Waiting for Larry

The first time I met Larry was on the field trip in South Africa. My colleague, Brian, better known as "Professor Hayes", had arranged for all his final year Marine Biology students to travel to Knysna on the Cape coast to collect data for their first hands-on research project. Larry's wealthy father had agreed to let us use his boat for 'a little bit of educational fun,' as he called it. So, there we were, all eighteen of us, waiting for Larry.

Outside the Knysna Yacht Club, the Cape sky was turning an angry grey - not uncommon for that time of year on the Southern tip of Africa. Through the sliding doors that led out onto the clubhouse patio I could see the bridled yachts, restlessly tugging at their reins as the wind began to tousle the surface of the lagoon. The tide was receding, and minute by minute the reed-covered sand banks rose higher, dark humps in the white crested water.

Beside me Brian moved impatiently. He looked first at his bulky deep-sea diving watch, then at the door, and then at me. "Where the hell is he?" He growled. "We were supposed to leave here at high tide. We have work to do. And you," he continued, turning from me and gesturing vaguely towards the group of students, "have research projects to complete."

The group of students around us began to whisper, and a stifled giggle escaped from the brassy red-head at the back of the group. Brian began to twitch, and then to fidget with his watch. I knew that he was becoming more and more irritated as the minutes ticked by. "Poor Larry." I thought, "He's in trouble." 

My job on the trip was part tutor, part assistant, and part mother hen. I always seemed to end up in the role of peacemaker, sometimes acting as a go-between for Brian and the students, and sometimes just acting as a general shoulder to cry on when hearts got broken or egos got bruised. I was a doctoral student and assistant to the quick-tempered professor. At twenty-five, I was closer in age to the students than to Brian. Strictly speaking, I was a university staff member. The students called me "Miss Marsh", and this made me feel old, although I was only three or four years older than most of them. 

Now in every group of students, I had learned, there was always one difficult case, and this year it was Larry. I felt a bit protective of this slightly rebellious but perceptive young man who always seemed to be in trouble one way or another. At 22 years old, Larry was tall and rangy, with a sensitive mouth in contrast with his square jaw. His hair was a mass of sandy curls that completely defied the comb. I liked him. He was moody, and at times he sulked like a spoiled schoolboy, but I liked him anyway because he always made me laugh. He had a powerful frame, and when he walked, he looked like a Great Dane puppy - big and strong, but not yet quite in control of that loping strength. The personal fortune of his back-slapping, yacht-clubbing father seemed to embarrass him, singling him out from the crowd he longed to fit in with.

Time was ticking by, and I stared absently out of the wide bay windows at the lagoon. The tide was almost halfway out. Finally, I heard the unmistakable din of Larry's bright green Jeep roaring up the wharf and screeching to a halt outside the clubhouse. I glanced at Brian. Brian’s jaw was twitching, and that was never a good sign. The hum of conversation stopped short as Larry strode in through the door, and Brian shattered the peace of the mild winter afternoon. "Where the hell have you been?" He exploded. "We should have been out of here hours ago! High Tide! High tide has been and gone! And you call yourself a Marine Biology major?"

I saw the red begin to creep into Larry's cheeks and his body stiffened as if biting back a strong retort. "Brian" I whispered, intervening. "I'm sure that Larry has a reason, if you hear him out." "Well, it's too late now!" Brian stormed. "Now we can’t start a damn thing until tomorrow. Another night in those god-awful leaking university tents! Just because it's your father’s boat, Larry, do you think that you are captain of this ship?" That was the last straw for Larry. He turned, and gathering the last shreds of his dignity about him, stalked from the clubhouse.

"Oh no, not again." moaned Brian, subsiding into an exasperated heap amongst the oxygen tanks. He looked beseechingly at me. "Do something. Anything. He'll listen to you. We can't do a bloody thing without his father's bloody boat."

One look at the pleading faces of the students, and I zipped up my hoodie, and headed out into the blustery afternoon. The wind seemed to be gathering force. Head down, I followed Larry up the dock. Larry was striding determinedly towards the boat at the end of the pier. Perhaps he intended to sleep there, rather than face his fellow students again that day.

As I reached the end of the jetty I saw Larry leaning dejectedly against the mast of "The Mercurius". His hands were thrust into his pockets; his windbreaker zipped up to his chin, and his defiant curls blowing wildly in the wind. He saw me approaching, but he didn't move. He deliberately ignored me as I moved along the creaking jetty and clambered on board. I pulled my collar up and sat down on the hatch. There was silence except for the lonely clanging of a rope flapping against the mast.

Larry shuffled in his jacket and looked away, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. Around the boat the mist had drawn its curtains. "Larry." I said, "Brian was wrong. He should have listened to what you had to say before he blew up like that." Larry looked down and shrugged. "You know what he's like." I added, "He has a quick temper."

"I don't want to talk about it." said Larry. There was silence again as he cut me out.

"OK." I said softly.

The rain began to fall, gently at first, as it does in Knysna. The waves were higher, and the boat began to heave from side to side. The mist had thickened and now, we couldn't even see the clubhouse. The masts of the yachts made ghostly outlines in the monotones around us. The rain began to fall harder. I stood up, and lifting the hatch, lowered myself into the warm bowels of the boat. "Come on." I said teasingly, "It's bad enough to see you so cross. We wouldn't want to see you both soaked and cross now, would we?" My teasing didn't work. He shrugged again, and followed me moodily down the ladder.

We sat in silence, face to face and hunch-shouldered on the narrow bunks of one of the below-deck cabins as the boat rocked beneath us. Our knees were touching. Eventually Larry turned to face me.

"Miss Marsh, I had a good reason for being late. I stopped off at the Coastguard to double check the weather forecast. There’s a huge storm brewing. Coastguard said we shouldn't risk it. So I stayed and had a cup of coffee with him. I couldn’t get a signal on my phone so I couldn’t call. Professor Hayes shouldn't have gone off at me like that. So what? It is my father's boat, but I can't help it that he's rich. He didn't have to rub my face in it, especially not in front of everyone like that."

"You're absolutely right" I agreed, "You did the responsible thing. Professor should curb his temper. He is such a hothead. But don't let it spoil your trip.” Larry shoulders relaxed a little and he met my gaze. “You're really are an awful sight when you're mad." I added.  For a moment Larry's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile, then he began to laugh. "I suppose I am an awful sight when I’m mad." he said, reaching across the gap between us and taking my hands in his. 

His hands were big and warm. For a moment my concern for Larry became confused with something else. His eyes touched mine. We were sitting so close that I could smell the musky freshness of his shaving soap. Without warning, he leaned towards me, slowly, and very deliberately, his face almost touching mine. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. I tried to move away, but we were taken off balance as the boat reeled beneath us. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the bunk, the weight of Larry’s thigh on mine, pinning me down. I gasped, and lay still. My compliance was more out of sheer surprise than intent. The boat was lurching from side to side as the storm strengthened outside. Larry's eyes were searching mine, and I knew that he was going to kiss me. I felt a confused mix of sexual heat and horror. The warmth of Larry’s chest penetrated the thin damp cotton of my hoodie. My body wanted to lie back and savor the moment, but my brain screamed “You must stop this now. He's just a baby, and you are his tutor!”

Then he kissed me, not quite a kiss, just the briefest, gentlest brush of his lips on mine. I was taken by surprise by the wanton rush in my belly. He kissed me again, a real and sensuous kiss this time, invading my mouth expertly with a lazy caress. This was no baby. My body refused to move, defying my mind, and melting into his.  I imagined how his hands would feel on my naked skin. I felt so desirable - the older, sexy woman. The kiss ended, but I kept my eyes tightly shut, waiting for more. I shivered with anticipation as his breath tickle-walked my neck. I could hear the carefully controlled intensity of his breathing, but he didn’t kiss me again.

Finally I opened my eyes, and was instantly mortified by my own wicked thoughts. Larry was watching me, studying me closely. I blushed, at a loss for words, pushing the dangerous fantasy from my mind. This time he broke the silence. "Just checking." He said, and flashed me a smile.

"No Larry." I said. “We can’t.’ Too late. My timing was way off. I sounded lame. I sounded embarrassed. Larry didn't protest. He just took my hand in his and kissed it softly. "Not bad, Miss Marsh." I could not even begin to fathom the thoughts hiding in his green eyes. A curious smile crept across his face. He helped me to my feet, his fingers brushing tendrils of hair from my cheeks. Then with new-found confidence, he pulled me in for a hug. "I won't do that again, Miss Marsh – at least, not until after I graduate. But I just needed to know”. His words hung in the air - a fragile promise.

We jogged back to the clubhouse through blinding rain. For the first time in many months I felt young, not just Miss Marsh, professor's assistant, but alive and sexy. In the clubhouse a fire was blazing in the hearth. Someone had taken out a bag of marshmallows that they were attempting to roast impaled on sticks of brushwood. One of the guys was playing a harmonica in the corner. Brian was engrossed in conversation with a scholarship student.

Larry positioned himself in the centre of the room. He cleared his throat. "Ladies and Gentlemen." he announced in his best dramatic voice. Faces turned expectantly towards him. "The trip has been postponed due to the Coastguard's early warning of a terrible storm. Fortunately, as a result of my brilliant foresight, we didn't go out with the tide." The redhead giggled. I felt like giggling, too. Brian looked up and nodded. “Well, I guess that it is not called the Cape of Storms for nothing.” he acknowledged, and then launched back into his conversation.

It is funny how much the weather can change in just thirty minutes. But, for Larry and me, the storm had already come and gone.