River Conversations

Written by Gene Cashman III

want to go to the sandbar,” the young bride chirped as she lazily swung her feet back and forth to keep the hammock moving, “is the tide coming in or going out?” The day was oppressively hot as Caroline lounged in the shade of a covered deck while her husband lay out on the floating dock below. Without even looking up from his book, Robert affirmed that the tide was indeed going out. Bemused by the laissez-faire manner in which he responded, she pressed for clarification. “Going out? How can you tell?” Still not looking up from his book Robert’s reply was “the bubbles.” Laughingly she teased him, “bubbles, what bubbles?” The book finally hit his bare chest. Removing his sunglasses he propped himself up on his elbow and sarcastically pointed to the water, “those bubbles, dear, the ones floating in the river.” Not appreciating his tone she poked out her lip and shrunk back in the hammock. Realizing that he had perhaps been a bit too sharp in his explanation and not wanting to ice the afternoon of any potential romance, he expounded. “They are running out to sea with the tide. When the bubbles are headed towards Palmetto Bluff it means, for us, that the tide is going out.” Feeling that he had recovered the mood and sufficiently answered the question he donned his shades and went back to reading.

Thirty seconds later a response came from the depths of the hammock. “Oh, so if they’re going the other way that means the tide is coming in?” Turning the page of the book his answer was an abrupt “yes.” Caroline was now on the prowl for low country knowledge. She sprung from the hammock and descended the ramp to where Robert lay. “Then why is that cup down there not floating with the bubbles, it’s going the opposite direction of the bubbles.” Again, Robert sat up and removed his glasses. “The wind is blowing it against the tide.” With the sharp wit of a lead prosecutor Caroline shot back “oh, are you sure?” Feeling the patience run from his veins, he managed a curt “yes baby, I am sure.” Caroline smiled at him, River Conversations “but isn’t that confusing. I mean, how do you know where the sea is and which way the water is coming or going? It’s not like you are a captain or something.” Just as Robert opened his mouth to respond Caroline excitedly blurted out, “oh look, there’s a porpoise!” Sure enough about one hundred yards out the tell tale fin broke the water and quickly disappeared. In a calm voice he confidentially stated “there aren’t any porpoise around here, it’s a dolphin.” Caroline’s grin turned into a full on smile, she slowly crossed her arms and cocked her hip out like a gunslinger and teased, “is that what you learned in your two marine biology classes?”

Feeling as if all civility were being lost, Robert slowly counted to ten. Sensing the same, Caroline retreated “well, whatever you call it there’s another one.” Robert, not wanting to egg on a petty quarrel, played along “okay, Caroline, where?” She squinted into the sun and pointed in the general direction she last saw the fin, “over there.” Robert looked but saw nothing. “Was it around eleven o’clock?” he asked. Caroline looked at him as if he had spoken in Greek. “Eleven o’clock, what in the world do you mean?” Just then Robert saw the dolphin. Excitedly he jumped up nearly knocking Caroline off the dock, “see, there it was again, right there at eleven-thirty.” Gaining her balance, Caroline tried her best to see. “I am so confused. What are you talking about, the nightly news?” Robert quickly lay on his belly and pointed out to the marsh. “No, no, see that clump of marsh out there; think of that as high noon on a sun dial. Go backwards a bit and consider that eleven o’clock.” Emulating Robert she too got down on her stomach and searched for the clump of grass. “honey, I love you but that makes no sense.” Intent on making the point he pressed on, “yes it does, it’s a means of giving quick direction.” No longer seeing the dolphin and definitely not interested in a navigational lesson Caroline informed Robert that she was returning to her book.

Just as things on the dock quieted down, with both Caroline and Robert back at their books lazily refraining from making any points about dolphins, the tide, or rudimentary navigation, a boat approached. It was Robert’s father Don. Robert’s parents had taken the boat to Hilton Head for lunch and were returning home. A predictable conversation echoed out over the water. “Lynn, we are coming in against the tide, I need you to get the bow line, okay?” This was always a potential recipe for disaster; Don and Lynn docking the boat. Even though they had done this, unsuccessfully, a thousand times, they pressed on. “Get ready, hurry, get the line around the cleat,” his voiced elevated to a higher pitch “around the cleat!” Lynn shot him an eat it and die look, “don’t have that tone with me,” she fired back. Unfazed Don shouted, “Go, go, cleat it, cleat it, we are drifting.” Lynn had enough, “okay commodore why don’t you step from behind the wheel and come help.” From the safety of the dock Robert noted the vein in his father’s forehead bulging.“I am helping,” he gritted “why you don’t listen, I will never know.” This was a very unwise statement. With that Lynn stepped off the boat, “fine, Captain Ahab, you’re on your own.”

Lynn huffed up the ramp and plopped down next to Caroline in the hammock. Robert helped Don tie up the boat. Lynn was still fuming, “those men are two peas in a pod. They have no patience. I birthed one and have been married to the other for thirty years but I swear sometimes I could choke them both.” Caroline nodded in agreement, “they sure need to relax.” Robert ascended the ramp and shot Caroline an acknowledging “I am sorry I was a jerk look.” She winked back indicating that she was glad he understood what not to do. Don stomped up the ramp, sweaty and frustrated. He grabbed a Diet Coke from the cooler and downed it in two gulps. No one spoke. Just as the tension seemed unbearable Don leaned against a weathered piece of dock railing. As soon as his weight touched the frame the whole panel gave way sending Don straight into the water. For a moment there was a stunned silence. Then the splashing of Don in the water broke the spell. A cascading wall of uncontrolled laughter bellowed from beneath the dock. “I deserve it, I deserve it” Don wheezed between snorts.
The family gathered at the empty hole in the dock railing, peering down at Don, who was waist deep in shallow water. “Lynn baby,” he shouted up “I’m sorry I was a mule, can you toss me a rope.” The lines in Lynn’s face softened at the sight on Don in such a pathetic situation, “only if you promise to never speak to me that way again.” Don brushed the salt from his eyes, “okay, okay, just send down a rope.”

That night at the dinner table the conversation was light and on the surface. Just when it seemed like the events of the afternoon would go unspoken, a knife clanked against a weathered wine glass. Don stood up and took a deep breath. “Sports fans,” he bellowed in the style of the Great Santini, “I have an announcement to make.” Six eyes fixated on Don’s sunburned and sweaty face. “Today you were all privy to a poor display of character,” he paused and fumbled with the glass in his hand, “I behaved like a mule’s behind and I am sorry.”

The look on Lynn’s face indicated this was completely unprompted and genuine. Caroline stepped in to save him from any further explanation by telling him she thought he would make a great mud diver. Everyone laughed. When the tabled cleared Robert and Caroline lingered. After a fewminutes of silence Robert spoke, “I am sorry I was short with you today. Tomorrow I will teach you about the water and how to understand its nuances.” Caroline smiled, “That would be nice.” With that the two walked down to the water’s edge and put their feet in the warm current, each lost in thought, mulling over the lesson’s learned from another day spent living on the water.