S.S. Ryan Abbott

When I was just a girl, way back when the old creek by Jemma’s farm looked more like a river, there lived a family in the rundown yellow house next to the market. And I don’t know if I ever told you, but Pa and Ma didn’t move us down to this place until I turned seventeen. I grew up in the small blue house that faced the farm- the one the Justice family lives in. Of course, back then, the house was much smaller. Mr. Justice added the extra room for their daughters, but I’m getting ahead of myself. That meant that the family in the yellow house and I, well, we were practically neighbors.

I was a curious kid. Ma called me nosey. I guess she was right, cause as soon as I saw that big ol’ truck driving down my street, you best believe I followed it right to the driveway. A little red Ford Mustang led the truck, and was first to stop just before the garage. I watched from the fence as the family hopped out of the car. An older dark-skinned woman with long, black hair in braids, neatly tied into a bun that fit perfectly on the back of her head stepped out first. She was chatting to someone I couldn’t see so well on the other side of the car.

Though, that didn’t matter much, because as soon as the backseat door opened, I could feel my heart skip a beat. A young girl, just about my age, with short coily hair, wearing a pink sundress dotted in red strawberries, jumped to the ground and raced around the car. She looked just as energetic as I was at the time, running around from the truck to the house, trying to tell her daddy something about the windows- or at least that was what she had been pointing at. And that was the moment I knew I had a new best friend.

Not many kids lived on my street at the time. At least, not many my age. Lisa was down the street, but she was a teenager, and I didn’t want to bother her with my childish games. I was smart enough to know that she had enough of me whenever she was babysitting. I was too wild for Ma and Pa to keep up with, and at the time, Jackson was just a baby! So there wasn’t much I could do with him. I was excited. So excited that I raced home to tell Pa all about it.

I managed to convince them that we needed to bake something for the new neighbors, even though we had never done it before. Just a day later we were at the yellow house with a decorative plate of chocolate chip cookies. I had on my favorite green shirt and the long, purple skirt that my grandma made me. Did I ever tell you that she knew how to sew too? I learned it from her, you know. Anyway- I wanted to make a good impression. I knew I could be a little intense sometimes, so for the first minute, I let Ma do all the talking. I stood up straight, maintained my smile, and patiently waited for the little girl to come to the door.

But you know how nine year olds are. Not so good at being patient, are they? Like your brother. Boy, he’s a chatterbox. I ended up interrupting Ma and Mrs. Ryan, which wasn’t very polite of me, and probably not the best first impression, but I just couldn’t wait. I asked her if she had a daughter. Of course, I already knew she did, but Mrs. Ryan said yes and called upstairs for Muna. That was her name. Muna Ryan. Have you ever heard something so pretty in your life?

Muna walked downstairs with a Barbie in hand, and that was the first topic of conversation. I had quite the Barbie collection as a young girl. It’s so easy to make friends with someone when you’re that little, and that kind of friendship is one of a kind. You’re too young to be embarrassed, really. Too young to focus on how you look and how you talk. You’re not anxious about it yet. Not scared to mess it up. I remember getting older- how hard it was. Muna and I liked to pretend we were pirates sailing the seven seas. The playground over on Grove Avenue was our ship, and anyone who was there that day would be on our crew. Those who would play with us.

We called it the S.S Ryan Abbott. Ryan for her, and Abbott was my last name before your grandfather, if you can imagine. We spent so much time there that I grew to consider the S.S Ryan Abbott like a second home, and we barely thought of it as a playground after the name. That platform the red slide is on was our main deck, with the smaller one underneath being our storage area. The cannons came out through there. Across the rope bridge that connected that platform to the one with the green slide. Even still, I see it so clearly. I suppose that green slide is gone now though, huh? Didn't they find a bee’s nest in it? Nasty thing.

But growing up, I thought about it a lot. Our ship. How we pretended together. How we laughed. Our greatest treasures were handfuls of pebbles and mulch back then, and we would guard them with our lives. Of course, it’s all just childish imagination. Kids having fun. But- it was fun. And when you’re in high school, you can’t ask the people in your class to be part of your pirate crew. They’ll say no. They’ll laugh at you. No matter how badly you want to play pirates. Teenagers are mean like that.

Not to say that things aren’t fun once you reach high school, I don’t wanna scare you. They’re fun. But playing pirate is a special kind of fun. Especially playing pirate with someone like her.

Muna and I played pirates for a few years after that. She was always the captain. I pretended like I wanted to be captain sometimes, just to whine about it. But really? I didn’t care one bit. Muna was a creative kid, and a mighty fine captain. She pretended, once, that we had wrecked onto some secret island, and we found a long lost treasure. We would run to and from the creek by Jemma’s farm with shiny, slippery rocks in our hands. Sometimes we would pick flowers and send them down with the current, pretending that we were hiding our treasure. A few times, she pretended that we were battling other pirates, and she would convince others to join the mix. We never really decided what we were battling for, but it was fun.

Once, we saw a Kraken. Now, I had no idea what a Kraken was before Muna. And I’ve got to be honest, even after all these years, I’m still not entirely sure. I know, I know, nowadays we have these little pocket computers, and I can just look up anything I’d like. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. All I know is that it was big. It destroyed our ship, and we spent years putting it back together again. Well, years in the game. It was more like twenty minutes or so.

Of course, we ended up killing the creature, because it was our game of pretend, and we always won. And I know, I know, that the big ol’ Kraken wasn’t real, and it was just the two of us throwing mulch at the ground and pretending they were spears. I know there wasn’t any real danger, or any real prize to be won. But that game was exhilarating, and I remember feeling proud when it was all over. It was one of our last.

When Muna was twelve and I was eleven, she came up to me quietly and took me down to the creek. And it scared me. Not because Muna was scary, but because Muna was always so loud. She was always joking and laughing. When we met up, hardly a second went by before she was showing me something, or starting another game of pretend. Muna always had something to say, or somewhere to go. When she smiled, it felt like the sun was shining a little bit brighter that day, and nothing could be wrong. And she smiled- she always did- but her smile wasn’t wide. It looked sad. It looked defeated. It looked like a goodbye. I had pieced it all together before we even got to the creek. Muna was saying goodbye.

I think I was holding back tears as she told me, though I can’t quite remember. I was sad, but I wanted her to think I was strong and brave. She told me that her mommy was sick, and she was leaving with her parents to go live in the city, with her grandmother on her mom’s side. I understood, of course. All the best hospitals were there. But I was devastated. I was losing my captain. I was losing my best friend.

Muna and I talked for what seemed like forever. I think it was the first time we ever sat down and talked about the important things. Like, what we wanted to be when we grew up. How difficult it was to be young. What our parents were like behind closed doors. We lost track of time- neither of us had watches or fancy phones or anything like that. Just the sun. And even as it was going down, all Muna and I could do was sit and talk to each other. It wasn’t like it was the last conversation we were ever going to have, but it felt like it. It felt like the last time we would ever get to tell each other how much we meant to each other, and how much we needed each other.

We fell asleep near that creek, cuddled up in each other’s arms. And when we woke up and walked to our houses, our parents were furious. We were grounded, of course. Muna a bit longer than I, but even that was just a week and a half. It was a different time. If you pulled that stunt, I don’t think your mama would ever let you back out of the house, but Muna and I? We were back at the S.S Ryan Abbott as soon as we were able to be.

But something changed. We pretended less. We talked more. We traded the slides for conversations on the swings, and instead of gathering rocks at the creek, we learned how to string together flower chains. We still loved pirates. Sometimes, we talked about what our lives would be like if we lived together on the sea. We decided we would have a cat on deck named Sandy, and we would be good pirates. Robin Hood types, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. That was if Robin Hood ever decided to become a pirate. Muna was going to take the hook hand, and I would take the peg leg, and we would travel the world together. She even made a list of all the places we’d go. She took it with her when she left, about a week after she made it.

It was two days before she was about to leave when she took me to walk alongside the creek. She said that she wanted to see how far it ran before she went. It was like that first long conversation all over again. Muna was quiet and thoughtful that day. We talked about things like moving and school and growing up. We talked about pirates. The sun started to set again, but this time, Muna and I knew better than to stay out all too late. We didn’t make it to the end of the creek, but we had made it further than either of us had gone before, so walking back didn’t feel disappointing. And we were still talking.

We talked until we saw the S.S Ryan Abbott again. The playground. Muna and I stopped. From where we were, it seemed so small. It seemed like any normal playground. The sky was beautiful that night, with pinks and purples and oranges that all melted together into a rich blue that showed the earliest stars. I remember staring at it for a while, wondering what would happen next, right before Muna looked at me, eyes shiny and lips downturned. I hugged her before she could say anything, and it lasted forever. It was warmer than my own Ma’s hugs, too.

And when we looked at each other again, I kissed her. Maybe she kissed me. I can’t really remember how it happened. But I can remember what it felt like, even if it's not something I can describe so well. I expected to be shocked, and after it was over, I wondered why I wasn't so shocked, because we had never talked about things like that. Like kissing or romance or boys or even girls. It felt like the kiss came out of nowhere, or it should have felt like that. Instead, it felt like I had done it a thousand times before. It felt… I just felt…

Well, I don't know.

I can remember how it ended too. It wasn’t really more than a peck on the lips, and it didn't last longer than two seconds. We were young, and that’s how you kiss when you’re young. It's the kiss your mama gives you on your forehead when it's time for bed, or the one your daddy puts on your knee after you've skinned it, just a tad longer. You don’t know any other way. But it was enough to know that she was going to miss me. And I knew I was going to miss her, of course. I was sure of it before she kissed me. But after? I was gonna miss her a whole ‘nother way now.

When I got home, I cried. Of course, I said goodnight to her. We hugged again and she smiled at me, and the next two days, we were together in the park. All the way up until she left. It wasn’t like we had left on bad terms, or kissing her was a mistake. In fact, I had wanted to do it again. I was just too afraid to. And then, she was gone. It took me until I was sixteen to kiss someone again. Which is still too young, don’t get any ideas!

But-

I still think about Muna. More than I thought I would. I think about her even now, after so many years. I wonder how she’s doing. I wonder, if she never moved, where we would be. I believe we would still be friends, or I hope. Maybe we could have been something more. Maybe when we were older. I wonder if we would have traveled the world together, like we both planned to. I wonder if she still has that list. Oh, I don’t regret your grandfather, or your mom, or your aunt or uncles. They led me to you. And your brother, the little chatterbox.

Speaking of, we still have an hour or two before your mama comes to pick you two up, don’t we? Why don’t you grab your brother and grandad? We’ll head over to the S.S Ryan Abbott, and I’ll show you the ropes. We could all benefit from a day at sea, yeah? Maybe we’ll see one of those creatures- a Kraken. Wouldn’t that be exciting?