It Looked Different on the Model - Laurie Notaro [60]
We headed back out to the coast, where we had rented a cottage near the beach. When we’d unpacked, my sister suggested we take a stroll on the boardwalk that we had just driven past and mentioned something about seeing pedal boats. Frankly, I can’t say that I was fan of pedal boats, but if that’s what family vacations were made out of, I could use some schooling, unless there was a Nazi Youth rally or a cross-burning happening nearby that I could throw us into the middle of.
My husband and I were first and got into a tiny two-seater; we got a brief lesson on how to direct the rudder and were off for a twenty-five-dollar-an-hour pedal-boat ride. My sister and her family were slotted for the four-seater boat.
“Have fun,” my brother-in-law said, waving us off with a smile that was suspiciously too wide as the pedal-boat guy pushed our boat away from the dock. “Remember that I predicted this would be all my fault.”
Puzzled, we started paddling. It was a beautiful day, so we just sat back and made it to the far end of the inlet in about a half hour, then made our way back. My sister’s boat was nowhere in sight, but I assumed they had headed off in the opposite direction and were doing their own thing. I was pretty sure by the time we all got back to the dock, Nick would have told his parents what an awful time he had with us, how we ruined everything that could have been fun.
But as we got closer, it was clear to see that my sister’s boat was only about thirty feet away from the dock. Well, I figured, if you have four people pedaling, you can make way better time than two slowpokes can. My sister’s family was singing, and she was standing up and waving something, as if she was leading them in song.
Which I knew was absolutely implausible, given the fact that, on a good day, anyone with our DNA would rather eat one of their own than break into song. Additionally, I understand the call of my own pack, and it was clear that those hyenic yapping noises had a different sort of origin and a far more nefarious translation.
As we approached, it became apparent they were pedaling in circles, over and over again, a result of the rudder getting stuck in one unfortunate position next to my unknowing brother-in-law’s leg. My sister, still standing, was shrieking to her husband, who did not look amused, “Pedal harder, Taylor! You are not pedaling hard enough to go anywhere! Goddamnit! Pedal HARDER! Get us back to the dock!” In her hand was a large piece of blue plastic, which, when she had gotten into the boat, was the back of her seat—until it snapped off in one solid piece as soon as they’d floated thirty feet away. In the rear of the boat, David’s whole head was a brilliant red as tears streamed down his face as he repeatedly screamed and sobbed, “We’re sinking! We’re sinking! There are sharks in the water! We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die!”
And then there was Nick, who, as my sister’s family continued to pedal into another revolution, simply looked at my husband and me pedaling quietly by and mouthed one word to us: “Help.”
He just might be back again next year.
Please Don’t Call China
Dear Whoever Has My iPhone:
I’m sure you thought it was weird, finding an iPhone lying in the middle of the street last night, nestled in its tiny black leather case, just sitting there on the asphalt. I would have thought it was weird, too, maybe even funny. How often do you see something like that? It’s almost as common as finding a baby on the street, except an iPhone is a lot more fun to play with.
That’s what I would have thought, too, but when I woke up this morning and realized that my iPhone wasn’t in my purse, car, or coat jacket, I knew something was seriously, seriously wrong. I jumped into my car and raced back to where we parked last night, and I scoured the street. It