“Barb! Listen up! You might not think you’ll go to the boats when you grow up, but life has a funny way of not working out the way you planned.”
She turned to him with an obviously fake look of rapt attention. “Yes, daddy. Turn left at the big smokestack and aim for…?”
He sighed and closed his eyes a moment. That girl’s gonna come to a bad end, mark my words, he thought. But Rick was taking it all in, and he was more likely to take to the boats anyway. At least he would do his daddy - and the granddaddy he was named for - proud.
“Head straight between those two little ones, see there? This part of the dogleg follows an old railroad, so you know there’s no shorter smokestacks hiding under the surface to punch a hole in your hull. Then, oh about two lengths beyond the twins – that’s what we call those two stacks, Rick, the twins – you make a turn back to starboard and go pretty much straight east. You’ll know when you pass the old coastline, the water turns black, and there aren’t any little eddies swirling around. Then you’re home free.”
Barb had gone back to leaning over the side, her thoughts obviously a million miles away. He didn’t know what he was going to do with that girl. Why couldn’t she be more like the grandmother she was named for? Wallace's mother had been calm, competent, dutiful, and a hard worker. But little Barb had tired early on of "Gramma Barbara’s" stories of past glory, much preferring to listen to her great-aunt Jenna’s stories of her wild and rebellious youth, before the polar ice caps had melted.
He tried again. One more time, he told himself, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time he’d try, even though each time he said it, he pretended that it would be.
“Living in this half-drowned world isn’t easy, girl. Nobody could have predicted the ice would go so fast. Even then, it wasn't the water so much as the disease and starvation that killed people. And the riots. And make no mistake," he shook his finger at her sternly, "there are still folks around who’d rather take what you’ve got than make it for themselves."
Wallace saw the glazed look in Barb's eyes, knew he wasn't getting through any better this time than he had any other time. But he struggled gamely on to the end of his well-worn lecture. "Those that were left just had to suck it up, and do whatever it took to get by. Your gramma and grampa did it, your mom and me did it, pretty soon it'll be your turn. You'll have to give it all you got and maybe you'll get by, maybe. But it ain't gonna be easy, girl." He shook his head sadly as he saw that Barb had stopped even pretending to listen.
Wallace finished in a mutter, half to himself. "It’s hard work.”
***
Should you want to read any more momentos (including this one), they can be found on my blog.