By Lucy

So, for all those who don’t (somehow) know, I regularly use “QueenLuci” as a screen name. It started as a joke half my lifetime ago, when I was 14, honestly almost intended as a placeholder until I found something more clever. When you voice-chat with people you don’t know while gaming, people will often glance at your username and just pull a nickname out of it (especially if your name has a bunch of xXx’s) and I expected to be given “Luci” as a nickname. Imagine my surprise when people started calling me “the Queen” and variations thereof. I started leaning into it for the humour value and here we are today!

I was amused to discover more than one person on the new Discord channel privately referred to me as the Queen and my planned birthday party on the fifth as “the Royal Birthday” (mostly Jeremy).

Tuesday was a slow day. I had to do some chores. Paul wanted me to pick up a particular kind of dress for a photoshoot we had planned on Wednesday, so I went to a couple different second-stores until I found the perfect one. I spent a good chunk of the day trying to pack what little I have – I’d like to move most of my stuff out before next weekend.

K wanted to try Chuck’s Roadhouse and Tuesday was the only afternoon I had nothing planned, so we went! We both got hamburgers and shared a plate of mozza sticks. 6 sticks for ten bucks, what a rip off! The service was a little slow but the food was excellent. But then, I knew what to expect, because I am from the “south” where we have chain restaurants. It’s still funny to me when people are all excited for a chain to move up here from the south… although I will forever miss the Mandarin.

I noted the burger alone was almost a thousand calories, so we went for a nice long walk afterwards.

I was still wearing my biker sweater as a habit. Some guy biked past us on a pedal bike, then doubled back and stopped in front of me.

“Hey! You work at the bike shop?”

I frowned. “Nope, I just have the sweater.”

As he pedaled off, I turned to K. “Also, wrong kind of bike!” I wonder what he wanted to ask, though.

The sweater has been on my mind a bit. I liked it, but it wouldn’t stop weighing on my mind that I only owned it because the Vagabond didn’t like my old sweater. Should I go back to my Pusheen sweater? The question wasn’t super important right now, but I’d be packing only one sweater for my trip and I needed to decide.

Wednesday morning I had to run out and grab one last thing for the shoot. Since we were going out in the woods, I had a jokey idea of making a bindle stick and doing a bit of a vagabond shoot. I walked down to the quilt shop and asked the lady for a fat quarter of some red polka-dot fabric. She asked why and I told her about the shoot, so she asked for a plug here! If you’re in town, stop by and check out Circle of Friend’s Quilt shop! I like going there, although I don’t quilt much.

We had originally decided on the photoshoot at 2, but I asked Paul if we could move it up to 1 and he agreed. I had told Chris I was a maybe for sailing, just in case the weather necessitated the shoot being later on in the day, but that was no longer the case.

My new suitcase had been delivered and was waiting for me at the post office, so I stopped by to grab it on the way to Cedar Falls. I figured Paul would be interested in seeing it. Most photographers are gearheads.

It was perfect timing – the last warm day, after Labour Day so it wasn’t full of hikers. Paul brought his walking stick for the bindle. I was less inspired for my outfit… oh well, it was just for fun.

Then it was time to change into the dress and jump into the river!

The inspiration behind the shoot was John Millais’ Ophelia, which lead to me and Paul nicknaming the shoot the Ophelia shoot. The basic idea was of the white dress contrasting the dark stream and the foliage surrounding it.

We started by getting some shots of me standing on a log perched above the main falls. I had my water socks for walking in the stream, but I took them off and left them in the water below the log. It didn’t roll, but it was bouncing up and down as I sidled across it, which was slightly nerve-wracking. It was impossible to hear him over the sound of the waterfall, which is the point where modelling becomes acting.

Then we went further upriver to a shallower, slower part where I could frolic in the water without Paul being concerned I would drown.

The river was shallow, but running too fast to warm up much. Paul told me I look too serene and I was supposed to be pretending to drown! Eventually we got some shots he was really happy with. I like any shoot I have to prep for a bit – it feels more serious and professional.

(I thought it would be prudent to mention, this photoshoot was Paul’s brainchild. I can imagine some concern about the idea of me casting myself in the role of a woman who famously drowned herself after being dumped)

After the shoot was done, I ran home to change into sailing clothes and have a bite to eat. Then away to the marina!

It was sad news when we got to the boat – someone had broken in. Well, ‘broken in’ in the sense that they weren’t invited, the boat is never locked so no breaking was necessary. They stole the chips, but not the crackers, and the rum, but not the wine (for the record, the rum is opened after we get back to the dock and pack the ship up). Some of the other ships had been damaged and had electronics stolen out of them, so we were fortunate.

We had a goodly amount of crew. It was decided the jib was still too damaged to be raising and lowering it a lot for the spinnaker, so we’d do wing-on-wing instead. Out past the breakwaters, dancing between the large bulk carriers. Kevin said the reason so many were hanging out in the bay was because they were all waiting for potash, and only one elevator loads potash.

We were doing really good right off the bat. I noticed on the return leg that almost every other boat opted to use a spinnaker and they all quickly dropped behind us. Ironic that a torn sail would hand us the victory!

There wasn’t much for me to do, although I was definitely needed. Part of that is that Amy and her daughter Olivia are very enthusiastic.

The wind was quite strong, with abundant whitecap waves. The boat seemed more in control than the first day we had had whitecaps, but I felt like the waves were breaking over the deck more often and all of us got a lot more soaked! Which, when coupled with a chunk of the day spent laying in a river, meant I spent most of the day wet and cold. Joy!

Foster suffers from being a teenage boy who wants to do everything himself, as well. Whenever we went wing-on-wing, he’d grab the pole and try to do it all himself instead of delegating or asking for help, which is a habit he needs to break quickly, before he gets hurt. At one point he was trying to hold the pole, the jib sheet, and the mast all at the same time. I reached out and grabbed the jib sheet, and surprised myself by being able to hold it with an steady grip despite the wind trying to wrench it from my grasp. But then, I’m always at my best when I’m being a hero.

The clip for the pole was not behaving. I leaned forward to make it easier for him to reach the sheet, and just then a vicious gust of wind jerked my arm forward, yanking my hand into the steel cable rigging for the mast. It felt like someone had whacked me across the knuckles with a riding crop! Then the pole was clipped on and we could settle back on the side deck.

I ended up ordering people around and I was really lost. I mean, I was accurate – ordering people to “hike” up on the rail when we needed to pull the boat back towards level, or to the other side on the return wing-on-wing leg when we needed the weight on the low side for aerodynamics (hydrodynamics?). Yelling “Hike!” was easy, because it was bleeding obvious. But I was standing near Chris and muttered to myself “weight to port” because everyone was kind of milling around the deck when we could be gaining speed, and Chris said “say it with authority.”

Authority? What authority do I have? Really and truly. This is like when Duff left me in charge in Regina; sure, Duff, a bunch of cocksure journeymen are gonna listen to the tiny second-term apprentice. Regardless of if they should or not.

Well… I suppose it is different, because it is Chris’ boat and he can order people to listen to me, but he hasn’t. We’re very democratic on the boat and tend to operate by general consensus, which makes the yelling of orders even more awkward.

And then the buzzer went and all the boats were behind us.

“Wait, did we… did we win?” I asked, looking around.

Chris nodded. The boat erupted into cheers.

After we got the boat packed up and settled down to have some snacks, the mood was jubilant! I stayed around just because I know they announce the standings at the sailing club on Wednesday. Gillian baked some excellent cut-out cookies!

Slowly everyone filtered away. No one was going to the club today, except me.

As we climbed off the boat and walked down the dock, Chris said “Have you noticed that things have been going smoother in the last three weeks?”

What? No. These last three weeks are the only frame of reference I have, I have no idea how things were before I got here…

Oh.

You’re implying things are smoother because of me?

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

I said goodnight and walked over to the tiny shack. There was no one really there yet – four guys were milling around inside the building. I sat down on the nearest sofa, feeling out of place. One of the guys cleared his throat and asked me if I had been sailing, and what boat I was on. Once I told him, he was all smiles, and invited me to have some pizza. I threw a five dollar bill in the payment box and grabbed myself a couple of slices of pizza.

People slowly filtered in. No one really acknowledged me. Holly didn’t show up, so absent the crew there was no one here who knew me. At 9:40 they announced the standings – we had indeed won. The guy who knew what boat I was on didn’t comment about my being there, so as far as the sailing club knew no one was present from the winning boat, but they still got to their feet, stomping and cheering and clapping for the boat that had won.

That felt pretty good!

Thursday was another slow day, because my birthday party was planned for that evening! Also I had bruises everywhere – across my knees and shins, and I could feel them across the back of my thighs, from sitting on the rail.

I walked down the bank. It occurred to me that I’d need cash to purchase a vehicle, and it was probably good to have a little extra on hand. Turns out, the bank required a week to order in “exotic” currency, so it was just as well that I had!

I went home and practiced packing up my new suitcase. I’d been on the fence about checking it or taking it as a carry-on. The clincher for me was when I tried packing my motorcycle boots and looked at the space they took up. I already knew the place in Methven didn’t require me to bring my tools, or even work boots, so it did seem kind of silly to be allocating space for things I wouldn’t need for a third of my trip. If I really needed tools because I ended up on an actual construction site, a basic hammer is not expensive. So there was nothing I was intending to pack that required me to check my bag, and I might as well just keep it with me.

At the last minute, K bailed on me! I asked Kevin if he could give me a ride so I didn’t have to worry about my alcohol consumption and he agreed. I walked to his place and arrived at 5:44, and knocked on the door, but apparently he didn’t hear me, because when he opened the door at 5:46 he jumped and shrieked.

“Ah, did I startle you?” I said, grinning slightly.

“Yes!”

Well, there’s a reason they call me the ghost of the boiler.

Away to Wacky’s!

In total, we had seven people show up, including meself. Jeremy and Jake showed up first, and they had gone out of their way to get a card that unfolded into a crown (which unfortunately wouldn’t stay on my head). Kevin2 and Heidi showed up next, Heidi handing me an envelope with 50 bucks in it (no card?). The last guest was someone else off the Discord I had never met before, a large man named Rob. And I do mean large! He could play Gregor Clegane (in looks, not demeanor. He’s a nice guy).

We ordered basically every appetizer off the menu and shared them around the table. I picked margarita as the drink for the evening and everyone kept refilling my glass. When it came to time to sing “Happy Birthday”, I picked Oreo cheesecake.

Halfway through dinner Duff called to wish me a happy birthday!

We spent more than two hours just drinking, chatting and picking away at the food, and probably would have been happy to do it for another two, but the arcade was the whole reason I had picked this location! Rob headed out and we all split up into odd couples – Kevin2 and Heidi, Jeremy and Jake, and me and Kevin. We met up a few times for games in common. The boys ended up being drawn to the dumb machine where you punch it and it measures your punch strength, while me and Heidi laughed and rolled our eyes.

I ended up selecting a bag of candies as a redeem for the tickets, mostly because everything else is plastic waste. It’s interesting, since the Keto diet I really can’t taste sweet anymore. Like if I were to eat a spoonful of sugar, it wouldn’t taste like anything to me. I can still taste the other “flavourings” in the candy, though.

Kevin drove me home. As we approached the turn, he asked, “Would you be interested in going back to my place?”

I sobered up immediately as images flickered past my eyes; dark hotel rooms, tears rolling down my face, shaking hands…

“No, thanks!” I squeaked, finally, trying not to betray my terror in my voice.

I climbed the stairs back to my small room, booted up the computer, and glanced at the empty space on the shelf where I usually keep my whisky. I put on The Force Awakens and stared blankly at the screen, while I picked my nails bloody until I was finally too tired and started nodding off in my chair.

You know why Leia is a general in the resistance and not a Senator in the New Republic? Because after the end of the Return of the Jedi, when people found out she was the daughter of Darth Vader she was forced to resign. Nevermind that she had helped bring down the Galactic Empire. Nevermind that the man had never raised her or even interacted with her as his daughter. All people needed to know was that her mother had had sex with Darth Vader at some point in the past, and that was all they needed to paint her soul black.

My phone rang in my dreams, and when I picked up the phone the Vagabond was crying on the other end, begging me to take him back.

Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to.

My phone buzzed in the real world. I rolled blearily over in bed and blinked at the phone. There was just a number, not a contact, and no name attached to the greeting. I forced my sticky brain to think through the hangover…

That’s my mother’s number.

Ugh. I threw the phone away and rolled back over.

Something icy shot through my veins and chased away sleep. When was the last time I spoke to her? Had to be at least 5 years, closer to 6 or 7. She had showed up at my doorstep with a quart of raspberries and screamed at my then-husband, threatening to call the cops if she didn’t speak to me. She’d somehow convinced herself that he was preventing me from speaking to her, and not that I didn’t, in fact, want to. The next day, or the day after, I had gone down to the cop shop and requested they call her and ask her not to contact me anymore.

And… what? She had decided that had expired? It had not.

Was my dad dead or dying? What a birthday gift that would be.

That was the only reason I hadn’t blocked her number, was so that I could hear if he had died. Although I had no expectation anyone would tell me if there was still time to visit. I know Oma had died suddenly, but no one had called me to tell me the week before Opa died that he was on his way out. If anyone had mentioned he had C Diff, I would have dropped everything and driven to Quebec. Hell, my dad barely wanted to tell me Oma had died, a year ago. He had texted me and asked me to call him, and when I did he said “I was going to text you to tell you she died, but then I thought I aught to call you.”

I feel the love.

The end of the text said “I’m worried about you.”

I still don’t have a concrete answer if she reads the blog – I just operate on the assumption that she does – but either way, why now? Considering all the dumb stuff I did this summer, right now my life is sailboat racing and preparing for a winter spent in the idyllic New Zealand countryside. What’s to worry about?

Somehow I fell asleep again. I woke 20 minutes before I was supposed to meet Hanuman at the hostel. Brushed my hair, pulled on some clothes, and stepped outside.

Brr! It was freezing! Autumn was here with a vengeance! I was spoiled last year.

Threw on a hoodie and started walking.

When I got to the hostel, a young woman burst out the door. “Are you Lucy!” She screamed, more a statement than a question.

“Yes?”

“Oh cool, I’m so glad I get to meet you finally! Hanuman talks about you all the time but he never tells me when you’re coming before you get here so I never get to meet you! I’m Bethany!” She said without pausing for a breath.

I hoped I was living up to whatever standard Hanuman set for me, when I was still half-asleep, annoyed and hungover and could barely muster a bemused smile. “Nice to meet you, Bethany.”

We talked for a few minutes until Hanuman finally came to the door. We started walking down to Bay Village for coffee.

“What did you tell her?” I asked, laughing.

“That you’re awesome, and you’re family, duh! Holly talks about you too, you know.”

I ordered a Pumpkin Spice Latte – yes, I worship at the altar of the PSL! In my defense, the latte is all I like. People often tease me by sending me PSL-flavoured products, but I don’t care for any of them.

We had a good giggle over our shared birthday. I gave him the card I picked out, which wasn’t my best. It just said “Ever wonder why old men wear black socks with sandals? You’re one year closer to finding out”. To which I joked; “You probably already do!”

We sat around chatting for a couple of hours, then walked back to the hostel. He forgot to grab his pizza to take back to his place. Then we walked back to my place to grab my car, my plants, and – unbeknownst to him – his present.

I ran up to my room first and threw the toolbelt into the giant box I had gotten with my suitcase and closed it. Then I invited him in and he opened it.

He smiled. A tear, then two, then many slid down his face.

“The gift is lovely, but it’s not just that. Everything is changing, Lucy.”

I know. It was hard to comprehend sometimes. I had deliberately set up my life so I could move on a whim, and I hadn’t settled in one place long enough for it to feel “normal”, but the things I didn’t care about stayed, and the things I wanted to hold on to, left. All I could do was pat his back as he sobbed into my shoulder and feel guilty that I was one of the changing things, leaving in less than two weeks when he might really need me now. I know he’d tell me not to feel guilty and that I should go, and I was, but I felt guilty nonetheless.

The last thing we had to grab was my aloe vera and desert rose, which Hanuman would take care of while I was gone. I drove him back to his place and went back to mine to wait for sailing that evening.

My mother called me at one point, which did make me panic. Was dad laying in a hospital bed dying? I texted him and he texted me back about an hour later, assuring me he was fine. Ok, so she is just violating the police instruction for no reason. If she did it again I would block her and deal with the consequences later.

Sailing flew by that evening – nothing much exciting happened. We were slightly light on crew and I was tacking and jibing by myself. Chris wanted the jib sheet right in and about two-thirds of the way through the night I had to ask someone to turn the crank for me, because I was at risk of being too tired to be any use for Saturday’s race.

We docked around 7:30 and I jumped off the boat quickly. It was Jake’s last night in Thunder Bay and we had made plans to go bowling, which I had been hankering for since I moved here! I ran home, changed, and drove over.

My heart sank as I pulled into the parking lot. This bowling alley was attached to the Harley Davidson’s dealership. I bet a lot of bikers come here to drink.

Once I located Jeremy, Jake and Rob inside, it was decided we’d go to the attached bar and get some food while we waited for Kevin2 and Heidi to arrive. While we were waiting, Rob commented on a motorcycle ride for cancer or something that was posted on the bar top. I razzed him about the fact he obviously wasn’t a biker before giving him the advice I’d gotten about how to get his license. He probably made a good chunk of money cuz he works at one of the mines, and it wouldn’t take him long to buy a bike. Then we can crash together!

Me and Rob decided to share another platter of appetizers. Apparently it was ‘fishbowl Fridays’ at the bar, which means you can upgrade the drink from one ounce of alcohol to 3. I said no, but it seems the bartender misheard me, because when I went back to order a second drink she asked me if I wanted another fishbowl.

Oops.

Well, I’ve already had too much alcohol to drive then, why not go for broke.

As I waited at the bar for my drink to be made, I noticed a single biker in colours seated at the bar. He had a tag on for Schreiber.

Schreiber has an MC? Really? They have like a thousand people living there! Also who’s couch are you crashing on, cuz it was far too late to drive back through moose territory.

The bartender came around at that point and apologized to everyone for being short with us. She was by herself for some reason and stressing about it. We assured her we hadn’t taken it personally.

After Heidi and Kevin2 showed up, we went to the other side and played a couple of games. For some reason the bowling alley is glow-in-the-dark, because obviously what you need after you’ve had several beers and are carrying a heavy ball is to be unable to see your feet in the ultraviolet lighting. I played terribly, not helped by the quantity of alcohol and my rubber arms from hauling on the jib sheet, but I was more interested in just hanging out than winning anyway.

Jeremy got a turkey, which means he got three strikes in a row!

When we finally had to call it a night, Kevin2 offered to drive my car home and Heidi would come to grab him in his car, so we did that. Both nights they’d only had juice. No drunk driving! Luke would never forgive me.

All in all, an excellent birthday!

…..

…

I wondered if the Vagabond texted me for my birthday, to discover I had blocked him. I sort of hope he has. I hope it cut him deeply if he did.

I watched the sequel Trilogy for the first time shortly before I met him, curiously. When they came out I was in the middle of chemo and I just never got around to it. Rich reminded me to watch them.

When it got to the part when Kylo kills Snoke and offers Rey his hand, I commented to Rich; “I’m not strong enough. If I were her, I would have said yes”. Just to belong. Just to feel like someone cared. Not knowing my own personal Kylo was just around the corner.

Except he left.

I debated texting my mother back to ask her if she even knew what my name was. Because I’m willing to bet neither her nor dad will use my actual, legal name to address me.

Instead I deleted her texts.

Your daughter is gone. She was weak and foolish, so I destroyed her.

I’ll make my own destiny.