Death of a Lobster Lover

The first summer after my divorce I decided it might be a good idea to take the kids on a weekend getaway. It had been a particularly rough and busy couple of months for all of us dealing with life without a husband and father in the house, and I wanted to make sure the kids were adjusting well with all the big, monumental changes so I planned a mini vacation of hiking and swimming in Southern Maine near the coastal town of Kennebunkport. I found a quaint little hotel with a swimming pool on the outskirts of town. The kids were ecstatic. We had barely walked into our room before they were changed into their bathing suits and racing for a dip in the pool. I was happy to be left on my own to stretch out on the bed and dive into the new Lisa Jackson novel I was dying to read before dinner.

Later that evening, as we walked the short distance to a local favorite seafood restaurant the desk clerk had told us about, Gemma was still chattering on and on about the impossibly cute boy her age she had met at the pool that afternoon. Dustin hung back, rolling his eyes, speaking volumes with his facial expressions. He was not as impressed.

After the hostess seated us and Gemma was still talking about “Hot Sean,” I knew I was going to need a stiff cocktail. One stood out on the menu, a delectable-sounding chilled rum and orange juice cocktail called Mountain Sunset. It was a done deal. We ordered a round of Lobster-Stuffed Mushrooms for our appetizer, and Dustin and I devoured the whole plate because Gemma was too busy talking to put anything in her mouth. When she noticed the empty plate, she insisted we order another round, which we did in addition to another Mountain Sunset Cocktail for Mother, because I knew in my gut we were in for a long, chatty night.

By the time our entrees arrived, Gemma dropped the bomb that “Hot Sean” had invited us all to go boating with him and his father the following day.

I noticed Dustin shaking his head vigorously from side to side, making clear his wishes, and counting on me to put a stop to this crazy idea right now. He knew I had been making a concerted effort to keep him happy during this difficult time of upheaval, and was not above using that to get what he wanted.

“Gemma, I’m sure your new friend meant well, but his father probably won’t appreciate him inviting total strangers on a boating trip,” I said.

She was ready for that one.

“No, his father was there when he invited us! He encouraged the whole thing! And FYI, mother, Sean’s dad is a total hunk! Plus, he’s recently divorced, just like you!”

The last thing I needed in my life at that point was a fix-up. But Gemma was so excited, and Dustin needed to learn a lesson about not always getting his own way, so after one more sip of my Mountain Sunset Cocktail, I sighed and said, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Dustin was apoplectic. He had visions of hanging by the pool the whole weekend and playing video games on his phone. This was not part of the plan! But I had visions too. Baking in the sun with lots of wine and cheese on board a beautiful yacht sailing around the harbor off Kennebunkport. You certainly couldn’t beat that!

Gemma gave me the cell number of Sean’s father, Dave, after we returned to the room, and I called him to confirm the details. He sounded very pleasant, with a deep, masculine voice, which I hate to admit, sent shivers up my spine. Dave gave me an address for our GPS and told us to be there at eight in the morning. After I hung up, I kept picturing my TV crush Mark Harmon on the other end of the phone and I melted.

No! Stop it, Hayley! I said to myself. The last thing I needed or wanted in my life was a relationship with a man because now was the time to focus on the kids and myself.

The following day, as I punched the address into our car’s GPS, I was a little surprised to see we would be heading north away from the coast. But I didn’t question it. We ended up driving forty-five minutes until we pulled up to the side of the Kennebec River. Suddenly my stomach started to churn as I realized what was happening. We weren’t going sailing along the coast in a yacht. We were going white-water rafting!

Dustin glanced out the window, and as it hit him what we were about to do, he yelled, “Mom! Put the car in reverse! Let’s get the H out of here!”

Gemma whipped her head around in the passenger seat and hissed, “You better behave today!”

And then she jumped out of the car, all smiles, and waved as Sean bounded up to greet us. A short distance behind him was Dave, who was a far cry from Mark Harmon. He was actually more handsome! In fact, he took my breath away, like that old ’80s song from the cute shaggy-haired crooner Rex Smith!

Both father and son were tanned, had toothy white smiles, and were dressed exactly alike in crewneck T-shirts, cargo shorts, and boat shoes.

After the introductions, Dave led us down to the river where our raft awaited. I led Dustin by the arm, squeezing it tight to make sure he didn’t make a run for it. Dave helped us on with our life vests, and as he smiled at me, and strapped me into my vest, my heart was racing and I thought to myself, How bad could this be?

Well, as it turns out, bad. Really bad.

In fact, it was a horror show! We had barely set off from the river’s edge before we found ourselves being knocked around, tossed up in the air, drenched in water as the raft crested over the raging white-water rapids. Gemma, who had been holding hands with “Hot Sean,” bolted away from him and scrambled over to hug me tightly. We were both terrified as we screamed at the top of our lungs, praying to make it out of this whole ordeal alive!

Dave, who looked exhilarated, sat in the back of the raft with a paddle in one hand and fist-pumping the air with the other, loving every minute of it.

He shouted to us, “This trip is well known for its eleven rapids that are classified as IV and V rapids! Isn’t it awesome? What a rush!”

I hated him.

He was no Mark Harmon.

Mark Harmon would have known I was not enjoying this, and found some way to get me and my kids off this hair-raising hell ride!

Gemma felt the same about “Hot Sean” as he was a carbon copy of his dad, waving the paddle and fist-pumping, laughing and whooping as we careened down the rapids.

Then I had a horrible thought.

Dustin.

What happened to Dustin?

Had he fallen overboard?

I looked around and saw him holding on to the ropes on the side of the boat completely soaked, screaming and shouting with joy, having the time of his life as the waves completely washed over him, the video games awaiting him on his phone the furthest thing from his mind!

After thirty more of the scariest minutes of my life, the rafting nightmare came to a merciful end. As did Gemma’s budding romance with “Hot Sean.” We were both sore, soaked, and shivering and threw ourselves on the ground, thankful to finally be on dry land.

Dustin, on the other hand, was jumping up and down, begging Dave to let us do it again. I politely declined with a tight smile on my face. Gemma waved good-bye to “Hot Sean” without even a quick peck on the cheek, and I could tell from the disappointed look on his face that he knew his short-lived weekend romance was definitely over.

We hightailed it out of there and back to the hotel while Gemma lamented that she should probably give her eighth-grade suitor Stewie another chance because he had brains, and was captain of the Chess Club, and wanted to do whatever she wanted to do. Gemma was officially over her jock phase.

Dustin was disappointed we wouldn’t be going back out on the rapids that weekend, so we tried to make up for it with some more Lobster Stuffed Mushrooms at our favorite nearby eatery, which I have to admit I chased down with a couple of Mountain Sunset Cocktails in order to recover from my recent near-death experience.