I’d estimated 5 miles and maybe 10 minutes before the black ... okay ... extremely dark gray storm wall hit us.Mostly, I forgot about storms and what they do to the wind. Okay ... so I was worried about other things ... the closer the storm got ... Yikes! The wind went from dead ahead to dead astern ... I was no longer steering into the wind... Flint was pushed into the storm wall. The waterspouts (tornados) were lashing back and forth like a passel of rattlers in a snake-ball and two of the three were directly in front of us. Water twisters slinging hips like belly-dancers and one slung right, the other slung left and we sailed between and it was raining like nobody’s business.I believe I’d mentioned that I lost my diction in times of stress. Who boy Howdy! I didn’t even understand me.The wind was howling, waves at 20 or so feet, black as night, raindrops the size of baseballs and not even one little bit of fun.And it stopped. Ahead was calm clear light blue water maybe 30 feet. ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Bradshaw,’ she said in English. She still had a fresh-off-the-boat accent, but her grammar and vocalbulary were near-perfect. An unexpected benefit of her love. And it was love – not some stupid schoolgirl crush. She had found the gaijin handsome from her first day of high school, and over the year she learned of his sense of humour, his compassion, his obvious intelligence, and fell deeply in love. He was her ideal man, really. Sakura had left Mr. Bradshaw a love letter in second year, in faltering but very explicit English, and handed it in between the sheets of her homework. He had never responded to it in any way. At first she was crushed, sure it was a rejection because she was ugly or irritating. Sure, it was against the rules to sleep with your students, but why would you fly halfway around the world to teach English unless you wanted to score with some young, nubile Japanese girls? He must be sleeping with the prettier girls, and had no time to fit.
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