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Chapter Thirteen - Aloha, Rosie

"What do you want to say to this man, Joshua?"

Tito had the scrawny teen that had jacked up my boat by the back of his collar. The boy stared at the ground, his jaw working furiously from side to side. Tito gave a sharp tug to the fabric and the boy blanched.

"I'm sorry 'bout your boat," he said quickly.

"And?" Tito pressed. The boy looked up, his brown eyes rolling in annoyance.

"And I hope you have a safe trip." His voice was a little less than sincere. Tito sighed, dropping his hand. "Go," he said. Joshua didn't need to be told twice. He ran back up the dock, his sneakers slipping slightly on the slick surface.

"He's gonna kill me yet," Tito muttered. He yanked up his pants and knelt down next to his tool box.

Between the time I had left Rosie at the restaurant and Tito's early morning arrival with my missing part, I had only managed to get an hour's worth of sleep. I rubbed at my cheek, stifling a yawn.

"Heard about those turtles," Tito said. "Amazing sight, no doubt."

"It was wonderful," I agreed. I glanced at the water, remembering how the turtles were picked up and carried off. I wondered for a moment if they had been scared. It amazed me that they could just pick up and move on so soon after birth.

"You leaving today?"

I glanced back at Tito. "Yeah. As soon as you're done, actually," I said.

"I'll be about a half hour. Why don't you go up to the restaurant and get some breakfast?"

The thought held appeal. Even though I had told myself last night I wouldn't say good-bye, it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Maybe I will," I said. Tito smiled. "Best to set sail on a full stomach, bro."

I gave him a little mock-salute before turning towards the row of restaurants. I slid my hands in my pockets. It was still early, but I could tell that it was going to be a scorching hot day. Even though my walk was short, my forehead was damp by the time I got to the restaurant. I pushed open the door and headed inside.

The restaurant was quiet. I looked around and took a seat at the counter.

The minutes passed. I expected to see a pair of bright green flip flops walk out of the kitchen. I expected a one-armed waitress holding a coffee pot.

You could have heard a pindrop. I got out of my seat and walked into the kitchen. It was empty. I frowned. I walked back out into the restaurant and glanced around. My eyes stopped on one of the booths.

A plate of homemade donuts and a glass of orange juice sat on the table. A small folded piece of paper was propped up on the glass. I walked over and picked up the paper. The handwriting was horrible. The front of the paper just said 'Nick,' but it took me several seconds to even decipher that it was my name. Inhaling deeply, I opened the note.

Nick,

I wasn't sure if you were going to come by before you left. I made these donuts just in case. You've never tasted better. They're an old family recipe and----damnit, I'm horrible at goodbyes, so...

Aloha - Rosie


I re-read the note three times before I sank down in the soft booth. I stared at the plate. The donuts were still warm. I brought one to my mouth, biting down into the soft dough. They were amazing. The cinnamon sugar exploded in my mouth. On any other occasion, they would have been blissful; however, Rosie's note made them only bittersweet.

I picked my way through a couple donuts and the glass of orange juice. I took my time, thinking that she might return. When the hands of the clock above the doors to the kitchen hit ten, I knew I had to go. I stood up and slid the note in my pocket.

"Aloha, Rosie," I whispered. Squaring my shoulders, I headed back out into the day.

Tito was repacking his toolbox as I neared the boat. He looked up, shielded his eyes against the sun, and smiled. "All set. Hope you don't mind, but I started her up." He held up the keys. "I wouldn't leave these on the boat, y'know. She'll be stolen for sure."

"Thanks," I said. I took the keys. "She's running fine?"

"Purring like a kitten. I had to run home and get some new wire, but besides that it was mostly the missing part that was the trouble. I saw you sitting in the booth all alone. Where was Rosie?"

I ran my thumb over the jagged edge of the key. "I don't know," I said honestly. "She left some donuts."

Tito rubbed his giant gut. "Donuts? Oh, it's a rare occasion when Rosie makes those. How she did the dough with one arm..." he trailed off. "They were amazing weren't they?"

Even though he was staring at me, I could only see visions of sugary treats in his eyes. I nodded. "Delicious. I only ate a couple. There's three left."

"Well, I did work up an appetite..." Tito trailed off. He turned back to me. "Anything else you need, son?"

"No," I said. My fist tightened around the keys. "Thank you for everything."

"It was the least I could do."

Tito picked up his toolbox and lifted his hand. I returned the salutation and climbed aboard the boat.

"Have a safe trip!" Tito called as I inserted my key.

"Thanks," I called back. I turned; he was already heading back towards the restaurant.

As promised, the boat started right up. I ran through my mental checklist and made sure everything was ready to go. I undid the anchor and returned to the wheel. My hands wrapped tightly around it.

After standing there for ten minutes, I knew I was hesitating and it bothered me. I pulled out a pair of sunglasses, put them on, and set my sight forward. The boat lurched forward, righting itself immediately as it clipped through the water. After about fifteen minutes, I looked back.

The dock looked like just another dot.

Even though I was exhausted, I felt the need to put a great deal of space between me and the place I had just left. With each mile, I felt the invisible strings that had wrapped around me snap away. I had my solitude back.

Around three o'clock, I slowed everything down and let the boat drift. I headed below deck, barely ducking in time to keep from hitting my head. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

The exhaustion overwhelmed me. I remember my head hitting my pillow, but not much else. The softness took me in.

And I was out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I awoke to a strange feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something seemed off. I sat up and looked around. Nothing was out of place. The boat was still rocking gently.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. After completing my business, I did a quick inventory. Again, everything was fine.

Feeling paranoid, I climbed back up on deck and looked up at the sky. The sun had already set. The sound of the blue-black water lapping against the boat was perfectly combined with the strong smell of salt water. As the salt invaded my nostrils, I inhaled greedily. Finally relaxing, I turned around.

I screamed.

She screamed. The bottle she was holding slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. Foamy suds splashed across my feet. My heart felt like it had torn out of my chest and dived over the side of the boat.

"What are you doing here?" I said in a voice not my own. It was several thousand octaves too high.

Rosie stared at the broken bottle for another couple seconds. Slowly, she looked up at me, her green eyes wide. She broke into a confident smile.

"You need a first mate and a cook. And I just so happen to be up for both jobs. Do you have a mop?"