Birthdays on the Back Deck

Elena decided the weather was suitable for another barbecue. I am not sure whether she consulted the forecast first or simply informed it what she required. In either case, the afternoon obliged: light wind in the sheltered recreation area, a steady ship, and a sky that improved as the day went on.

There were two crew birthdays to celebrate, which had been grouped together so that people coming off different watches could join when able. This is a ship, not a restaurant with a private function room. Someone is always working. The celebrations therefore arrived in shifts, with plates kept ready and no suggestion that being late because you were navigating the vessel was a social failure.

The menu goes outside

The barbecue was set up in the designated area with the usual attention to things not moving, falling, or catching fire unnecessarily. After this week's drill, I found the practical details more interesting than I used to. I also knew better than to mention my brief hose experience as if it qualified me to supervise anything.

Elena had skewers with a marinade she described as Caribbean, sausages that Kev endorsed without requiring an origin story, corn, vegetables, and a bowl of something cool and sharp that made the grilled meat taste even better. Her menu around the world does not stop merely because we have moved the tables outside. It simply travels with a different sort of plate.

I offered to carry dishes. She gave me a stack and told me where to put them. Clear instructions, a finite task, almost no opportunity to improve it badly. I performed well.

Tiny arrived, looked at the food, and said we could include a barbecue in the imaginary garage specification. I said we had not yet agreed the workshop layout. He said that was because I was wasting space on a car with too few cylinders. An entirely normal conversation to have beneath a Pacific sunset.

The cakes

There was a cake large enough to be cut into actual shared portions. There were candles briefly, safely, and under Elena's direct control. There was singing from the people present, followed later by a smaller second performance for someone who had been on duty. The recipients endured this with considerably more grace than I had managed in July.

Priya noticed me studying the cake.

"You could share this one."

"It is not mine."

"A convenient improvement in your principles."

The key lime pie has become part of the ship's permanent oral history. I suspect that after I leave, new crew will be told of a passenger who was given a one person pie and demonstrated that the description had been accurate.

Elena handed me a slice. I thanked her, found a seat, and ate it without entering negotiations.

After sunset

For a while, the deck felt less like part of a machine and more like a place people lived. Someone told a story about a previous ship. Someone laughed before the ending because they had heard it already. Kev leaned back with his plate and looked unexpectedly peaceful. Beyond the rail the sea kept going, darkening by degrees.

Priya sat beside me for a few minutes before returning to work. She stole a small piece of icing from the edge of my plate with her fork, looked directly at me, and waited.

I let it happen.

"Progress," she said.

I would like it noted that icing is not pie and that my wider position remains unchanged. Nevertheless, it was a very good evening.