Illya was sitting opposite Napoleon watching his partner sail his beloved Pursang. It was a beautiful late Spring day and they were spending it on the Long Island Sound sailing from the marina in Manhasset Bay to the Pursang's new mooring in the Bayside Marina.
When Napoleon had mentioned moving the Pursang and his desire for Illya to accompany him, he had been loath to go at first, citing his propensity for seasickness. Napoleon had assured him the water would be very calm due to light winds and he had been correct. There was barely a cloud in the sky and the temperature was warm enough for a lightweight jacket to be sufficient. He could see the shoreline and that steadied him.
Moving his boat from Nassau County to the New York City borough of Queens had been a dream of Napoleon's for a while; it would definitely save him travel time having it that much closer to home. Illya smiled to himself remembering how excited Napoleon had sounded when he called to say a space had opened up and he was sailing there Saturday morning.
Putting his full attention back on his partner, he saw how relaxed he was as he expertly handled the till and kept the Pursang's point of sail on a beam reach which Illya appreciated because it was the least upsetting for his stomach and equilibrium. Napoleon was wearing cream-colored slacks, a navy-blue polo shirt and a captain's hat pushed back so that his forelock, which had fallen away from its normal well-groomed place, moved languidly about his forehead.
He recalled a conversation he had had with Napoleon some time ago during which Napoleon had told him that the reason he never invited any of his romantic liaisons onto his boat is that they would see too much of him. At the time, he hadn't completely understood what Napoleon meant, but looking at him now, seeing him completely at ease, so open, face relaxed and exuding a sense of peace, he thought he understood better now. Napoleon was a charmer who presented as a very social, open book of a man, but that was a well-crafted façade. This was the real Napoleon. He felt a sense of pride and happiness that Napoleon trusted their partnership and bond enough to show Illya who he really is and to include him when he was in his natural element where no one else was welcome or allowed.
Napoleon turned the boat (Illya remembered it was called "tacking") and the sails switched from one side of the boat to catch the wind on the other so that the Pursang headed left into its new home. Napoleon dropped the sails and expertly pulled alongside the mooring. After attaching the sheets (He had told Illya there are no ropes on boats) to the buoy, he began to put "his girl" to bed. He declined Illya's offer to help and cheerfully secured the sails before sounding his air horn to alert the marina staff to send out the skiff so they could return to shore.
As they waited for it to arrive, Napoleon looked at Illya and said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For coming with me. For knowing I wanted company, but not conversation. I find the quiet soothing."
Illya smiled broadly. "You are welcome. If you could get the weather to cooperate more often, I might come more often."
Napoleon nodded as he looked around the marina with the Cross Island Parkway on one side and Nassau County on the other. It was a beautiful spot, maybe even more so than his former marina. As the small motorboat approached, he said, so softly Illya barely heard it, "I love sailing."