Changes:
All American Part XVIII of a novel in many parts
by Roger Vaughan Previously: The year is 1988. Andy Thomas made an ill-advised tactical call during a race in 50foot sailboats that nearly caused a dangerous collision. His father, Mitchell (at the helm), was livid. Later, at the awards dinner, a drunken Andy delivered a public declaration that made it virtually impossible for Mitchell Thomas, a well-known amateur sailor, not to mount a Round the World Race challenge. Okay, you know the rest, but if you missed anything or need a refresher, go to www.tidewatertimes.com (writers, Roger Vaughan), where you can find all previous chapters. ***
A
ndy was stretched out on his bunk, drifting in a semiconscious state as a result of some crazy drug Sargent had said would relax him. It had relaxed him, all right. Knocked him right out. He’d gotten the fax several hours ago, and it was still a bolt out of the blue. Deedee was dead. Not much else. The message
was in formal language, like a lawyer had written it. Signed by Mitch. Deedee had “passed away peacefully” in her sleep. Period. Died? Really?! My mother? Andy had been stunned, devastated, then enraged by the cold tone of the note, an electronic message sent to her son who was f loating around on a boat a thousand miles from nowhere, already detached from social reality, in limbo. Andy had never quite gotten used to the remoteness of being on board a small boat in the open ocean. The impossibility to respond to a dire circumstance, the inability to get somewhere when he was needed, had turned remoteness into frustration resembling torture. First the Mountain View debacle, now this, Deedee, his mother, the only real foundation in his otherwise untethered life. His mother who really loved him. Gone. He knew she wasn’t in great shape. He knew she had given in to what seemed to him like minor ailments, and, okay, she was an alcoholic, but hell, a well-paced, functional alcoholic,
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