Kaatje then took a few dozen of Laurie: sitting on a cushion, standing on the deck, acting like she was going to jump off the boat and, of course, holding the wheel. A sense of real melancholy descended on Laurie as she thought about the end of the day. Being with Kaatje had seemed like meeting a new kid in the park when she was young. Someone you clicked with, who thought you were funny. Someone who knew what kinds of games you liked and fit right in without asking a bunch of questions. But in the back of your head you knew you’d never see the kid again. It was fun because you could be anyone you wanted to be, but it was all too brief. And when you got home you had to get back into the “you” that everyone knew. “Now we can relax and wait for the sun to set,” Kaatje said. “I think I’ll set the anchor. Want a drink?” “Sure. What do you have?” “Name it.” Kaatje went to the bow, opened a small door in the deck, took out some sort of device and pressed a button. The anchor shot off the bow and splashed noisily into the water.
