In the fading light of his basement, wood met blades, hammers, and nails. His rough hands caressed the boat's smooth bow, stained with red wine. He slowly moves to the starboard, not quite done, still in need of sanding. He takes the sander in his hands and loses himself in the memories, though he'd always blame it on the bourbon.
*
He hadn't even bothered to take off his shoes or his jacket. He had just dumped his school bag on the couch and raced to the shed behind the house. Inside, was the oyster's pearl, the best of the best, the boat he and Dad had been building for the past three months, just in time for his mother's birthday.
Dad had talked to him before, about how Mom was sick and how they needed to make the time they had very special, and he had heard the fights and screaming and crying at night. Yet somehow, the boat was magic. It made his troubles go, and he suspected one ride across the river would make his parents okay again too.
'Leroy, c'mere. We're gonna try to get this thing out of the shed, now. You take that end and-', Jackson Gibbs was interrupted by his wife, shouting from inside the house. 'Leroy, get back in here and clean up the mess you've made. You're almost a man and you still expect me to clean up for you?'
He groaned. He was sick of cleaning. The teacher had made him clean at school. He'd cleaned the windows of dad's store before coming home, and hadn't even gotten candy for it. Besides, he wanted to finish the boat and have it perfect, docking off the lake, so it could work its magic.
'It's your house! You should be cleaning it!', he shouted back, instantly angry and ashamed. He ran inside, past the boat and Mom, to his room, where he holed up in the closet, sneaking out of his window to go to school in the morning.
After that, the boat lost its touch. The shed's door was always shut, as if a dangerous secret was held inside. The gold dust that had temporarily settled in his world blew away, and he spent most nights alone on the couch, as Dad drove back and forth from the hospital.
On one sunny Saturday morning, he was awakened by rays of sunshine coming through the grimy blinds. They were beautiful, but it took only as much time for his eyes to adjust as it did for him to remember. The cruel world where good people die and bad guys live for eternity is nothing but beautiful.
He had last night's meatloaf for breakfast, trying not to cringe at the taste. The phone rung, that one thing that dared disturb him. 'Hello, is this Mr. Jackson Gibbs?', asks the voice on the other side. He deepens his own voice and sighs. 'Yep.' 'Mr. Gibbs, I'm very sorry to inform you, your wife passed away early this-' He's already dropped the phone. He finds some matches in the kitchen drawer and races outside again. This time, he will destroy the enemy.
The sirens ring out and flames engulf the shed, a shower of brilliance, a tribute to the most special woman in his life.
*
He leans against the Unity, now, the name that Abby had given his latest boat. Unity, because no matter where his family is, they are all still united, by bonds blood can never break or touch. He hopes he will never have the reason to burn this one.