Waving Not Drowning

It's a long walk up the property back to the kitchen from the boathouse. Adam feels every step pulling on the back of his calves. Ten years they've been here, long enough for the cottage to become their second home. He never saw himself as a guy with a cottage. A guy with a rich wife, 2 kids, a summer home, a winter chalet and four luxury vehicles. But here he is. For now. The divorce is finalized in October. It's been a long time coming. Caroline separated years ago. Separate vacations, separate beds. Separate bank accounts. Hard blow to his ego, being a secondary bread winner. Intoxicating at first, being well tended. Having a sugar momma. Meant he could write all day. Play his guitar, do yoga, make movies. Then the kids. The shift in focus. Work dropped off and suddenly he's Mr Mom. No more all night jam sessions, spontaneous dates with Geoff and Gord. Or Caroline. There are expectations that come with marrying money. Accountability. Towing the party line. Commitment...

Dimitri can't pick up the smoked salmon canapé from the long skinny ceramic tray. His hands, meaty thick paws covered in scars, calloused and worn, are ungainly. Functional, strong, weathered but not fit for delicate hors d'oeuvres. Standing on brushed granite stone floors imported from the other side of the world, a long sleeve of microbrewed beer in one hand, a napkin of sugarcane shrimp in the other. Rogerio, Vlad and Justin awkwardly socialize with the gang of tradesmen representing at least 15 different cultures and countries. A thank you gathering for the workers who put together this monstrosity of a house, all 4000 square feet of custom designed opulence. Still an empty shell, yet to be filled with furniture and art and life, it's lines are bold. Clean, angular, severe. No curverd space, no soft edges. Sharp, purposed. Windows from floor to ceiling overlooking what will surely become a meticulously manicured back acreage falling deliberately into the preserved ravin...