The first Sunday of June has always been my favorite day of the year. It’s the Blessing of the Fleet, the day all the little towns peppering the Gulf Coast bid farewell to the shrimping boats and wish them well as they head out for the season.
Boucher’s has a little tent set up where they’re serving corn on the cob and po’boys and frozen daiquiris. But I’m not working today. Tuesday was my last day at the restaurant, and this morning I rode my last paper route. I’m spending the next two weeks soaking up my town and my people before I head off to a new town and maybe even some new people.
Ruthie, Saul, and Hattie are all working the tent. This is Hattie’s first week back at work, which is why I’m wearing Sara Belle on my chest in one of those baby backpack contraption things. Tyler is around here somewhere, and so is his mom. I wave to my dad, who’s having a beer with a few of his friends who still make their living out on the boats. He was able to get us a two-bedroom apartment at a complex that was running a special for people affected by the tornado. The second bedroom is full of both my and Hattie’s things, and it all sits waiting for either one of us should we ever need to come back home.
I wave to Adam, who is in a tent across the way with Pam and Cindy, handing out coupons for the car wash. He gave Ruth Sophia’s phone number so she’d have at least one friend to start with in Hattiesburg. He also wore absolutely nothing under his robes at graduation last week. The plan was for him to streak, but he chickened out at the last minute. Unfortunately for him it turned out to be a very windy day.
The Mississippi sun is relentless as it throbs above us. I tug down on Sara Belle’s white boat hat and hope I slathered her in enough baby sunscreen. She’s fair-skinned like her dad. I don’t know what the future holds for my niece, but I do know that I have yet to see her in the same outfit twice, and I think that’s a good sign.
We duck around behind the tent, and Hattie meets me there.
She hands me a few bottles to put in the baby bag I’m carrying on my shoulder. “Pumped and dumped a little bit ago, so this should hold her over.” She takes Sara’s hat off and kisses her forehead. “How’s Mommy’s little cinnamon roll?”
I bounce a little to stop her from fussing. “Mom is supposed to come by after work,” I say.
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “She said as much the other night.”
Becoming a grandmother didn’t magically transform our mother, but I have noticed an effort that was never there before. She will always say the wrong thing and wear clothes that are too young for her, but part of being family is accepting one another’s flaws with the knowledge that sometimes people never change, and you have to decide what and who you can live with or without.
Hattie runs her fingers through my hair. “I still can’t believe you had the balls to cut your hair without me.”
My hair is mostly ashy blond now. Some people in town don’t even recognize me.
“Oh well. I’ll fix you up real good when I start hair school in September.”
My phone buzzes and I glance down to see a message from Freddie. “Hey, I gotta run,” I say. “I’ll have my phone on me if anything comes up.”
My big sister stands up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
I meet Freddie, Agnes, and Bart out near the docks, and the moment Agnes sees Sara, she melts. “Oh, my sweet girl!” she calls.
I give them all quick hugs hello.
“Ramona Blue,” says Agnes. “I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon.”
I sigh. “It doesn’t feel real.” The swim team at Delgado Community College does an on-campus training camp for a month in the middle of the summer, and then I’ll come home for a few weeks before the fall semester starts.
The last few weeks have been spent filling out financial aid forms and finalizing class schedules. I haven’t quite figured out how I will afford a four-year university or if I even want to go to one, but it seems that I can cover the cost of community college tuition and board with mostly grants and a few loans.
The idea of loans terrifies me, but Coach Pru said it was the only way to cover the gap in tuition until “the government gets their shit together and figures out how to handle the dadgum student loan crisis.”
Once the fall semester starts, I can apply for some jobs. I’m hoping for a change of pace with something like a clothing store or even on campus at the bookstore. Maybe something where I’m not always sweating or smelling like crawfish and oysters.
Agnes pries Sara Belle from me and shoves the baby bag onto Bart. “Y’all go have some fun while two old farts talk gibberish to this little meatball.”
“Okay,” I say reluctantly. “Her milk is in the bag. It’s fresh and if she needs an extra set—”
“We’ll be right here.” Agnes tries to hold back a grin as she points to a shaded picnic bench. “And we’ll be sure to call if anything comes up.”
I nod and watch as they situate themselves at the table.
Freddie tugs on my hand and whispers against my hair, “I miss you already.”
I whip around and give him a quick peck on the cheek.
I’m still trying to figure what I want to call myself. Gay? Bi? Queer? Pansexual? I’m not sure, but I’m going to figure it out as I go along.
Freddie doesn’t leave until the middle of August. I’ll have a few weeks with him after swim camp, but for once, it feels nice to be the one leaving. “You better keep up with your morning workout if you don’t want your ass handed to you when I get back from camp.”
All around us the festival is alive with music and food, and I can’t help but feel proud of my little town. Boats of all sizes line the dock, waiting for their blessing.
I lead Freddie to the other end of the docks, where Father Bell from St. Margaret’s is about to give his blessings. Father Bell, a young, tall white guy who is way too cute to be a priest, wears a short-sleeved black shirt with black slacks and his priest collar. He and Reverend Don from Eulogy Baptist take turns giving the blessing every other year.
The crowd thickens, and once Father Bell approaches the mic, a soft quiet rolls through the festival so that the only sounds left are the soft waves of the ocean and the squawking cry of seagulls.
Several altar boys and girls stand on either side of him carrying crucifixes and one of those gold-vase-looking things holding holy water. He opens a small leather book to a page he’s already bookmarked and begins to read. “Most gracious Lord, who numbered among your apostles the fishermen Peter, Andrew, James, and John, we pray you to consecrate this boat to righteous work in your name. Guide the captain at her helm. So prosper her voyages that an honest living may be made. Watch over her passengers and crew and bring them to a safe return. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit be upon this vessel and all who come aboard, this day and forever. Amen.”
I close my eyes and let my head rest against Freddie’s shoulder. I’ve heard the words of this blessing enough times to know it by heart. But today is different. Today this blessing is mine, and I pray it over myself. I tattoo it to my heart. I am the fleet. I am the vessel. I am the captain.
I stand here with my Wendy Darling as I prepare to do what Peter never could. Freddie takes my hand and pulls it to his lips as he kisses each of my knuckles. We sway back and forth until our rhythm is one with the ocean.
May my voyage be prosperous and my return safe.