I know Dex had asked if I was worried about being alone with him, and at first I really wasn’t,

but the more I examined the weekend, the more I started to

fret. Not about him in any way. I mean, I’d love nothing more than for him to make a few moves on me. But I knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime
soon. Or anytime. Ever. Sigh. No, I was worried about myself. I was going to be sharing a tent with him for two nights. Sure, we had our own sleeping bags
and everything (thank goodness), but the isolation plus our proximity, with no prying eyes to see…it made me nervous. What if I did something stupid,
like jump his bones in the middle of the night? I’d be mortified and I’d scare him off. Probably ruin everything we had. And yeah, I know it seems pretty
unlikely that insecure little Perry would do anything like that but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to do terrible x–rated, nasty things to him.
Only a few moments ago he had leaned over to take something out of the glovebox and during the instant where he turned to look up at me, I was so afraid I
was actually going to lean forward and kiss him. I just thought, what happens if I just kiss him right here? What if I just grab his hair with my hands and
pull him towards me and just kiss those irresistible lips of his? It was getting pretty ridiculous. I have never wanted someone so badly before, mentally and
physically, that I was afraid my body might act without any instructions from me. Finally, vague thoughts of Creepy Clown Lady kept drifting into my
headspace. She acted like she knew me in some way. But I still wasn’t sure if I had seen a figment of my imagination or a ghost. Or an actual cracked–out
clown lady who just followed me around from place to place like a lost carnie. Er, speaking telepathically in my head and all of that. I’ve heard carnies can
do that. I kind of wanted to bring it up with Dex just to see what he thought, to see if he had seen her too, lately, and was keeping it from me as I had been
from him, and I was seconds (well, minutes, maybe days) away from doing so when we pulled up to a modest blue, one-level house in a leafy suburban
neighborhood of Victoria. He parked the car on the street and flipped it into park. “This is Zach’s,” he said. I gave him an expectant look. “And how do you
know this Zach?” “He’s a ocumentary filmmaker, did some projects with him over the years. He’s a nice guy, no appetite for bullshit, which I appreciate. Has
a kid, Amanda, who is six, I think, or something like that. Anyway old enough to talk intelligently with you, young enough to not have a fucking
attitude. Buddy just got divorced though, so…try not to bring that up
Noted. We got out of the car and walked to the house. For a single guy, his garden was very neat and tidy, even with the approach of winter. Christmas
lights were already on the hedges and lining the roof. The grass was cut short and rimmed with dew. A little girl answered the door. She was pretty with
long blonde hair that was in the chokehold of a rat’s nest. The dress she wore was ruffley and light pink but overwhelmed by a Picasso-like mess of dirty
smears. Either this was a tomboy in a princess’s body or dad wasn’t used to having a young girl around. “I’m Amanda,” she stated forcefully as she
blocked the entrance with her tiny body. “You remember me, Amanda,” Dex said, leaning over to get a better look at her, hands on his knees. I felt a rare
pang under my ribcage. “It’s Dex.” “You smell,” she said. I couldn’t help but Laugh. Amanda shot me a Look. “Sorry, Amanda. I agree with you,” I said in m
y most child-Like voice. I never knew how to act around children, regardless of their age. Luckily Amanda grinned at that, showing off a wide gap in her
teeth. She then skipped away, leaving the door open. Success!
A bearded man came around the corner, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His eyes lit up when he saw Dex. “How are you, my man?” he exclaimed. Dex went
up and embraced him heartily. It was charming to see from someone who didn’t seem too affectionate with anyone. “Good, good. I like the beard, Zach,” Dex
noted as he pulled away and gave him the once-over. “You look like the singer of Clutch.” It was true. He did look like Neil Fallon of the band Clutch. Zach
had a receding hairline coupled with a bushy mountain-man beard. He had a proud beer belly poking forward through his navy tee-shirt, though he seemed
in otherwise good shape. “And I like the moustache. You look like a rapist,” Zach shot back with a wink. Dex looked at me. “I guess you aren’t the only one
who thinks so.” I smiled at Zach and extended my hand, “Hi, I’m Dex’s partner, Perry. I also think he looks like a rapist.” He shook it firmly and said, “Nice
to meet you, Perry. I can tell I like you already. Come on in. Don’t mind Amanda. She’s here for the weekend. School had a professional day or something.”
“I’m in Grade One,” she said suddenly, poking her head out from the kitchen in front of us and then quickly disappearing again. Dex and I laughed
nervously. I mean, what do you say to that? Good for you? That’s nice? Zach looked back at us, saying, “I know, who the fuck cares.” “Dad!” she yelled
from around the corner. He rolled his eyes. “Right. Sorry, Amanda
He leaned towards us, voice lowered, “She’s the swear police now. Her mother…well, anyway, come in, come in.” Zach led us into the living room, where he
served us coffee and Twinkies. His house was small but had a homey feel, wood-paneled walls and lots of thick moody-colored rugs thrown about on a dark
hardwood floor. “Sorry, I’m not very good at hosting people,” he said, shoving a Twinkie in his mouth. I eyed the spongy creation in my hands. I already
had breakfast on the ferry but decided to nibble at it just to be polite. At least the coffee was strong and good. Seemed like the type of coffee a sailor would
make. “So, D’Arcy Island, eh?” Zach mused with a hard gleam in his eyes. “Yup. Nothing says a fun time like an old leper colony,” Dex said. “And the park
board is letting you do this?” “Yeah. They’re letting us. Not stopping us at any rate. Though that Bill dude definitely had a tent pole up his ass.” “I’m pretty
sure they’ve been approached by TV shows before…all that ghosthunting crap. Sorry. I just don’t believe in it.” “You don’t believe in ghosts?” I asked. Even
though it seemed like most people didn’t, it was still fascinating to me to find out why. “Oh, no, I believe in ghosts. Very much so. But I think those TV
shows are crap. That’s probably why they said yes to you guys. What I think anyway.” “You’ll get your sea legs soon enough,Dex said, climbing up from
inside and standing beside me. He had a book of nautical charts with him. He poked around the area beside the wheel, lifting up a few panels. “Thank fuck
Zach was smart enough to put in sonar and GPS.” I stepped over to him and peered down at the instrument panel beside the wheel, which had a moldy, damp
cover on it. “Would we have been screwed otherwise?” Dex laughed. “I’ll say.” Well that was encouraging to hear. What did he think would happen if he
hadn’t? Would he have just winged it with someone’s boat? Probably. “Do you want me to do anything?” I asked, hoping he’d say no. I just wanted to sit in
the corner of the bench and hide. He pulled out a key and a cigarette from his pants pocket. He lit the cigarette, took a large puff and stuck the key in the
slot, giving it a hard turn. The boat roared to life, a sound much louder than I had expected, and we were vibrating from the motion. “Dex?” I asked.
“Right,” he said, and pointed up at the deck. “I’ll need you to take in the bumpers once we get moving. And I might need you to help me cast off.” He looked
around him at the surrounding boats. “I don’t want to bug anyone here for a sendoff.” That might be better though, I thought. He rubbed his chin. “Don’t
worry, I’m not going to ask you to jump aboard while the ship is moving. Last thing I want is for you to take a dip.” “Good.” “I’ll just get you to steer.”
“Uh…” “You ride a motorbike, Perry. You can steer this boat in a straight line for a few seconds. I believe in you.” He smacked me hard on the back. I had my
doubts about handling the long ocean beast, but it wasn’t that hard. The way the marina was laid out and the position of the boat among the berths meant
all I really had to do was shove the gearshift forward, keep the pace and hold the boat straight. The calm seas made this easy to do and soon Dex had thrown
all the lines on deck and had leaped on board the slowly moving ship with ease. He sure was sprightly for someone who wasn’t that tall. The casual,
streamlined manner of which he did it in was a surprise too. I guess I was doing a good enough job that he walked to the bow and back, taking up all the
bumpers as he went. “Thanks, skipper, I’ll take it from here,” he said after he finished, flashing me an appreciative smile and squeezing in beside me. He put
his hands on top of mine, which were on top of the wheel. I stared up at him stupidly, torn between wanting to move my hands and get out of the way or just
keep them there. He eyed my hands underneath his and gave them a quick squeeze. “Unless you want to steer? I don’t want to cause a mutiny on oard.” I
quickly took them out from under his. “No, you’re the captain here. Where did you learn to sail anyway?” He turned forward, eyes searching the horizon of
islands. “I went to sailing school when I was young.”
“In New York?” “Yes. New York has a long island.” “Ha, I know that. How old were you?” He glanced at me quickly and frowned. “You really like to know
everything, don’t you?” “Yeah. I do,” I said crossing my arms. I didn’t get why he was such a stickler with details about his life, especially his life in New
York. What’s the harm in talking about where he learned to sail or where he learned to play hockey? The breeze was starting to pick up as we motored to the
edge of the small harbor. It ruffled his hair around his eyes so I could only catch glimpses of them. “I was 11. My father was a sailor and I was on the boat a
lot as a child. He thought I should learn how to do it properly, in case I ever inherited the boat one day. So he put me in sailing classes at the yacht club. I
did them once a week…for about a year. Mainly little skip boats but sometimez we would do races and gay shit like that.” He was telling me so much, I
almost felt like I should be writing it down. “Why did you stop? Was it becauze you were playing hockey?”