It was her trip; I just went along for the ride – not a long
ride, just down to the Statue of Liberty and back, yet long enough to see how
she must have looked during those long cruises when she was with the band.
She looked utterly professional, carrying pad and camera,
wearing a pants suit, her steady gaze surveying the landscape inside and top
side as well as that which we passed on either side of the Hudson.
This was the maiden voyage of a refurbished party boat,
destined to take on business and pleasure events in the future, but accommodating
big wigs and small fry to show off what this boat had and could do, equipped with
bar and kitchen, dance space, lounge area, tables and chairs, thought the food and
drink offered on this trip would not be the typical fair people might expect
when renting it for their cruise.
She moved from table to table, person to person, interviewing
anyone who would sit still along enough for her to question and snap their pictures,
not just the heavy weight politicians who she dealt with day in and day out,
but some of the ordinary folks who seemed delighted by her attention, as well
as the people who made the whole thing possible, people like those she might
have seen long ago and far away when she stood on the band stand instead of the
light weight musician performing on this short jaunt.
I would have loved to have heard her sing; I knew she wouldn’t,
even though she had once done so at the local performing arts center. She had a
different hat today than then, or even the one she’d worn on those longer cruises
and did not need to lose herself by changing boats (so to speak) midstream, she
needed to focus, needed to know which hat she needed to sear to get this chore
done.
Below deck, she moved like a panther, from room to room,
table to table, from the blue lighted area near the diners to the purple haze
near where the band played, a slim, powerful cat on the prowl, and a magnet for
the gazes of the men she passed, who did not know here, but would have liked to
, had this been a typical trip on which they could have offered to buy her a
drink.
All the drinks on this trip were free, handed out by cool
waiters and waitresses, all smiling all of the time. But she did not partake,
promising to go with me on shore later where we could both indulge.
Above deck, along the viewing promenade, she seemed less
mysterious, yet no less powerful, taking in the slanted beams of sunlight like
an at-peace lioness, calmed by the slight breeze of a chill wind, stands of her
hair flowing across her forehead. I could not see her eyes for the sunglasses.
She snapped my picture as if I deserved it, giving me a promising smile, not a
wink, but almost as good, suggesting that this was a special moment I would
later remember fondly, the motion of the boat so gentle for most of the time,
we might not have been moving except for the changing scenery on either side
and the approach of the statue where we were destined to turn around, the
halfway mark, for the trip, and perhaps for our journey together.
Later, in the restaurant, we indulged, she eating oysters;
we both drank wine, we laughing as if this might be the last time we would
every laugh together, our anchors down, our lives secure if only for this
moment in time, we both knowing this was all we could be sure of ever having,
and both of us grateful for having it.
No comments:
Post a Comment