Potential

I wrote this story on a whim last year. I just decided to upload it and see what you think. Truth be told, I haven't read this in a few months.

Ships sink. Throughout the ages, people have always been drawn to the ocean.  People have sailed millions of miles despite the conditions. It used to take a sailing ship, back in 1770, months to go across the ocean, but still people went. Ships sank. People disappeared off the face of the Earth while sailing on the ocean, yet people still set foot on the ships. Although the ships got better over time, ships still and always will sink. I don’t know why I am so fascinated by the ocean, but that fascination led me off the beach with my shortboard in hand. I was going to buy a sailboat.

I walked down the pier to the run down little office at the corner and entered the office. A broken window air conditioner blew hot air onto my already sunburned face. The man behind the main desk, in the middle of the cramped office, kept his eyes on the stack of papers in front of him. I cleared my throat to grab his attention, but he didn’t give me so much as a glance. I then said as confidently as I could, “I would like to buy a boat.”

“Yeah, and I want to be Bill Gates.” He replied without looking up.

“What I mean is, do you have a two-man racer with a fiberglass hull and flukes?”

“I only have one boat, and she is a fixer upper.”

“I don’t mind.”

 He led me down the dock to a piece of junk that barely resembled a sailboat. Its paint was peeling. Its mast was cracked. Its sails were torn. I don’t know why I bought it. I think it had something to do with that I felt bad for the piece of rubbish. When it was attached to the back of my car, I noticed the boat’s rudder was a hair from falling off the boat all together. I drove past the beach where all of my old high school friends were surfing. I pulled over to the beach to go join on a surf and tell my friends about my piece of garbage, when Cole duck dove and ran over to me.

Cole was never fond of me before. Back in high school, he never even looked at me because he was the good-looking surfer, and I was just Kalea; I was just the regular girl who surfed in her free time. The only thing that has changed is that I now go to college on the island.

            “Kalea! Did you really buy a boat?” asked Cole.

            “Yes, Cole, but I am going to get rid of it.”

            “Why would you get rid of her? She’s beautiful.”

            “Did you hit a rock when you duck dove to get here? This boat is shot. The hull is duct taped shut, the sails in shreds, and the rudder even fell off on the freeway. There is no hope for this boat.”

            “We can fix it.” His perfect features got to me, and I said yes.

            “Why do you want to do this with me?”

            “Because I see potential.” I wondered what he saw potential in, but he did not elaborate.

We spent months fixing the hull properly and peeling the paint off the fiberglass hull. We repainted it the unlucky color of the sea, blue; we fixed the mast, and we bought a new sail.

            One day Cole came to fix the boat, he showed up with a large cardboard box.

“Kalea, I got you a little something for the boat.” I opened the box to find a fluke laying on a myriad of packing peanuts.

“It’s a fluke,” he continued, “like a whale tail. It is the fastest rudder on the market. It has almost zero drag, and it removes direct stress from the keel.”

“I know. I wanted a fluke, but the guy at the marina thought I was a joke.”

“We are going to win the races.”

We named her Océane, which is French for ocean.  Oceans can kill, yet they bring life. The ocean is beautiful, but it can be ugly when there is a storm brewing. We brought Océane to the marina to begin sailing.

“Cole, have you ever sailed?”

“My father and I used to sail all the time. We owned a blue water cruiser. We sailed out by Kauai when we hit a storm. The boat sank. I have never sailed since. Now just remember balance and structure, and you’ll be fine.

I sailed Oceane for two minutes before I capsized her. Cole assured me that that was normal and I would capsize her over and over. He righted her and repeated,

“Kalea, this is all about balance. Trust Océane. Feel the ocean.”

“Cole, why are you suddenly a sailor? Why aren’t you back on your surfboard?”

“I fell in love with something else. Trust your reactions and your gut.” I began to sail Océane again.

“I’m doing it, Cole! I’m doing it!” I capsized the vessel. Cole taught me for weeks, and each day, he was forced to right the boat. After a month’s worth of lessons, I could sail the boat without capsizing, Cole then entered us in our first race. We were against veteran sailors.

The morning of the race was crisp and clear. The wind blew port side. We were on a beautiful lead. People capsized all around us, but we kept on sailing. Cole worked the rudder, he expertly steered us away from all the capsizing vessels. We kept shifting our weight from port to starboard to gain speed and reduce drag.

“Kalea, on my mark, bank hard to starboard!” called Cole.

“Cole, we’re going to crash into the other boat!” I shouted back.

“This is going to work, Kalea. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Ready!” he paused for a moment, “Now!”

            I manipulated my weight and the sail to the starboard side. We just passed the lead boat and crossed the finish. Cole jumped over the ropes on the boat and landed in front of me at the bow. He put his hands on both of my cheeks and kissed me quickly on the lips. He lowered his hands to my hips and leaned his forehead on mine. He whispered, “I told you I saw potential. I realized he was never talking about Océane.

© 2011 Julia Mancini

 

Author's Note

What do you think of an hour of writing on a whim? Be honest please.

Reviews

[Sean Someplace]

I think your writing itself is wonderfully crisp, clear and direct. As to the story itself, a few criticisms that I hope you take as constructive:

Firstly, the story opens talking about sinking ships, and then later on you even add a randomly placed paragraph about death on the sea as you name your vessel. Yet, none of it was relevant to the story. If you took out the first paragraph and the one about naming the boat Océane, the story would be wholly unaffected. I suspect, however, that you intended something with their inclusion but it just didn't come across. Something about ships being relationships or something, possibly, but I couldn't get it.

Secondly, I feel that you glossed over Cole's introduction of and development of the relationship with him. Suddenly he's there, for no reason, giving all of himself to you. That part did not seem very organic to me. Spending more time on that relationship would make the story compelling. Why did he suddenly love you? Why on earth did he see potential way back then?

Finally, the very last sentence is akin someone telling a joke, and having to explain the punchline. If the reader was unable to see what was going on and needed that explantion at the end, they wouldn't have appreciated your work at all anyway.

For an hour of writing, it's a wonderful start. You write very well and keep your reader engaged. I wish you the best.