It Could Be Argued I Was Issued a Wife

by Rob Simpson

volleyball-netYou can imagine what a group of sailors look like in the Bahamas after three weeks at sea. If you can’t, it looks like white skin turning red before your eyes and tan lines at right angles. It looks like beer spilling from solo cups, splashing poolside, and bartenders rolling eyes. We were celebrating. I remember it was my last patrol, and my birthday to boot. So my buddy took my duty and I ended up with three days off in Nassau. We stayed at an all inclusive resort on the beach, and within the first ten minutes, we were three beers deep and playing volleyball.

She wandered up, stating she was good at volleyball. Her bikini made her ability to play obsolete. We didn’t care if she could play volleyball. She matched beers, keeping up with us dirty sailors. She parried the sharpest wits and weathered the storm of cursing and vileness that can surround a baker’s dozen of seafaring men, blowing steam into the Caribbean atmosphere. More girls were attracted to the din, but she was the Caribbean moon that night. She was the stars. She had everyone’s attention. Even mine, though I was too bashful to say so. I was a kid on the playground, ignoring and shy. She didn’t play games. She took what she wanted. And it was me. She was my first kiss of my twenty third year, and now we are married with a three year old, a decade in the mix. I met my wife on a port call, and she met her husband on spring break, on the white sand beaches of Nassau, under the azure sky and crispy, coconut sun of the Caribbean.


Category: SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student