After a night of hardcore whiskey abuse, Katrina and I had somehow navigated my 2001 Chevy Trailblazer through thirty-three miles of pouring rain up t...e dirt-road to her house. Parked thirty feet from the door, we sat in silence, considering the storm.“Not worth it,” I muttered, nestling into the upholstery. She shook me a bit harder than necessary. “Come on, my bed’s too cold for just one person.” Katrina often spoke this way to me, despite the fact that we were not intimate. She was the type. And that lovely piece of sculpture on the foredeck must be Grace."Grace stood and waved and jiggled and bounced. "Hi boys." Follow us in," the man with the bullhorn said. "Grace, put on summer whites. You, too, David."So I followed them in ... I tried to get lost but it didn't work."We can toss you a line if you can't keep up." And the whole deck gang laughed.Grace came out in her whites and suddenly there was a whole lot of saluting going on. She took the wheel and I went below. I came up in. More

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