I think the others are starting to feel the pinch too.
Lacey is baking bread all the time.
Richard is fishing off the boat (and not catching a thing).
Tai is being Tai. We talk to each other, of course, and occasionally he’ll say something charming, and then I’ll admire the way his lips move when he’s talking, and then he’ll put up some wall again to keep me in my place.
But the food has been good and cocktail hour, albeit bumpy as hell, is a nice way for everyone to come together.
Hopefully that was the last of the waves.
Daisy’s Log: Day 4
Today Richard defied the odds of his dorkiness and caught a Mahi-mahi!
Tai cooked it for dinner. Highlight of the day, hands down.
(Have I mentioned there’s nothing sexier than a man that can cook?)
Oh, Lacey ran out of yeast and had a meltdown.
I read two books back to back.
The seas are calmer today. Last night wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be though, since I actually felt better being on deck in the fresh night air.
I’m starting to look forward to Tai’s extra strong coffee and our middle of the night rendezvous.
I’m starting to appreciate the silence.
Daisy’s Log: Day 5
I’ve discovered that there are fifteen steps from the cockpit to the front of the boat. I walked those fifteen steps for an hour, just to try and get my steps up. I miss working out. I miss going for runs. I miss going for a walk ANYWHERE.
Instead all I see is water. All I see is this boat.
All I see are Lacey and Richard and Tai.
Richard is growing a mustache and it looks awful, like someone glued pubes to his face.
Lacey is making flatbread now since she ran out of yeast. We pretend it tastes good.
And Tai has a sore back from sleeping on the couch. I only know this because I noticed him wincing when he was going up the stairs and I had to literally bug him forever until he finally admitted it.
The couch is way too small for his frame at any rate.
So I gave him my room.
He wouldn’t take it.
Then I lay down on the couch, so that if he really wanted me to move, he’d have to carry me (again…ugh…nice reminder there).
He tried. Oh, he tried to pick me up.
But then his back went out.
So I won.
He’s asleep in the cabin now. Richard and Lacey are up top, quietly arguing about something. This forced proximity is even starting to get to them.
And I’m scribbling into my journal, wishing I had something more important to talk about.
Oh yeah…five more days of this hell left! First thing I’m doing when I get off this damn boat is heading straight to a bar. I’m going to get drunk, I’m going to hook up with some hot tourist and let loose what will be ten days worth of sexual frustration of being so close to Tai (I mean, my dreams have been filthy).
Then I’m going to say adios to these three amigos for a very long time.
Maybe forever.
Daisy’s Log: Day 6
Guess what?
There’s no news at all, and there never is and never will be, because this sailing trip is like Groundhog Day, with every day exactly the same. There’s no relief, there’s no escape.
We are in a timeless loop.
WELL, except it turns out I’m an excellent poker player. I guess there’s something vacant about my face that makes it hard to tell if I’m bluffing or not. If I have bad cards, I’m smiling, if I have good cards, I’m smiling.
Seems like that’s been how I’ve operated most of my life, or at least Lacey made that comment slip once I beat her ass for the millionth time. Hey, got to work that shit to my advantage—plus I made fifty dollars and I won the last bottle of vodka. Not like I’m going to drink it all in the next four days but…actually, yeah I might.
Tensions on the ship are high.
What else is new?
All the good food ran out a few days ago and we’ve eaten all of our snacks, so we’re just down to canned food now. Gross. I feel the sodium swelling through my veins, along with the fact that I haven’t been able to exercise in nearly a week.
Honestly, Tai said something today that I never thought I’d hear him say.
He said, “I want this to be over now.”
And hell if he didn’t sum it up for all of us.
We are ALL dying to get off this boat. Lacey is having some weird panic attacks, Richard shaved his mustache off while the boat was rocking and cut himself up really bad, Tai has had a little too much wine at dinner, probably so he can pass out earlier (and cocktail hour is canceled since we can’t stand the sight of each other).
Fingers crossed the wind that’s been picking up lately will help push us there faster.
Daisy’s Log: Day 7
Here’s what I’ve been dreaming of lately.
I’m warning you…it’s pretty detailed.
I’m back in San Francisco. It’s a Saturday night and I’m in my apartment. I have my own space, I have my own room. I have privacy again.
I sit at home, in my own bed, enjoying a glass of Paso Robles Cab Sav, admiring my nails. Earlier I had gone to the salon to get them done and talked the technician’s ear off.
Then I get ready for the evening. I take a long shower—so much space! It’s not some cold hand-held thing in the tiny bathroom, it’s a real shower that I can turn around in and everything. I even have my wine in the shower!
I take a ridiculously long time washing my hair, getting it really clean, because there’s no one yelling at me to stop wasting water. I shave my legs, exfoliate, and use a hair mask. I step out into my huge bathroom and slather on body butter and let it dry and then I blow-dry my hair (I miss my blow-dryer! Why did I think Tai would have one?). Once dry and shiny (no more of these salt-soaked tangles from the wind), I curl my hair in long waves like I used to, then I spend extra time on my makeup. Not the two palettes I’m stuck with here, but the collection I have at home that is overflowing with choices.
Then it’s time to get dressed. I open my closet and ta-da! I have scores of clothes to choose from. They’re all freshly laundered, none of them are wrinkled and smell like diesel after being on this godforsaken boat.
I get ready. Choose a purse and then head out.
Where do I go?
I can go anywhere!
I can walk down the street to Hayes St, stand in a ridiculously long line for Salt & Straw and be around people, people who aren’t these three idiots. Or I could go to Blue Bottle for a coffee, perhaps catch the eye of a cute guy working in the shop. I could get a spicy mango margarita at the Sugar Bar, or head up the street to A Mano, my favorite Italian restaurant and eat my heart out. I would order every single dish, drink every wine, so grateful to not be slurping on cans of soup and watching the alcohol slowly run out.
Then, THEN, when I was good and ready, I would find myself a guy.
Not just any guy.
A guy that looks exactly like Tai, down to his battered knuckles and the scar at the bottom of his lip, and the flecks of gold in his mahogany eyes. I would find his exact replica, bring him home, and bring his head between my legs until I had a million orgasms.
And this version of him would be so much less complicated than the version that’s staring at me while I write this.