Page 72 of Haze of Obedience
"Yeah. Quite a bit."
"How do you feel about boats?"
"I'm down with any form of transportation."
"You might regret saying that."
"Why?"
"What about kayaks?"
"I'm an excellent kayaker."
She playfully squeezes my biceps. "These might get a little tired."
"Doubt it." I pick up her hand and flip it. I trace the pads of her palm. "These might get a little calloused."
"I'll live."
"Tell me where we get the kayak, and I'm ready to show you my skills."
She points to Punta Gorda. "One of our flights had a mechanical failure. We were flying from Venezuela to Belize City. We had an emergency landing. There were several hours to kill, so I explored the town. There's a kayak shop right around here. You can put it in the water right there too. We could go right over to the peninsula.”
“We would need to stay near shore. That area right there would be too rough for a kayak.”
“But it would save us a lot of time.”
“Not if we’re dead.”
“Point taken.”
I squeeze her hand. "But I love to kayak. And I'm so pumped I could kiss you right now."
She freezes, and we lock eyes.
I clear my throat. "Sorry. Figuratively speaking."
She nods, and her face falls. "Sure. Ummm...should we get going then?"
"Yeah." I focus my attention back on the road and curse myself for saying that.
Several minutes pass.
"Ready for the next question?" she quietly asks.
Relieved, I smile at her. "Bring it."
"What song do I shamelessly love?"
"La Bamba."
"Nice. What about you?"
"La Cucaracha."
She laughs. "No, it's not."
"It is."
