Spring break was coming to a close, and we were heading back to New York a couple of days early for Donald and Ivana’s wedding. Dad’s tuxedo hung on the back of his bedroom door, and he’d pulled out the suitcases to remind us we needed to pack. Our flight out of the Fort Lauderdale airport was early the following morning, and he didn’t want to leave the packing to the last minute.
Fritz and Coleman had ridden to the park to play basketball, but I hadn’t been in the mood to tag along, so I spent the last afternoon sitting at the edge of the dock throwing stones. Half the boat slips were empty. The boats that remained bumped lightly against the pilings whenever the wake of a yacht reached us from the Intracoastal.
Dad came down looking for us. When he saw Coleman’s mullet net, he asked if it had been rinsed off—it bothered him when people didn’t take care of their tackle. I said it had, and he sat down next to me. He was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but he seemed upset about something.
He lit a cigarette and waited, as if trying to figure something out, then asked suddenly, “Want to take the boat out?”
I didn’t, really. I’d spent the morning riding my bike and an hour watching Coleman casting his net, and I’d just been about to go inside. But I didn’t want to say no. It was our last day, after all, and I liked watching Dad drive—it always settled him. But he surprised me and threw me the keys.
“OK, all yours,” he said.
I got behind the wheel, and he released the line from the cleat and pushed us off. The shadows were lengthening across the inlet, but when I turned into the Intracoastal, the afternoon light shone silver as it reflected off the scales of fish that jumped through the crests of the waves.
Dad lit another cigarette and gazed out over the bow. He and I didn’t talk much anymore, partly because he always seemed to have a lot on his mind but also because I had gotten quiet. In the past, our conversations had largely consisted of me asking questions, and I didn’t do that much anymore. I think my serious turn baffled him, but he took it in stride, and that day I think he was happy to sit next to me in silence while I maneuvered the boat from the Intracoastal into the open water of the Atlantic and gunned the engine.
When we got back to the apartment, Fritz and Coleman were watching a baseball game and throwing a Nerf football across the living room, all sugared up after their run to Cumberland Farms on their way back from the park.
Dad reminded us we needed to pack. Coleman took the hint and left. I followed Dad into his room to get my suitcase. I noticed his tuxedo was gone and figured he’d already put his bag in the car.
After dinner, instead of staying to watch TV with us, Dad said he had some calls to make and went into his room. Fritz and I looked at each other and realized we weren’t going to see him again that night. We packed while The Honeymooners played in the background, then got ready for bed. It was my turn to take the couch, so we moved the coffee table and spread Fritz’s sheet and cotton blanket on the floor. I turned the light off, but we kept the TV on. I stayed awake until the white noise lulled me to sleep.