chapter  9
12 Pages

The Crossing

WithE. M. Kahn

I could tell Chris was scared, I could see it around his eyes, even through his thick eyeglass lenses. How easily we can read fear in another. How do we know this? Some remnant of our predatory instincts from hunting days on the savannahs? We know danger and we know fear in others. Of course, this trip was supposed to be fun, and here he was, at the helm of a thirty-foot sailboat crossing Buzzards Bay in twenty-five-knot winds with waves sloshing over our bow. There was something going on between us, something about sharing the thrill and danger of rough weather sailing.