Comfortable Distance

Dedication

In loving memory of my sweet daughter, Annie.

To Sharon, for understanding and caring. We all should be blessed with such a friend to help lead us through the darkness of life’s tragedies and back into the light. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Acknowledgments

A big thank you to the skippers of Puget Sound who generously offered their sailing knowledge to this landlubber. After a few months on a houseboat, I began to understand the love affair with nautical life and why men go down to the sea in ships.

Also, a thank you to my bro for being my rock. Love ya.

Chapter 1

Dana’s desk was strewn with sketches. Some were finished cartoons, ready to be scanned into the computer and sent to the publisher. Some were only rough ideas not yet fully developed. She applied a few last strokes and held the sketch up for a final check. She had drawn a dog, a female black Scottie named Ringlet to be exact, tethered to a leash. Her coat was clean and brushed to a shiny gloss. Dana had learned how to suggest such things in a simple pen and ink drawing. The dog had a bow pinned to the top of her head and she had a proud though annoyed expression on her face. The dog’s human, a thin figure of a woman, was dressed in shorts, tank top and running shoes. She had a shy smile as she trotted into the park, holding the dog’s leash. The bubble over the dog’s head read: I hate it when she’s trolling for lesbians and I’m the chum.

Dana added a line here and a stroke there, examining every detail. She was a creative perfectionist in her work. She had a classic education in fine arts with a master’s degree from the University of Washington. She spent a summer in Europe studying the masters and was accomplished in watercolors and pastels. She had a flair for brightly colored pen and ink images, and the wall above her desk held several of her works. She could work pretty much anywhere with some of her best sketches coming on the spur of the moment in the most bizarre places. The tools of her trade were a black calligraphy pen and a tray of watercolors. From these humble beginnings Dana drew one of the best-loved, amusing characters in the gay literary world.

Dana Robbins, aka Robinette, was the artist behind Ringlet, a well-published syndicated cartoon. Ringlet was a perky little mutt with a curious personality and a propensity to find trouble where trouble didn’t exist. Dana had discovered her cartoon talent quite by accident. She had added a few cartoon sketches to a report for a continuing education class on social art. The professor didn’t care for her point of view in the report but gave her glowing marks on the character she drew. Like many of those things touched by fate, a classmate knew someone who knew someone and six months later Ringlet was born.

This one is ready. What do you think, Ringlet? Dana said, tilting her head as she gave it a final inspection. Dana signed Robinette to the corner of the sketch and set it aside to dry.

She had been at her desk since six a.m. Much to her surprise, it was now after eleven. She stood up and stretched, her slender white tummy exposed between her shirt and jeans. Dana was thirty-two years old with strawberry blond hair. It was long and lusciously wavy but usually held back in a ponytail to keep it out of her work. During the summer she had freckles across her nose when she stood in the sun too long. She was normally cheerful and friendly with an artistic flare. Until three weeks ago, she also had a girlfriend, one who didn’t understand or accept Dana’s decision to move out. Nor did she accept Dana’s explanation as to why she needed some time alone to think. For months Dana felt something eroding their relationship, but Shannon didn’t agree. Whether it was a serious problem or a minor difficulty, Dana knew she needed a few months away from whatever stress was eating at her. When she heard Morgan Faylor’s turquoise houseboat was for rent, she knew it was just what the doctor ordered.

Dana made a cup of coffee, curled into the wicker rocking chair on the houseboat deck and watched the boats entering the harbor. It was the second weekend in July and in Olympia, Washington that meant Lakefair, a week-long festival in the downtown streets and the boardwalk along the harbor. A nearly nonstop parade of boats had been passing by her deck for days. Everything from luxurious cabin cruisers to single-mast sailboats slipped into the marina and took up temporary residence, adding to the party atmosphere. It was a beautiful day and if Dana was lucky she could spend a few hours with her sketch pad on her lap, finding inspiration for a cartoon or two.

Just as she had put pen to paper, a spider dropped down from the ceiling.

I wish you’d do that somewhere else, she said. The complex spider’s web was already draped across the corner. Frowning at the spider, she moved her chair to the other side of the deck. How spiders found their way onto a houseboat was a mystery but they frequently did. She tried to remind herself spiders brought luck, as Morgan had told her the day Dana moved onto the houseboat.

It was more of a house than a boat. It had a living room, a fully equipped galley, a bathroom with a wooden Japanese soaking tub, and a loft bedroom with bedside windows that looked out over the harbor. What it didn’t have was a motor. Propulsion was at the mercy of a hired towboat, but Dana didn’t mind. She wasn’t going anywhere. She just needed a place to live. The idea of living in a marina near downtown Olympia seemed like a good idea, or perhaps just an interesting one. Life on a houseboat was certainly different. Dana had never spent the night on a boat before three weeks ago. In fact, other than a ferry, she had never been on a boat at all before she loaded up her car with clothes and art supplies and moved onto the turquoise blue houseboat.

Dana was deep into her drawing when she heard giggling from a boat two slips away. Curious, Dana glanced in that direction. The two women on the rear deck of the day cruiser didn’t notice her. They were too busy kissing and fondling each other to notice anything. Dana was about to go inside and leave them to their fun when one of the women, a young brunette with a butch haircut, pulled the other’s shirt off, revealing two of the largest breasts Dana had ever seen. The first woman immediately began sucking one of the dark brown nipples, bringing a loud moan from the owner. Dana slid down in her chair, hoping to remain invisible and not embarrass the lovers.

The brunette fumbled the woman’s shorts and underpants off and tossed them aside.

Oh, baby, the woman groaned, grabbing the chrome railing around the bench. Give it to me.

Dana slid further down in her chair, trying to decide how she could get inside without them noticing her. She couldn’t help but be a little envious. It had been a long time since she had spontaneous heart-pounding sex like that.

Yes! Yes! the woman shrieked, writhing to her partner’s touch.

Dana smiled to herself as she crawled across the floor and through the open door, allowing the women their privacy. As soon as she was inside, the telephone rang. She quickly shut the door and ran to answer it.

Hello, she whispered.

Hello? Is someone there?

Hello, she said, realizing no one could hear.

Hi, Dana girl. Did I interrupt anything?

Hi, Ruth Ann. No, I was just watching the boats coming in. She wasn’t going to admit she had been watching two women having mind-blowing sex.

Yeah. Aren’t they something? Did you see the big one with the helicopter pad on the top? No one in the world had an accent like Ruth Ann Smith’s. It was the product of a childhood in Alabama, teen years in New Hampshire and adulthood in Washington.

No. I must have missed that one. Was there a helicopter on it?

No. They had patio tables on the top with umbrellas that looked like grass skirts. I’d say they planned on having one hell of a party tonight. Ruth Ann had a hearty laugh.

Do they all do that? Have parties, I mean.

You bet. That’s what makes Lakefair special. More beer, barbecue and boobs than you can shake a stick at.

I’ve noticed some of that already, Dana said, watching a boat chug past with a pair of bathing beauties sunbathing on the deck. Their bathing suits were little more than floss and postage stamps.

I thought I’d let you know we’ve moved up the time. Come on over about six. Connie said seven is too late for us old folks. When we were your age, we could eat late and it wouldn’t bother us. But at sixty-five, if we don’t eat dinner until eight o’clock, we’ll be up all night.

Okay. What else can I bring?

Nothing. Just a bottle of cheapo vino. Or whatever else you want to drink.

Are you sure? I’d be glad to make a salad or dessert.

Nope. Connie has it all under control. We do this every year and she has a pretty good handle on the food.

How about you, Ruth Ann? Do you help in the kitchen?

No, I stay out of the way. That’s my duty and I do a bang-up job of it. I make ice and fill glasses. I think she’s going to let me open the chip bags this year though.

If you need help, send up a flare.

Dana looked out at the far end of the marina closest to downtown. She couldn’t see it for the row of tall cabin cruisers but over there somewhere was Ruth Ann and Connie’s boat, the Kewpie Doll. They had been partners for thirty-four years. Ruth Ann insisted it was thirty-five, but who was counting. They had been living on their 1958 forty-six-foot cabin cruiser for three years. It used to be a weekend destination but the fascination grew into a lifestyle, and unable to resist, they’d finally moved onto it fulltime. Like many of the permanent residents across the marina, they loved the adventure of living on a boat within walking distance of downtown shops and cafes. They could pretend to live a seafaring life without ever untying the dock lines.

Ruth Ann and Connie had mothered Dana ever since she’d moved onto the houseboat three weeks ago. This call was Ruth Ann’s daily check-in. Normally, she’d call with a transparent excuse that somehow ended in a maternal lecture on how Dana shouldn’t hesitate to call if she needed anything, anything at all, no matter how minor, no matter what time. Then she would make sure Dana had their telephone number, both of their cell numbers, and the security code to the gate to their dock, just in case it wasn’t the same security code as her gate, although it was and had been for months. Ever since they invited Dana to come to their Lakefair boat party Ruth Ann had a perfectly legitimate excuse to call and she did, every day, sometimes twice a day.

I thought I’d give you a heads-up on who’ll be at the party tonight. First there’s Bev. She’ll be the one wearing a cowboy hat. She always does. She’s from Houston and you know what they say. You can take the lesbo out of Texas but you can’t take the hat off her head. Bev’s a looker, too. Damn nice rack. Dana could hear someone in the background censure Ruth Ann’s comment.

Was that Connie? Dana teased.

Yes. You’d think she never saw a nice pair before. Ruth Ann laughed. Anyway, Bev’s a massage therapist. Real sweetheart. Her girlfriend couldn’t come. She had some family reunion thing in Portland this weekend.

And Bev wasn’t invited to go along? Dana said curiously.

Oh, yeah. She was but Bev said they aren’t at that point in their relationship where she wants to meet the whole family just yet. Between you and me, I don’t think they will ever be at that point. I don’t particularly care for her girlfriend. But that’s none of my business. Ruth Ann’s voice trailed off as if throttling her. Then there’s Kathy. Who knows what she’ll be wearing. Something funky, I’m sure. And her hair may be some strange color, like purple or orange. But she’s a sweetie, too. She’s getting over her last relationship. That makes two this year. Poor Kathy! She really liked this one. Kathy works for a car dealership up in Tacoma. You’ll like her. She’s fun to be around. And then there’s Christy. Ruth Ann stopped and laughed. Christy is a character. You can’t miss her. She’s got square shoulders like a football player. In another life she probably was one. Christy works with Connie at the Transit Center. She drives the Shelton bus. She’s also the Casanova in the bunch. I’m sure she’ll give you the once-over. Just smile and ignore her. She’s not dating anyone right now, but we’d know it if she was. She’d be bragging on how big the girl’s bazooms were or how often they did it. Marty is another one of the group. She was coming but she called this morning to say she had a wicked migraine and not to expect her. She gets those barfing kind of headaches. She’s our hairdresser. She’s an Amazon beauty. It’s a shame you won’t get to meet her. Actually, she’d probably remind you of Shannon. So maybe it’s just as well she won’t be here. And then there’s Dr. Jamie Hughes.

A doctor? Dana said curiously.

Doctor as in professor doctor out at the university. She said she’d be here but who knows? If she gets busy in her lab, she may forget to come altogether. She knows scientific stuff no one else ever heard of.

How did she get into your group?

She scuba dives in Budd Bay. Her research boat used to be moored next to ours. We knew her before she moved her boat out to West Side Marina. They don’t have the access to downtown like we do so they can’t charge as much slip rental, so it’s cheaper and Jamie said it was closer to where she needed to be. She lives right across the harbor on the west side of the Budd Bay. The tan apartments with balconies, I think. Jamie is older. Not as old as Connie and me, lord knows, but older that the rest of you girls. You can’t miss her. She’s the tall, quiet one with glasses. She always looks like she’s contemplating some great hypothesis. Sometimes I wonder why she puts up with us. Other than her, you’ll be the only one at the party who went to college. We certainly aren’t on Jamie’s level, education wise.

That shouldn’t make any difference. Friends are friends, regardless how much education you have.

Yeah, but I feel like an idiot when I’m around her.

She’s that overbearing? Dana said.

No, not at all. But when you’re around someone that smart, it’s hard not to feel a little dumb. She’s a sweetheart. A little quiet and analytical sometimes but nice.

She must date someone from the university then, Dana said.

Not her. Dr. Jamie Hughes is having a romantic relationship with each and every slimy creature in Puget Sound. She’s on a first-name basis with them all. Ruth Ann laughed. Don’t worry about meeting the girls. They’re going to love you.

Dana hadn’t planned on worrying about it. Meeting Ruth Ann and Connie’s friends wasn’t a life altering event. Dana only agreed to go because Ruth Ann kept needling her about getting out and meeting people. It was easier to give in and go than listen to her daily list of reasons why she should. And Ruth Ann and Connie were nice people. Dana had met them through Shannon’s work. An evening on their boat with a few of their friends might be just what she needed to find a little balance in her life.

Dress casual, Ruth Ann added. I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt. So is Connie. Jamie is the only holdout. She’ll probably wear professor clothes or something. Now, you’ve got the gate code?

Yes.

See you at six.

Bye-bye, Dana said and hung up, glancing out the window. The women on the nearby boat had finished and left. Dana had just settled back into her chair with her pen in hand when the houseboat telephone rang again. She reached for the cordless, expecting it to be Ruth Ann with a last-minute question or instruction, but it was Shannon. Dana sat holding the handset, staring at Shannon’s name flashing on the screen. Finally, it stopped ringing. The light flashed, indicating she had left a message. Dana was sure it was only the first of many now that she had her telephone number. She went back to work without checking it. At least she tried. Whatever inspiration she had been working from was gone. Shannon’s call had drained her concentration. She went inside to shower and change for the party.

Chapter 2

Dana locked the door and headed down the dock. She was late. The party had started thirty minutes ago and she was still fighting the urge to stay home. A last-minute idea for a cartoon panel kept her hunched over her sketch pad well past six and she was surprised Ruth Ann hadn’t called yet. Maybe she wouldn’t be missed. After a few hellos, Dana hoped she could blend into the background and slip away.

It was only a few hundred yards to their side of the marina and the Kewpie Doll moored in slip twenty-three. On foot it took ten minutes and two blocks to circle the boardwalk. During Lakefair, every inch of dock space was filled with boats from as far away as the San Juan Islands and beyond. When the marina filled to capacity, boats were simply anchored in the harbor, their occupants happy to row or motor ashore in dinghies or inflatable rafts the locals called rubber ducks.

Dana keyed in the security code and opened the gate. The dock was abuzz with boaters enjoying the carnival atmosphere. She was greeted by several partygoers as she made her way down the dock to Ruth Ann’s boat.The Kewpie Doll was pointed into the dock, her back decks facing the harbor. Like Dana’s houseboat, Ruth Ann and Connie had an outside slip with an unobstructed view of Budd Bay and all its activities.

Hello, she called, tapping on the side of the hull near the access gate.

Hey, there you are, Ruth Ann said, grinning at her. She unlatched the gate and waved Dana aboard. I wondered what happened to you. I was afraid you fell overboard. She wrapped Dana in a warm hug. Ruth Ann was a stout woman with short gray hair that curled naturally to look like a Brillo pad. She had a middle-aged waddle under her chin that jiggled when she talked. She was wearing jean shorts and a 2004 Seattle gay pride T-shirt.

I’m sorry. I got busy with Ringlet and time got away from me.

You aren’t supposed to work during Lakefair, she scolded. It’s party time.

Is that Dana? Connie said, hurrying out to give a hug of her own. Connie was also a bit overweight but was a happy woman. Her eyes gleamed and her body language told Dana she was genuinely glad to see her. Connie was a driver for the city bus company and had learned that a smile got her more cooperation than a scowl. Her hair was a peculiar shade of brown, something between auburn and persimmon. At least it was this month. "Come in and get acquainted, honey. I have to go stir or we’ll be eating burnt hamburger. Make yourself at home. The Kewpie Doll is at your disposal. Get her some wine, Raggie." Ruth Ann’s dearest and closest friends called her Raggie. Dana hadn’t heard exactly why but she still called her by her rightful name. The name Raggie sounded crass to her.

Everyone’s on the upper deck watching the babes on the boats coming in. Let’s get you something to drink and you can join them. Ruth Ann winked.

I hope these are a decent year, Dana said, handing her two bottles of wine.

How would we know? she chuckled.

Ruth Ann handed Dana a glass of wine and showed her the basic layout of the boat. It had two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a galley, a small living room, an inside and an outside dining area, and two decks, one of each level. Both decks had patio tables and chairs. The ones on the top deck had umbrellas.

Raggie, I need a hand in here, sweetheart, Connie called.

Make yourself at home. The girls are up there, Ruth Ann said, pointing to the ladder. Be right back.

Can I help? Dana said, looking toward the galley.

Nope. She probably only wants me to get something down from the cabinet. I’m not allowed to cook, she said and went inside.

Dana stood at the railing, watching a seagull bob in the wake of a passing motorboat. This was one of those postcard images. The water shimmered with the reflection of the evening sun. Mountains scalloped along the horizon. Tiny sailboats in the distance danced across the mouth of the harbor like white-winged moths. Dana couldn’t help but smile and drink in the beauty. How lucky was she to live in such a gorgeous place? She had just taken a sip of wine when she remembered what Shannon called a scene like this.

Fucking nature. Ain’t it great? she would say sarcastically.

Dana choked on her wine. It was amazing how the word fuck fit perfectly into almost all of Shannon’s conversations. When Dana displayed even a hint of displeasure at such language, she would use it all the more. Dana grabbed the railing to steady herself as she coughed.

Are you all right? a voice said from the deck above.

Dana looked up to see a woman leaning her elbows on the railing. The glint of sun reflected in the woman’s glasses, temporarily blinding Dana’s view.

Are you choking?

No, it just went down my Tuesday pipe. Dana tried repeatedly to clear her throat.

What is a Tuesday pipe? the woman asked, pushing her glasses against the bridge of her nose.

I meant I swallowed wrong. Dana’s voice cracked. She coughed and cleared her throat again.

Sounds bad.

Dana, are you okay? Ruth Ann called. Do you need the Heimlich maneuver?

Dana shook her head, afraid to answer in case she hadn’t finished coughing.

Is someone dying? Another woman stuck her head over the railing and peered down at Dana.

I’m fine. Dana had one more feeble cough before her voice cleared. I just swallowed wrong.

It went down her Tuesday pipe, the woman in glasses explained.

Damn the Tuesday pipe, Ruth Ann said. Be careful, sweetheart. I don’t want to have to call the paramedics on you so early in the evening. She smiled before going back to the galley.

Maybe you should stick with water, the woman with the glasses said. The booze must be too strong for you.

I’m not drunk. I just choked.

But you don’t seem to know what day it is.

Of course I do. It’s Saturday. Tuesday pipe is only an expression.

If you say so. She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

Dana, did I hear you choked? Connie came rushing up to Dana, drying her hands on a towel. She slipped a hand around Dana’s waist and gave her a worried look.

I’m fine, Connie. It just went down wrong.

What are you drinking? She took Dana’s glass and sniffed it. "Oh, honey, don’t drink that stuff. That’s Raggie’s idea