He sits beside her, turns the key in the ignition, then gives her the sexiest smile she’s ever seen. He presses the throttle. The engine growls. They begin moving as Frank steers them onto open water. She remembers the life jackets, but now it’s too late to say anything—the boat’s picking up speed. She feels the spray on her skin, the wind in her hair.
“You ever driven one of these?” he asks, shouting to be heard above the motor.
“No!” she shouts back.
Frank eases off the throttle. The boat slows, the engine quiet. Maya sees people in the distance, wading at one of the public beaches she would have attended herself on any other day.
“Switch seats with me,” he says.
She shakes her head. “I’ve never driven a boat.”
“You can drive a car, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then you can do this.”
The boat, gliding slowly now, rocks onto its side as Frank moves to take her seat. Maya moves to the driver’s side mostly just to even out their weight, but then she sits behind the big, gleaming wheel. The lake stretches out ahead of her like open road.
“The throttle’s your gas pedal. Push it forward to go.”
She pushes it too far, and they lurch ahead, kicking up waves. She shrieks. Releases the throttle. The boat rocks forward, then back, a real-world version of the swinging ship ride at a fair. She grips the edge, panicked.
She hears Frank laugh. She turns to him, heart in her throat, as the boat settles. He laughs but not in a cruel way, his voice wide with delight. Maya draws a shaky breath. Her fear gives way to exhilaration, and before she knows it, she’s laughing too. Not because anything’s funny but because she’s okay and intoxicated off danger.
He moves closer, takes her hand, and this time she’s sure he’ll kiss her. She swallows, looks at his lips, leans in closer. She closes her eyes, but instead of kissing her, he lifts her hand and places it back on the throttle.
“You just have to be gentle,” he says. He keeps his hand on hers, easing them forward. They begin to coast. Her pulse pounds. She keeps her eyes on the water. They’re in the middle of the lake now. He lets go of her and settles back into his seat.
“So,” he says. “When do you leave for Boston?”
The question is a splash of cold water. “The week after next. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
Frank is quiet beside her. They’re nearing the far side of the oblong lake, the shore embroidered by forest. Leaves float across the water. She’d been so sure he was into her too. Could she have been wrong? Or is this because she’s leaving?
“Got any plans tonight?” Frank asks.
“Going over to Aubrey’s,” Maya says. “But tomorrow—”
“Hey, Gary!” someone yells.
Maya and Frank turn to see a woman in a kayak two dozen yards behind them. Her features come into view as she glides closer: Silver hair and wiry arms. Good posture. Her smile falls as she sees they’re not Gary.
Frank waves at the woman. “Ready to switch back?” he asks Maya.
She doesn’t have time to react before he’s on his feet, gesturing for her to slide over. The boat sways as they switch positions. He pushes the throttle, eases it up to speed. Maya glances over her shoulder at the woman, getting smaller as they leave her behind. The woman stares after them, her oars still.
“What was that about?”
He shrugs. “Must be a friend of Gary’s.” He slows as he turns, heading them back toward the dock. The boat hugs the shore, giving the kayaker a wide berth.
Maya looks at Frank. He seems calm, relaxed even, head tipped back like he’s enjoying the spray and the sun. But suddenly it seems possible to her that he’s taken the boat without permission. She flashes back to when they met, the cigarette he smoked in full view of the no smoking sign at his job, like he didn’t care what happened, or what anyone thought. And she can’t help but wonder what that feels like, that kind of freedom. The confidence. He hasn’t hurt anyone, so if it’s true—if they’re joyriding in the fancy boat of someone he doesn’t know—she decides she’s okay with it.
They skip across the water, faster than before, and she brims with excitement spiked with fear. What if they get caught? She’s nervous as they pull up at the dock. Frank hops out, agile and quick but not in a hurry. He smiles as he helps her out, but the heat from before is gone. She thinks back over the past half hour, tries to see what she did wrong. He ties the boat to the dock and returns the key to its place in the unlocked storage box.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks as they arrive back at the car, parked in the trees as if hidden. She asks carefully, not wanting to offend him. “Is Gary the guy who owns the boat?”
“He is.”
“Did he really say you could borrow it?”
“Ha!” Frank says. “You can’t be serious.” They get in the car. “Gary and my dad have known each other since the ’80s,” he says. “My dad helped him out once.” There’s a weight to the words, something he’s not saying.
Maya lets it go. She’s inclined to believe him, not for any reason she can point to, but instinctively.
“Speaking of my dad. I need to get back to him.”
“Of course,” she says.
He’s quiet as he drives her home. His mood has shifted. He stares ahead, eyes dark, and she thinks it must be about his father. Frank rarely talks about his father—she still doesn’t know what’s wrong with him or how long he has left—and she assumes this is because the subject is too painful. She wants to ask Frank if he’s okay, but there’s a hardness to him now, a tuck to his chin, a tense jaw. The silence stretches out around them and she starts to worry she’s upset him.
“I had a really good time today,” she says.
“Yeah, me too. Hey, why don’t you throw on a CD?”
Maya feels stung. She’s only known him for two weeks, but it feels like so much longer, and she’s never seen him act this way. She picks up the CD case on the floor. “Any requests?”
He shrugs. “Surprise me.”
She unzips the black case, begins flipping through the plastic sleeves. She sees The Downward Spiral, by Nine Inch Nails, and There Is Nothing Left to Lose, by the Foo Fighters, two bands she hasn’t heard in a long time. Green Day and Rage Against the Machine; apparently Frank likes music from ten years ago. She stops when she sees a homemade mix CD. Her stomach clenches as she reads the words sharpied in black across its shiny front: Songs for when we can’t be together. Love you forever, Ruby.
Who the hell is Ruby?
Maya pretends she didn’t see the message. She flips the page and chooses the next album she sees, Mama Said, by Lenny Kravitz. Frank turns it up, and a few minutes later they’re in front of her house. She dawdles on her way out of the car. “Thanks for the boat ride,” she says. “That was really fun . . .” Do you have a girlfriend, by the way? Maya can’t bring herself to ask. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Hoping to get some work done on the cabin.”
“Cool,” she says, like she doesn’t care. “See you around, I guess.”