He considered forgiving her. Somehow he couldn’t do it. What she had done harmed only a material thing. But the thing mattered to him. Mattered a lot. That’s what she couldn’t understand.
What was this thing? It was a fishing kayak. He loved fishing and kayaking. He’d taken a second job and saved the extra income for two years to buy it. It wasn’t a $500 inflatable kayak. No, it was a single seat high-end carbon fiber kayak. It cut through the water so cleanly it was almost as if the water were air.
He’d enjoyed only three trips in his new kayak before they had a big fight. She wanted them to go to a concert of her favorite band. The drive there would take five hours. The band meant nothing to him. His plans were for a day on the water fishing in his kayak.
“This is the only time Summer Sound has been anywhere near here. Who knows if they’ll be back? You can go kayaking any time.”
“You like that band. I don’t. Go with one of your girlfriends.”
“None of them like long drives. If you were a decent boyfriend, you’d go to make me happy.”
“If you were a decent girlfriend, you wouldn’t try to guilt me into going.”
She decided to solve the problem, not just for that day, but permanently. She sunk the kayak. It floated downstream and disappeared.
When he couldn’t find it, he filed a police report. He congratulated himself for buying an insurance policy covering theft, enabling him to replace it with an identical boat.
He told the cops she’d taken it. Lacking evidence, no arrest was made. He never spoke to her again.
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