After breakfast the Narcisse upped anchor and we motored north at a pretty good clip. The Captain had told us that we’d be in Glacier Bay that afternoon, seeing icebergs. The inevitable Titanic jokes ensued, but pretty much every passenger onboard was looking forward to it. As the ship made way through the relatively open waters towards Glacier Bay, it struck me that there was really nothing much to do. Emmy, Angela and I found seats in the dining area which were great for watching Alaska glide past, since the crew had rolled up the canvas sides to open up the view. Just sitting there eventually became boring and a bit uncomfortable, so after lunch we made our way to the salon with most of the rest of the passengers.
Hank was in there, sitting with a woman I presumed was his wife Jo. When she looked over at us as we settled down on a comfy couch I caught her eye and gave her a knowing wink. She laughed and turned and whispered something to Hank, who gave me a thumbs-up. It seemed that both of them were O.K. with the idea of us being in a poly marriage, and took the lack of sleep the night before with good humor.
At dinner that night the ship’s naturalist talked about the glaciers we’d seen spilling down into the waters of the bay, and how they calve icebergs.
“Not the gigantic bergs that could sink the Titanic,” she said. “Just little ones. Only very rarely do you see any even as big as the Narcisse.”
Somebody asked about whether that was above the waterline or below, and she went on to explain that most bergs in the area were laying horizontally at the surface, so what you see is mostly what you get. “They really aren’t like what you see in the popular media,” she explained.
This got everybody talking about what we’d seen, and broke the metaphoric ice. We all found ourselves talking with whoever happened to be seated near us, as if we were all old friends.
For dinner, the steward announced an unusual treat. Salmonberry sherbet, made with ice from the glaciers.
“This ice,” he said, holding up a block of clear blue ice about the size of a cantaloupe, “Is hundreds of years old. It fell on the mountains in the Fairweather Range, then tumbled or slid into the valley, getting compacted with time until it broke off into the sea. We fished it out, let it melt a bit to expose the pure, fresh ice, then made our sherbet with it. After dinner, we’ll be breaking it up into cubes for your cocktails!”
Of course, I had to have a nice Old Fashioned with a big, clear chunk of ice from an ancient glacier, right? When I got to talking to the naturalist (whose name I simply couldn’t remember for the life of me), she said that it was a great story, but mostly bullshit.
“Eh,” she said dismissively. “Margerie Glacier is small and fast-moving. If the snowball that got compacted into that chunk of ice fell at the farthest point possible, it’d still be maybe fifty years at the most.”
Sipping my drink, I looked down at the rough chunk of ice. “Makes a great story, though.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” she agreed.
The next morning I woke up early again and soon found a cup of coffee in my hands. I joined Jack at the rail, looking back up the length of the long inlet.
“Early riser?” He asked.
“I’m used to being at the gym by five thirty,” I confirmed. “Honestly, ten days without a workout… It’s gonna be tough.”
“Yeah, no gym onboard,” he agreed. “Hell of a lap pool, though.”
“Is it heated?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Not as such, no,” Jack said.
“That might be O.K. for orcas and seals,” I said, gesturing out at the water with my cup, “But I suspect I’d find it a bit too…”
“Bracing?”
“Yeah, that’d be a good word for it,” I agreed.
“When I was in the army, a hundred years ago or so, I got assigned to the Tenth Mountain Division. We did a lot of cold weather training- I was deployed to northern Norway for six months, and we all did a lot of cold-water work. It turns out that the human body can withstand near-freezing water for quite a while as long as you stay very active. A strong swimmer could easily be fine for half an hour or more in ice water. The big problem is the shock your body goes through when you first jump in,” Jack said. “If you get past that, just swim to keep your core temperature up.”
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m a pretty strong swimmer, but no thanks.”
“Yeah, not me, anymore, either,” Jack said with a chuckle. “Those days are long gone.”
After dinner that evening Jack and Emmy set up in the dining area, trying to figure out lighting and microphone placement and the like. Jack was used to filming interviews, but he’d never filmed a musical performance before, so it was uncharted territory for him. The two didn’t actually film anything with any sort of idea it was going to be saved- it was just about screen testing the equipment and making sure it would all work.
The crew of the Narcisse was very into the idea and did what they could to make the filming successful, including re-orienting the way the ship was anchored to take advantage of the twilight on the evergreen-covered slopes in the background.
Emmy played a couple of tunes on her guitar while Jack positioned and repositioned his camera (a high-end DSLR) and microphone boom.
A few of the other passengers hung around to watch, but it was pretty boring, so most drifted back into the salon. I stayed out to watch, enjoying another glacier-iced Old Fashioned while Emmy and Jack did their thing.
While that was going on, Jack’s wife and I chatted quietly, far enough away that we couldn’t be picked up by Jack’s microphone.
“Jack was really excited to be able to do this,” Eve commented. “He’s jazzed to try out something new, you know?”
“Emmy seems pretty pleased by the idea, too, so it works out for everybody,” I replied. We both quieted down as Emmy started to sing a song while Jack moved his tripod around until he was satisfied.
I’d never heard the song Emmy sang- something about dreaming of her father’s house, shining bright through the woods. It ended with Emmy singing, “I’m sorry hon, but nobody by that name lives here anymore.”
The regret and sorrow she poured into the song caused everyone out there in the dining area to stop what they were doing and just listen quietly. The two guys from the crew that had been helping move things around had taken seats, one of them wiping away tears when Emmy finished. I glanced over at Eve, who was also blinking her watery eyes.
“I don’t know what it is,” I said in a low voice to Eve, “But Em’s been in a sort of down mood the last couple of days.”
“And now, so am I,” Eve joked, wiping her nose.
When Jack was satisfied that he had the settings and levels and whatever figured out, he and Emmy broke for the night. While the two guys from the crew moved the tables back where they belonged and lowered the canvas sides, Emmy packed up her guitar and Jack stowed his gear.
“Let’s get an early jump on it tomorrow,” Jack suggested. “Right after dinner.”
“That would work,” Emmy agreed, her smile bright.
Emmy and I found Angela in the salon, helping the twins with their half-done jigsaw puzzle.
“How did it go?” Angela asked.
“I think it went well,” Emmy said. “We are going to try recording right after dinner tomorrow.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“That’s great,” Angela said with a warm smile. “Have you thought about what you’ll play?”
“I think so, yes,” Emmy said. “We want to limit it to five songs, so that will be an easy playlist.”
I made myself comfortable in the big armchair that Angela and I had occupied the first night, while Emmy took her guitar back to our cabin.
The parents of the twins were seated near me, and the boys’ mother leaned over to talk.
“Angela, that’s her name, right?” she asked tilting her head towards the puzzle solvers.
“Yeah, and I’m Leah,” I confirmed.
“You’re in a same-sex marriage with Emmy, right?” she asked. When I nodded, she asked, “So what’s the deal with Angela? You and her seemed awfully… close last night.”
“We’re in a poly marriage,” I said. “We’re all three of us married to each other.”
“Oh, Lord,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you people just be happy now that you can get married like normal folks?”
I could see her husband gently tugging on her arm to get her to shut up, but she was ignoring him.
“Do you love your husband?” I asked.
“What?” she asked, surprised by the non sequitur.
“Do you love your husband? It’s a pretty simple question,” I repeated.
“Of course I do,” she replied, indignant.
“How would you have felt if some arbitrary law said that you couldn’t marry him? It didn’t matter how much you loved each other, or how great you’d be as parents, or any of that. Just that somebody else decided for you that you couldn’t get married. Would you still love him?”
Puzzled by where I was going with this, she said, “Well, sure I would,” in an uncertain tone.
“Would you fight to be allowed to get married, just like everybody else could be?”
Finally understanding what I was getting at, she said, “But the Bible says that homosexuality is a sin.”
“I see. Well, how would you feel if a bunch of laws got passed saying that you had to cover your hair, because the Prophet Mohammad said it was required?” I asked.
“There’s no way,” she snorted.
“No way you’d do it? Cover your hair?”
“I’m not going to do something required by Sharia Law,” she replied.
“Not even if these laws were passed here in the US?” I pressed.
“Look, that’s an Islamic thing, alright? Those rules don’t apply to us Christians.”
“So what would you say if I told you that Angela, Emmy and I were all, say, Buddhists? Does that mean that your Christian laws don’t apply to us?” I asked. “Your Christian belief against same-sex marriage, or poly marriages mean nothing to us, since we aren’t Christians?”
She opened her mouth to object, but her husband’s firm hand on her shoulder finally registered. She turned to look at him, and ask him what he wanted, but he spoke first.
“Anne, let it go. Just- drop it, O.K.?” he said.
Anne was going to argue, but apparently the pleading look in his eyes did the trick.
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree,” she said to me, crossing her arms.
I shrugged and said, “Fair enough.”
I turned back to watch Angela with the two boys, who were all completely oblivious of the discussion across the room. She was so good with kids it was easy to imagine her being an amazing mother. Watching her talk to the two boys, explaining something so they’d understand, made me love her that little bit more. I found myself drifting into the familiar daydream of Mama Angela holding our little girls, reading bedtime stories to them, kissing them goodbye when they got on the school bus… I may have been a bit dismissive of Emmy and Angela’s burning desire to have babies, but I will admit that the more it seemed as if it was going to actually happen, the more I realized I wanted it, too.
“What are you thinking about?” Emmy asked as she dropped onto my lap.
“I was thinking about how great a mom Angela is going to be,” I said, pulling Emmy down into a cuddle.
“Yes,” Emmy agreed, nestling in my arms. “Ours will be the luckiest children in the world.”
The following morning I woke up early, as usual. Once out of the cabin for my coffee I saw the morning was mostly clear and dry. Slipping back inside, I changed into my workout gear and grabbed my bands. Wishing I’d brought a yoga mat, I found a good, level and clear spot on the skiff deck to get my blood pumping. I warmed up quickly and despite the cool air was soon down to my sports bra and bike shorts as I worked up a sweat.
In the middle of an extended set of chaos pushups I realized that somebody was watching. Finishing my set, I dropped my knees to the deck and raised myself into a kneeling position. I looked up, seeing it was the twins’ dad.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he began. “I just wanted to apologize for last night. Anne had no right to talk to you that way. I’m really sorry for that.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize for her,” I said, wiping my face with a little hand towel I’d taken from our cabin.
“She had no call to butt into your, um, your personal life like that,” he said awkwardly.
“No, she didn’t, but that’s not what I meant. She did it, not you. You shouldn’t apologize for something you didn’t do.”
Sitting down heavily on one of the wooden folding chairs, he said, “Yeah, I know, but she wasn’t going to do it, you know?”
“She seems to have deeply-held beliefs,” I said, taking a drink of water from my Nalgene jug.
“That’s one way of putting it. A nicer way than most people would.”
I shrugged and said, “As far as I’m concerned, she can feel however she wants on the subject. I’m not here to try to change her mind. All I ask is that she stays polite and respectful, and we’ll do the same. Live and let live, right?”
“I think that’s where she’s at, too,” he said. “I pointed out that the three of you seem like really nice people, and Angela was great with Jack and Blake…”
“Then that’s fine. I don’t need her to apologize for her beliefs, as long as she keeps them to herself.”
“She will,” he assured me. After a few long, awkward moments, he said, “Um, those pushups you were doing? On the band things? That looked really hard core.”
“They are pretty tough,” I agreed.
“So, you work out a lot?”
“Yes,” I said, just wishing the guy would go away so I could get back to my workout.
“It shows,” he said. “I don’t just mean, um… I mean, I could tell even when you had clothes on. Wait- I’m making a mess of this. Let me take a step back.” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he said, “What I meant to say is that even before I found you here, working out, I could tell you were really athletic. I first saw it when you walked down the pier, carrying two big duffel bags, with a third like a backpack, and looked like it was nothing. You move - when you walk, you’re always so light on your feet, even though you’re bigger than me…” he said, still sort of babbling.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, unlooping my resistance bands from the stanchions and setting them aside. I was hoping that he’d get the hint, but he just stood there, so I started in on my chin-ups without waiting for him to leave. The little crane thing to lower the skiff wasn’t perfect for chin-ups, since it was a bit too low, making me have to curl my legs back. The pipe’s diameter was a little big for my hands, too, but it was what was available, so I just made do.
The guy watched me for about ten reps, then said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your workout,” and finally left me in peace.
Angela found me after a while, saying that it was almost breakfast time, and I should take a shower and eat with Emmy and her.
Walking back down to our cabin, a few of the other passengers gave me puzzled looks- presumably because I was hardly wearing anything and covered in a layer of sweat, even though it was a cool morning.
“Haven’t they ever seen anybody after their workout before?” I grumbled, kicking off my shoes in the cabin.
“Nobody that looks like you,” Angela answered, swatting my butt. “Ow!” She complained, holding her hand as if she’d just bruised it.
Laughing, I spun around and scooped her up, giving her a big kiss.
“You’re sweaty! You need a shower!” She said, pushing me away.
“Are you two flirting again?” Emmy asked as she entered from the adjoining cabin.
“Yes,” Angela replied sweetly, puckering up for a kiss from Emmy, who obliged.
“Have I ever told you guys that seeing you kiss is one of the hottest things ever?” I asked.
“Seeing you naked and sweaty is one of the hottest things ever,” Emmy replied, eyeing me up and down.
“Mmm hmm,” Angela agreed, nodding.
Enjoying the attention, I flexed a few times, getting catcalls of “Oh, baby!” And, “Ooh la la!” from the two.
At breakfast, the captain called for a show of hands on who wanted to stop in Juneau, and for how long. He pointed out that every hour spent in Juneau was one less hour in some remote, scenic spot, and really, we’d probably all seen plenty of towns before, right?
With an argument like that, we unanimously agreed that we could bypass the capital of Alaska entirely and spend the extra time cruising, or hiking, kayaking… whatever.
After the decision was made he said, “We’ll moor early this afternoon at a cove that usually has a lot of animal life- eagles, sea otters- I’ve even seen foxes on the shoreline before,” the captain said. “We’ll break out the kayaks for those who want to paddle in some very calm waters. There are two streams with great fishing, too, for those that are interested in that. It’s peak silver salmon season right now, and we have plenty of gear if you left yours at home.”
After breakfast, the three of us went up to the pilot house to watch the forested hillsides glide by. I can’t say it was exciting, but it wasn’t boring, either. Scenic for sure, if sedate.
“If we get a yacht, I want to come back up here some day,” Angela said as we watched a pod of orcas as they surfaced, then disappeared, then surfaced again a bit farther off.
“Do you want us to buy a yacht?” Emmy asked.
“I don’t know,” Angela sighed. “It’s a dream, you know? But I don’t know when or how often we would use it, really, and they’re very expensive. Not just to buy, but upkeep,” she said.
“What would your dream yacht be?” Emmy asked, mostly just to keep the conversation moving.
“Not too big,” Angela said. “But big enough. It would have an Olympic-sized pool, and of course a helicopter landing pad,” she said, giving Emmy a saucy smile.
“Not too big at all,” Emmy laughed.
“You know what’s funny?” Angela asked. “At first, I thought this cruise ship was too small and old, and didn’t like it. But after spending a few days on it, and thinking about what the captain said about John Wayne’s yacht being the same as this… I think if this was our yacht, it would be very nice, but we would have to make our cabin much bigger.”
“I think a classic ship like this would be wonderful for our yacht,” Emmy said, lost in thought. “It is very small inside compared to newer ones, but it is definitely big enough for us.”
The captain had clearly been listening in on our conversation, because he turned around, keeping one hand on the wheel while he spoke. “It’s a tradeoff. You can find an old gem like this for a surprisingly good price, but the vintage boats need more maintenance. We haul the Narcisse out of the water every winter, and spend quite a bit of time and money keeping it in perfect running shape. What are you thinking your budget would be?”
Angela and Emmy both looked at me for the answer. I shrugged and said, “Well, I guess I’d try to keep it under, what, fifteen million, including whatever it takes to get it up and going,” I said. “I mean, that’s about what the townhouse in New York cost, and that was sort of similar, in a way.”
“A townhouse is like a yacht?” The captain asked. “That sounds like the start of a joke.”