The Cabin by Landon Beach

Author:Landon Beach [Beach, Landon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-22T22:00:00+00:00

15

SUNDAY, JULY 2, 2006

Cal and Iggi paddled their kayaks along Lake Ontario’s southern coast. They were fifty yards offshore and had been heading east for the past hour. Cal watched as Iggi’s powerful arms drove the paddle through the water on the starboard side, propelling the craft forward and to port. Then, he lifted the paddle out of the water and brought it down the port side, and the kayak’s bow went to starboard. The steady sculling rhythm—starboard, port, starboard, and port again—kept the boat on a straight course. Cal’s arms were starting to tire. For as out of shape as Iggi was around the midsection, he was definitely in better kayaking shape than Cal. However, Cal would not be the one to call for a break. Twenty minutes ago, he had asked Iggi about his workout routine, and Iggi had replied with, ‘Workout routine? What workout routine? The only exercise I get is from kayaking, bowling, and sex. Period.’

Cal mimicked Iggi’s routine, and his kayak cut through the water with ease and paralleled Iggi’s from perhaps ten yards away. There hadn’t been much conversation. Every now and then, Iggi would point to a beach mansion on the shore. There was a Hollywood tycoon’s summer house, a Buffalo Bills back-up quarterback’s lake house, a New York Senator’s five-thousand square foot weekend retreat, and an author’s beachfront writing cabin. Cal figured that his entire house would fit in the garage of one of these mansions.

He paused from paddling, letting the boat glide as he checked his watch. It was 10:30, and the sun was starting to heat up the day. He watched as Iggi dipped a small bucket in the lake and then dumped it over his own head. The steady sweat running down Cal’s neck had turned the collar of his gray t-shirt dark. He cupped his right hand and scooped out a handful of water and splashed it against his face.

“Feel like a break?” Iggi said.

“Works for me,” said Cal.

They put their paddles down, and each man took out a large bottle of Gatorade. There were still a few cubes of ice that rattled around in Cal’s bottle as he tipped it back and let the cold liquid quench his thirst. The waves were less than a foot and nothing more than a gentle nudge every cycle. Cal swallowed and put the cap back on his drink; he still had half a bottle left for the trip back. He peered over the side, and the sun gave him a clear view of the sandy bottom, perhaps fifteen feet below. There were no fish or other objects visible, just cold, beautiful water that, further out, deepened into darkness. He lifted his head and looked over at Iggi, who was still chugging from his own Gatorade bottle. Maybe twenty yards seaward of Iggi, the water turned dark blue. A power boat cut the waves in the distance.

After they had all enjoyed a late breakfast of eggs, bacon, waffles, toast, and coffee, Cal had been surprised when Iggi invited him to go kayaking.

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