Chapter One : Sailing

The Carrot and the Mule
by Joseph Foti, Esq.

The icy December rain pelted my eyes as I tried to keep my 500 foot yacht from slamming into the jagged Nantucket rocks. Despite my efforts, the howling night winds, raging sea, and dense fog made steering almost impossible. This was by far the worst storm I had encountered in thirteen years of sailing. Standing at the helm, forced to endure Maurice's mocking glances, I watched helplessly as twenty foot waves crashed continually around the yacht. One good hit would surely plunge us into watery graves.

"This is all your fault, Maurice," I screamed, grabbing him by the head and flinging him into the sea.

"What have I become?" I yelled. I could not believe what I had just done. Maurice was my trusted confidant. He was an eight-inchtall toy cow, a present from my deceased grandmother and the only childhood toy I had ever received. When I pressed his stomach, he would moo three times.

Standing there soaked and battered, it dawned upon me that I had become what I despised, a scapegoater.

"No more!" I yelled, howling at the heavens. "I will not lose my Inner Peace."

The waves kept tossing the yacht in the air and throwing it back at the dark blue sea, completely disregarding its value. My yacht was the fruit of years of suffering. The abusive childhood, the years of manual labor in a dank warehouse. I will never forget those seemingly endless hours spent dragging heavy boxes and stocking filthy bins with ballet shoes, my lungs filling with soot from the sealed vents, while my hands mingled in blood and dirt at the age of ten. Yet, none of that mattered now as the sea prepared to cancel all bets.

My yacht was my sanctuary. It was the only place on Earth where I felt truly safe. It had cost me nearly five million dollars to build and every detail was to my specifications. The bow was that of a nineteenth century cutter ship. It was sleek and sharp, enabling it to glide through the waves with almost mocking simplicity. The cabin was designed to resemble the banquet room of a seventeenth century French chateau, sabers and all. The bathroom had a marble tub with gold fixtures and was showered in fresh cut lilies and red roses. Even the dinghy had golden oars and diamond engravings. However, none of this mattered now as God prepared to once again destroy my only source of joy.

The waves pounded the deck, tore apart the waterproof doors, and rushed into the hull. Leaving the wheel, I started up the pumps and ran down into the cabin, searching for something to block the doorway with.

It was a situation of my own making. I should have hired a crew, but I had let my distrust of humanity get the better of me. At worst I thought they would kill me in my sleep and sell the yacht, at best I figured they would defecate in my breakfast. No, I had bought Inner Peace to escape them, bringing them along would have defeated the purpose. Nonetheless, right now I could have used them. "No, matter," I told myself. "Self-reliance has always been my forte."

I was determined not to lose the yacht. After losing my darling Sara, I vowed to never again care about something to the extent that God's taking it from me would have any effect on me. Nevertheless, having taken Sara, God was after my final pleasure, my yacht which I named Inner Peace. The sky thundered ominously, each hot flash a reminder of God's absolute control.

The cold black sea poured into the cabin, quickly shorting out the engines and flooding the pumps. With the power totally gone, I realized the yacht was doomed. As the water started to fill the cabin, I blindly waded around searching for the armoire. Nearly cracking my head on it, I rummaged through the top draw, grabbing some old photos and letters from Sara. I had told myself I was over Sara, naively believing that the greatest betrayal of my life could be forgotten. Unfortunately, with each pounding wave it all came roaring back to me. My yacht, my plane, my beautiful estates; White Acre, Black Acre, Green Acre, and Blue Acre. They had all been designed to make me forget.

Emerging from the cabin, I put the photos and letters in a pouch on my life vest, climbed into the dinghy and started up the motor. As it pulled away, I watched the ocean pummel Inner Peace, tossing it up into the air one final time before slamming it down in an explosion of wind and water. Enraged, the waves knocked me to the side of the dinghy, like a spoiled child playing in the tub. When I looked up Inner Peace was no more. The motor of the dinghy quickly flooded and died leaving me to God's fury.

The lightning lit the sky an eerie crimson as I reached into mylife jacket and pulled out a photo of my long lost Sara. Gazing upon it, I realized that the sea could no longer shield me from my misery. Throughout my life, the sea had always been my protector. I could swim freely or go to the bow of Inner Peace and look up into the purple and orange sky as the wind washed through my hair, seemingly cleansing my soul.

Now the sea was no longer peaceful and every wave battered me with her memory. Suddenly it dawned on me how both the sea and Sara were alike. They were both part of God's ultimate game and I had been too stupid to realize it. There was a time when Sara had made me feel as happy and carefree as the ocean breeze in my hair. Just being in her presence or hearing her voice filled me with pure euphoria. That is true love. That is an experience most people will never have and could never understand. Sadly, just like the sea, that sweet gentle breathtaking woman had turned on me with just as much fury and far less of a warning.

About the Author

Born and raised in New York City, Joseph Foti graduated from Brooklyn Law School in 1998. During this time, he worked in the Sex Crimes and Domestic Violence Bureaus of the King's County District Attorney's Office. He is a published poet whose work has appeared in several anthologies by the National Library of Poetry. These include The Space Between, Best Poems of 1995, Best Poems of 1996, and Best Poems of 1997. "The Carrot And The Mule" is Joseph Foti's First Novel. He has written several short stories.