A boat. What is Lindsey supposed to do with a 40 foot sailboat? Or more accurately, what am I supposed to do with a 40 foot sailboat? His great uncle left it to him in the will and now here I am, standing on the dock at the marina ready to sign for its delivery.
He didn't want it, but we had to do something with it until it sold. Neither of us know how to sail and frankly he just doesn't have the time to learn. It's a beautiful boat- or at least it was at one point. It wasn't exactly in immaculate condition. The bones were there though, and it had all of the original teak. Someone would want it, and frankly we could use the money.
It was placed into a slip and I paid the marina manager the first month's dockage. He was friendly, letting me know what needed to be done and how to do it, and I appreciated his advice as I knew nothing of this subject. Paul and his wife, Mary Beth, ran the marina and lived on site. They both agreed to check on the boat and help me find a buyer as it was easy for them to see that I was in way over my head here. I was relieved to have the help and returned to our apartment for the night.
Lindsey become distant as soon as he left again, calling infrequently, and I had effectively given up on joining him on the tour. The band was in Seattle tonight and I rummaged through a stack of paperwork for the information on their hotel. I needed to talk to him about a multitude of things, but mostly I just missed him. I dialed the number and was connected to Lindsey's room. It rang and rang, eventually being answered by an unfamiliar voice.
"Hello," she giggled. I could hear quite a commotion in the background.
"Where is Lindsey?" I was beyond pleasantries. I was furious.
"Who's calling," the woman asked. I could hear multiple other female voices and music in the background.
"Stevie. Tell him its Stevie," I said through gritted teeth.
"Lindsey," she yelled into the background. "Someone named Stacy is on the phone."
"Yeah, Stacy," she droned on, "he doesn't know who you are."
"Stevie," I corrected her. "My name is Stevie."
"Okay, well, Stevie, or whatever your name is..."
I heard a commotion in the background.
"Steph? Is that you babe?" Lindsey's voice came through on the other end. I could tell he was covering the other end of the receiver. "Everybody out! Get out!" I heard the people in the background gripe as the music stop and eventually everything was still.
"Lindsey, what the fuck is going on?" I couldn't keep my temper under control at this point. "You haven't called me in a week and a half and now a woman is answering the phone in your room?"
"Let me explain, babe... We were just-"
I cut him off. "No. No, Lindsey. I'm sick of your excuses. I can't take it anymore."
He sighed. "You're starting to criticize little things I do. Let's just not right now. I was just hanging out with a few people before the show, and I was going to call..."
"Seriously, Lindsey? Seriously? Save it. I'm done with this whole situation. I've been driving myself crazy trying to figure out what I can do to make things easier on you. I've made every possible excuse excuse to try and justify your atrocious behavior but I cant anymore." My anger had turned to tears. "I'm done, Lindsey."
He was silent on the phone for a moment. "Wha- what? Stephanie, no, please..."
I closed my eyes, attempting to remain strong. "Send someone for your things. I'll have all of the paperwork you need for the boat, checking accounts and lease termination."
"Stephanie! Listen to me!" I could tell he was borderline hysterical. "Baby, something beautiful's dying. We have a love you don't find every day. Don't let it slip away. I'm begging you. Please!"
"I'm not doing this anymore," I cried.
A string of profanity came out of his mouth and I could tell he was trying to come up with something to say. "Stevie, you know I can't come home right now. Give me 5 days and I can get there and we can talk about it. Or I can send you a plane ticket. Just don't do anything irrational right now."
All of the beautiful moments in our relationship faded away. In the forefront of my mind was the hurt I'd felt over the last months. The strain on my heavy heart to watch him move away from me. I knew that at this point it wasn't going to get any better.
"You're not hearing me," I offered him. "If you can send me a ticket why didn't you do so months ago. I just called you and another woman answered your phone. This is it. We're done, Lindsey. It's over. Goodbye."
I hung up the phone, unplugged it from the wall, and cried myself to sleep.
