FICTION       
"Against those challenges,
​she bought that sailboat."  
​Photo by Weebly.com

June Buys a Boat
by  Vera Jacobson

​My name is Peter, and I want to tell you the story of the woman I love so very much. Her name is June, and I met her two years ago when the Pandemic first started. She is an older woman yet attractive. She wears big glasses, has uncontrollable curly hair, and should lose ten pounds, a constant struggle. She exercises daily by walking five miles, and I am only too happy to accommodate her. She is organized, caring, and smart. She loves me as much as I love her. I understand June. I don't know how, but I get her, as many do not.
 
For example, she likes to party, dance, and have fun with many people, yet she loves her quiet time with me. June is a reader. I love sitting right next to her while she reads. June plays Chopin when alone. But when it is party time, she puts on Industrial-Strength Techno or Old-School Funk. She is a woman of many contradictions, and that is what makes her hard to figure out. It is also why I love her so very much.
 
If you are going to love June as I do, first you should know a bit about me. I have been told that I am good-looking with a small but sturdy stature, honey-colored skin, and root beer-colored eyes. Yes, the ladies tell me my eyes make me a stunner. They say they are "soulful," or "deep," or "communicative."  Whatever. I guess it is my eyes that attract the babes. June says my eyes were what did her in. Good. I am glad about that.
 
My body is firm, taught, and tawny. I love my body and take good care of it as it serves me well. Hygiene is an immense value to me, and June continually tells me how much that means to her. Discipline is in my nature, so I sleep, eat, and exercise daily to be the best I can be. You see, June and I value the care of our bodies in the same way. She does not see me as a muscle nerd or a health geek. She appreciates the care and work I give to my body as she does the same.
 
As noted, June and I are strangely compatible. Our timing is extraordinary. We get hungry, express the need to move our bodies, and sleep on the same schedule. It seems odd that we get along so well because we have many differences. For example, I am mostly a meat eater. On the other hand, June is more grain-and-vegetable, never even looking at steak or ribs. The only food we both like is gooey, stinky cheese. June loves to cook, which I am eternally grateful for as I do not. Ever. To make this even better for me, she does all the dishes. Am I spoiled? Some would say yes; many of her friends tell her how much she spoils me, but she tells them, "So what? We are happy, and that is all that matters."
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​June retired in April 2020 only to be robustly greeted with the ugly, hairy, scary arms of the Pandemic. It was also the month she met me. We met on a cocktail zoom through friends of friends. I was a complete wreck, having recently become "unhoused" for damn near a year. But that, my friends, is a different story. I firmly believe we "rescued" each other during that trying period. Although June likes all types, soulful eyes or not, she would never have even seen me if it weren’t for the Pandemic. Being cut off from her parties, people, and fun,  locking her up alone in solitary confinement, and worrying about touching her mail or washing her eggs, was not June’s style. Enter me. Sturdy. Good-looking, honey-colored, soulful eyes me. I was the comfort, the distraction she yearned for, and, if I say so myself, the fun she craved. June opened her heart and then her mind. Therefore, against her better judgment, doing a complete 180, she did an about face by letting me move into her place,  allowing us to get close quickly during a scary time.
 
Two years later, June says she is tired of the massive disruption the Pandemic has caused us all. Things are getting better, but she is very Covid-adverse and works hard not to get it. June insists we practice all the safety protocols: social distancing, vaccinating, masks,  testing, socializing outside, and handwashing. When she finally reached the end of her patience, she told me they called this "Covid Fatigue." She faced the truth about travel. June thought retirement meant traveling, something she did gladly but needed more time to do. She planned a trip to Japan for us. But the rules! Quarantined in a little hotel for fourteen days, carefully allowed to move about with many restrictions, constantly dodging the Covid curse. What fun would that be? 
 
I overheard June on the phone telling her friend, “I feel boxed in. Trapped. Like being in jail, only I have done nothing wrong. I am being punished for nothing, and my freedoms have disappeared.”
 
We were sitting on a friend's sailboat last summer, taking in the beauty of the sea and sky, and she said, "Hey, why don't we own one of these?” I saw that dreamy, determined look on her face that I know so well. Just like June, solving the Pandemic problem for us with one decision. By buying a sailboat, our plans would be smooth, and no one could tell us what we could or could not do on her boat. A portal. Yes, that is what she thought. Buying a sailboat only belonging to June and sharing it with me was creating a Covid-free portal away from the world's madness.
 
June made her decision. She would buy a sailboat. I thought it was a bit foolish. After all, she is of the age when most people think of spending money on trifocals or hearing aids. Although June has little money, she somehow makes it happen. To make this decision even odder, she is not mechanically inclined, nor are her sailing skills exemplary, nor are mine. I thought to myself, "Is this such a good idea?" For example, when her hot water heater recently broke, she could not turn it off, causing her to panic and resulting in much ineffective screaming. I was no help either. She had to call a neighbor to turn it off to stop the flooding. Again, as I was saying, I was worried about June and this sailing project of hers.
 
Against those challenges, she bought that sailboat. A 30-foot 1983 Catalina. An old boat that has retained her beauty to earn the moniker of a "classic," very similar to June herself. From my observation, June's motivations come from her enormous frustration about the never-ending Pandemic and her genuine love for sailing. 
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​When not on the boat, we spend an inordinate amount of time cuddling, touching, and feeling that love. The thing is, June and I share a tender love. I mean tender like a butterfly's smile, like the touch of a snail's antenna or the brush of the first blade of spring grass upon your feet. Tender love is as freeing as sailing when the wind and the water carry you beyond your body. It is as memorable as hot bacon sizzling in the frying pan someone makes for you while you are still asleep. Tender love allows you to access your soft underbelly risking big hurt while building trust. The tidal pool of love buried deep inside you rarely surfaces for fear of having it stolen. It is pure trust in each other. It is what June and I have. We know we will never hurt each other; we have each other's back no matter what and remain loyal.
 
I may be wrong, but I know June, as she trusts me enough to confide in me freely. Then again, what do I know? After all, I am only a dog. Her dog. And as I told you, we love each other so very much.
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​​Dr. Vera Jacobson was a teacher and administrator for 30 years. She is happily writing short stories, watercoloring, and doing pencil sketching. If she is not at home, you would probably find her sailing on the San Francisco Bay. She lives in Brisbane with her dog, Peter.
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Vistas & Byways Review is the semiannual journal of fiction, nonfiction and poetry by members of Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at San Francisco State University​.​
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