+{Noah's Starship}+
-+-[July]-+-
"Noah! I take that!" Navid took the bag from me as we walked across the steamy cement to the boat landing. He kissed my forehead as he slid the bag from my fingers. I'd taken it from the backseat of his car as he made his way around to open my door. It was my way of showing I didn't need him treating me like a damsel. He seemed slightly annoyed at my gesture.
"We will be on water for a few hours so please go to pee here now," He said as we paused by a set of public restrooms. I followed him inside and he pointed towards the private stalls, but I joined him at the urinals along the wall which had little dividers between them.
"You prefer to use these?" he asked with surprise.
"Yeah, I'm... a guy," I said softly. It was awkward peeing next to him. We hadn't done that before. He kept his eyes on me and it made it difficult at first. I started to wish I had gone inside one of the stalls, but finally I was able to start as he was shaking off the last of his.
"You suck on your lip when you piss," he noted with that smile that said I fascinated him.
"I do? I guess it helps me concentrate when a hot guy is staring at me," I smiled and tried to look away.
We were the last to arrive to the small boat that was kind of like a long table surrounded by a U-shaped bench along the insides of a white shell with a white covering over it. It was filled with 10 guys; some that I recognized and others that I didn't.
The sun was setting over Alamitos Bay as the cool, Pacific breeze swept in. Aram and Bashir were seated on the end of one side and they jumped up with smiles to let us slide in. Navid went in next to another Persian looking guy I didn't know and then pulled me in close to his side as he greeted the other men on the boat. Aram squeezed in next to me and said something to Navid without acknowledging me.
I was starting to get used to being a silent guest among a group of Persian men. I didn't feel unwelcome and always jumped at the chance to be under Navid's arm, but they didn't speak in English to accommodate me. I was not their equal.
Navid always looked over to check on me every few minutes, but never apologized for me being left out. This was how things were done in his culture. Sometimes it was just a winking smile and other times he would whisper something sweet in English or offer me a game on his phone. He never said it, but he made it clear he expected me to only communicate with him. It was how things were done. I was not part of the group, but belonged to him.
I watched the seabirds swoon down to check out something on the dock and then fly off in uniform urgency as the group of men buzzed on in what sounded like a raucous set of jokes. An older, hispanic man in a tight polo shirt that held in his ample gut as it spilled over his waistline came aboard then and asked if we were all here.
He gave us a speech about boat safety and showed Bashir how to work the wheel and accelerate. He pointed out the life preservers packed neatly under our seats and then did a quick lecture about drinking responsibly on the water. He showed us a timer that would beep when we we had fifteen minutes to bring the boat back, and then untied us from the dock and got off. He pushed out boat out into the open water and waved goodbye.
Bashir navigated us through the small canals of Naples as the two other non-Persian guys on the boat arose and began to unpack the food. The table soon filled with trays of bakery items, meats, side dishes, and desserts. It hit me that I was non-Persian as well and I tugged at Navid's shirt and asked if I should help them. Was serving something the silent partners did?
"No, my princess, we are guests of this group." Navid whispered to me. He swiped a finger under my chin and looked at me with a smile like I'd just done or said something unbearably cute. He had started calling me princess. It bothered me somewhat because I am definitely a male with no plans to change that. But I didn't want to do anything that could change that look of adoration he gave me when he said it. Maybe over time he would move on to another nickname.
And so I sat there under his arm as the non-Persians worked and the other men carried on in conversation. They weren't that old, maybe 30-ish. One was white and the other was kind of white-hispanic looking. They definitely looked gay and had trim bodies that looked like a routine of gym, salon, and shopping. They wore semi-preppy older guy attire; polo shirts tucked into chino shorts with nice belts. Each was attached to an older Persian man, one looked almost 50 but in terrific shape.
Navid and I, along with Aram, Bashir and two other guys, were the younger generation on the boat. Then there were the two mixed-raced couples and then another two unattached Persian guys who looked to be mid-30's.
I watched the sun set behind the tightly-packed million-dollar townhouses that lined the canals as they came alive with parties for the evening. We passed other boats like ours, mostly upper-income looking families and one boat loaded with old gays. It was so beautiful to be there under Navid's arm, his hand rubbing my forearm as plates were passed and food was served.
Navid took his arm away as he reached for the stack of plastic plates. He only took one though and then passed it on to Aram on my other side. He lifted off the bench to load the plate with meats, rice and some weird looking bread pocket things. He grabbed a fork and napkin and then settled in with his plate.
"I don't have a plate. Do I wait until you finish? I don't know how this works," I whispered to Navid; thinking he had forgotten me.
"You are my younger one. I feed you. It is how we do this. The stronger one feeds the weaker." He turned to me with soft eyes and scooped up some rice.
I started to ask what he meant by that, but I already knew. He thought of me as "the weaker." I guess compared to him, I was. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't weak and could eat on my own. But every time I had a thought like that, my need for him overrode it. Sometimes the heart is stronger than the brain; love beats pride.
"Do you know what any of this is, Noah?" He asked with a laugh.
"No, but I'm kinda hungry," I frowned.
"I will guide you through it then. You will like it. Lot of new meat for you to try. I show you how to enjoy." Navid winked at me.
"You are my meat sherpa?" I tried to make a joke.
"What's this mean?" he scrunched up his nose at me.
"Sherpa. It was in a story I read. They are like people in the mountains who know dangerous areas and get paid to lead people through them safely," I explained and realized it wasn't as funny as it had sounded in my head.
He thought about that for a minute and then shook his head in approval.
"How much you pay me for services of sherpa? This is not done for free, no?" he lifted a forkful of something that smelled really good and looked like a yellowish rice.
