you about that? Fucking hell! What didn’t he tell you? Anyway, someone had to cut the ties. Someone had to hoist the sails and disappear over the horizon. He wouldn’t have done it, so I had to. Our friendship was too intense. Do you understand what I’m saying, Daniel? Too intense. It wasn’t just a buddy thing. It was way more complicated than that, but it had no future.”

“You weren’t so sure about that. You invited him to join you in Joburg and do the yacht thing together.”

“Yeah, I did. I figured that maybe we could have that in common; y’know, sailing in different directions and being independent but still seeing each other from time to time. We could've remained friends and – whatever – without being joined at the hip. It seemed like an ideal compromise. Both of us living in Cape Town would never have worked out. We would have always be in each other’s pockets.”

“Did you love him?”

“What kind of fucked-up question is that? Tell me about someone who didn’t love Cody! Huh? OK, so there were some fuckwits like Alan, the school bully, but they were in the minority. Cody didn’t suffer fools easily." Mark paused a moment to chew and swallow. "Yeah, I loved Cody. I don’t have a problem with that. Only a fool would not love Cody.”

“Only a fool would not love you,” I said before I realized I’d uttered the words.

Mark dropped his guard and smiled at me. It was probably the smile that Cody had appreciated so much, and had seen so many times. “You’re as bad as he was, buddy. Anyway, enough fucking talk. Time to wash the dishes and teach you a few things about sailing.”

A few things? Yeah, right. No-go zone? I thought he might’ve been talking about his crotch. Nope. “You can’t head directly upwind, or into the eye of the wind as we call it, so you tack – a kind of zig-zag course, with the wind first on one side and then on the other. The whole point of the exercise is to fill the sails with wind, which means you can sail pretty much in any direction you want to go except directly into the wind.”

“I kinda wondered about that. Y’know, like if you sail somewhere ‘cause the wind is behind you, how the fuck do you turn around and get back? But now I know. Thanks.”

The awesome hunk went on to tell me about port and starboard, the difference between aft and astern, where the bow and stern were, and all that kinda ‘orientation’ stuff. Then I got the lowdown about masts and spreaders and shrouds and spars and booms and mainsails and jibs and spinnakers and whatever else. How the fuck was a guy supposed to remember all that stuff?

“You get used to it. Besides, when you’re sailing in dangerous conditions, you can’t be yelling at your bud to ‘grab that thingie over there’!” he laughed. “Every single piece of this yacht has a name, and you’ve gotta know what it is as well as what its function is.”

“So what’s my job gonna be?”

“Nothing too hard,” he said as he grabbed a rope. “I’ll teach you how to tie some knots; seven different knots. There are literally thousands of knots out there, but these seven will do most jobs just fine.”

“Knots? Jeez, here’s me getting all excited about sailing and I get to tie fucking knots? What the...?”

“Don’t knock it, bro. The reality is that when you’re part of the boating environment, you’re constantly exposed to wind and waves, both trying their damnedest to knock stuff off your boat, including you. So you’ve gotta take control of the situation by learning to tie proper knots. Now watch me. This is the bowline, also called the sailor’s knot.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Yeah, right, real boring… until you run into a problem at sea. When you know how to tie a knot correctly the first time it’s not only a huge time saver but a big safety factor. A poorly tied knot could lead to loss of gear, failure of rigging or equipment, or even the loss of life.” Mark untied the bowline knot, then asked me to tie it again.

Zip, zip, zip. “Hey, too easy!”

“Yep. Easy to tie, and just as importantly, quick and easy to untie. That’s the beauty of these knots.” Next came the sheet bend (tying two pieces of rope together). Then the clove hitch, round turn-two half hitches, figure eight knot, reef knot, and trucker’s hitch. “OK, practise those knots ‘til you know them by heart, and make sure you remember the name of each knot. I’ve got other things to do before the owner gets here.”

So there I was, sitting like a dork on the fucking deck tying knots. Jeez! Oh, well, I guessed it was an easy way to get a free ride on this totally awesome yacht, and to be with my new buddie, Mark. What a cool guy.

By the time Mark had finished his chores, I figured I must’ve tied a million knots. Heh. Actually, I was pretty proud of my new skill, and happily showed Mark what I’d learned.

“OK, when we’re sailing, I want you to do the rounds of the boat, and check all the knots from time to time, making sure they’re all shipshape. Re-tie any you're not happy with. But don’t get in the way of the crew, and mind your head when we’re tacking. If that boom hits you, I’ll be taking you home in a body bag.”

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