West of the Quator

by Cheryl Bartlam DuBois

  Sydney just looked at her as if she must be mad, “You don’t really expect me to go there?!” howled Sydney on the brink of hysteria. “It’s that or burst,” reasoned Alex matter of factly.

  “Sydney, go ahead and do what Alex says, I’m certain these gentlemen,” Rob said referring to the other now curious voyeurs, “Will turn their heads to give you some privacy.” Of course, this only served to peak their interest even more as they all turned to stare in Sydney’s direction.

  Another hour went by until Sydney couldn’t hold it another moment and she relented, squatting behind the mattress in utter humiliation as she relieved herself as quickly as possible. “I’ll never forgive you for this,” cried Sydney rambling on to Rob, through the bars as he lay on his bunk, finding himself once again staring at the ceiling wishing there was something to stare at. However, this time rather than thinking of finding Paradise, he was running through his mind, all the possible ways in which to loose Paradise. In fact, he was wondering if this wouldn’t be the end of his search for that illusive thing called happiness that he had set out to find oh so many weeks ago. He was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t simply doomed to a life of social service to Sydney, instead of a life filled with excitement, fulfillment, happiness, and the freedom to live his life as he chose. He lay there trying to convince himself of his innocence – trying not to hear what Sydney was ranting on about. He wasn’t certain which he wanted to escape more, that five by eight foot cell he was laying in, or his impending prison married to Sydney.

  The next day came and went and Rob and his crew remained incarcerated without anyone on the outside aware of their predicament, which was still status-quo and awaiting word from Curacao. However, Sydney’s father, Mr. Corandini, concerned that his daughter had not placed her daily check-in call for two days, began to call out the militia – starting with the U.S. Coast Guard, the French navy and every private rescue service he could find for a five hundred mile radius around Antigua. When that proved fruitless he turned to telephoning every immigration official, hospital, and harbor master of every island between Antigua and St. Maarten. It wasn’t until the forth morning of their stay in jail, that the St. Maarten harbor master tore himself away from Carnival long enough to return Mr. Corandini’s call, informing him that his daughter had indeed arrived in the port of Philipsburg and was presently incarcerated along with the rest of the Island Fever crew for possession of drugs.

  Of course, by now, Sydney was in a state of near delirium and was babbling on and on as if she were talking to her hairdresser or her manicurist about her torn cuticles and split ends. Rob was more than a little concerned at this point as was Alex, and they begged the guard in charge for a doctor to be sent to tend to her. Of course, not only did they not see it as an emergency but the official prison doctor was also off duty for Carnival and wouldn’t be back until, like the judges, next week.

  Thanks to his financial where-with-all, and the fact that graft and payola had thrived on the island for centuries, in only a matter of hours of discovering the whereabouts of his precious daughter, Sydney’s father had landed at the St. Maarten airport in his private jet, bought his daughter’s way out of jail, and swept her off the island – leaving behind the rest of the ship’s crew to fend for themselves. Sydney’s lack of concern for leaving her fiancee behind bars, was to say the least, the act of a cold-hearted bitch. The fact of which Alex was quick to point out to Rob. Alas, fate had intervened and saved Alex the ugly job of convincing Rob to cut his losses and run. However, Sydney did promise to place a call to Fritz, Rob’s charter agent, and inform him of Rob’s predicament. It wasn’t until then that Rob started to panic since he was concerned that Sydney would either not remember to call, or conveniently forget in order to spite him for getting her into this situation in the first place. Aside from the fact that Mr. Corandini swore he would see Rob rot in jail for what he’d done to his daughter. Until then he had tried to be strong in order to make Sydney feel secure that he had the situation under control. But in light of Sydney’s desertion, Rob was starting to crack.

  “And this is the woman I wanted to marry?” said Rob to no one in particular, astounded that his dear Sydney would do such a thing. “What was I thinking? I must have been so caught up in the image of the perfect couple, that I couldn’t see it right in front of my face. How could I miss the fact that this woman has a heart the relative temperature of a reptile. How could a woman that I’ve been engaged to for six years just desert me at a time like this. Like some criminal?! How could she do this, how could she just leave me here like this?!” lamented Rob over and over, amazed that the woman whom he’d plan to spend the rest of his life with would simply desert him in his hour of need with no regard whatsoever for his freedom. “But that’s a women for you, running off the minute things don’t go exactly the way they want them to. She’s left me to rot here in jail for Christ’s sake. The least she could have done was to try and convince them we’re innocent. I mean, her father’s rich enough to buy the Goddamn island let alone our way out of jail. What if she doesn’t call Fritz? What if she just forgets – no one will ever even know we’re here. We’ll just rot away in this hell hole!”

  For the next twelve hours a disconsolate Rob poured out his heart to Raymond who listened attentively but seldom responded with anything more than a yeah or a nod, except for an occasional rhetorical observation of what was obvious from the start – to everyone but Rob. Even Raymond, who never had a bad word to say about anyone, admitted that Sydney was a royal pain in the ass and hardly worth getting torn up over. “After all, sometimes it takes some bad shit to get to know someone.” As usual, Raymond spoke infrequently but when he did it generally contained an profuse amount of wisdom.

  Alex, who was immensely relieved that Sydney was no longer sharing that five by eight foot cell with her, actually began to feel sorry for Rob and finally decided to give it her best effort to offer up a sympathetic ear, and she hoped, some constructive advise.

  “Well, what can you really expect from a woman who is more concerned about the condition of her nails than world peace?” offered Alex in an valiant attempt to cheer Rob up, knowing all too well that there was nothing more humiliating than finding out that the object of your love was an unworthy recipient.

  “You know,” continued Alex, “I’ve never understood the attraction men have for women who’ve had ninety percent of their bodies repaired, lifted, modified, or customized. I mean, would you knowingly buy a car that had been rebuilt with parts that weren’t supplied by the original manufacturer? Who knows how long they’re going to last. And the upkeep must be outrageous. It’s kind of like buying re-treads instead of Goodyear. I mean, what happens when you have a blow out? You can’t exactly change it on the side of the road.”

  This somehow actually succeeded in raising a faint glimmer of a smile at the corners of Rob’s mouth. “Actually, I had taken out an extended warranty on her,” attempted Rob with a straight face.

  It took some of Alex’s best jokes to actually get that full fledged boyish laugh out of him some time in the wee hours of the morning. For the next three days and nights Rob and Alex talked through the bars, quickly renewing their friendship and realizing, with a measure of consternation, that there was an undeniable attraction between them. And I – well I just sat back and enjoyed watching the magic build between them.

  Rob stared at Alex surprised at the immense frustration he felt at not being able to even touch her. “Look at her sitting there,” he thought. “Just look at her… totally natural and wholesome wearing an old T-shirt and shorts and she’s still prettier than Sydney with all of her make-up and clothes. Strange, sitting here looking at her, she reminds me a little of Julie Anne. I guess I didn’t really notice before,” Rob mused. “I’ve never noticed how sexy she is underneath that strong front she puts on, but then I guess she has to. After all, she is doing a man’s job. Who would take her seriously if she behaved feminine and helpless like Sydney. If I could only
touch her. Just a brush of her arm against mine would be enough… feel her hair on my face.”

  He wondered what her lips would taste like… sweat like nectar – salty like the sea she sailed on. His desire at that moment to kiss her was dire – more so than even his desire for freedom. Locked away in a prison in Alex’s arms would be far from the worst punishment a man could endure. But, locked up only three feet away from her was torture of the worst kind.

  “Making love to her would be better,” Rob thought, “But a simple kiss would do for now… if only. But she’s not interested in me that way,” reasoned Rob. “She’s only being nice to me now to try and cheer me up and pass the time without going stir crazy.”

  Rob was beginning to wonder if he really knew himself – knew what he wanted. How could he have been so wrong about Sydney – spent so many years with her catering to her every need? Rob wondered if he’d really ever made love to Sydney. Had he simply fucked her as a function of the relationship – his daily accountability to her. The more he thought about it, sex with her was never like it had been with Julie Ann. Granted, he and Julie Ann had only had one short summer to grow bored with it since they had remained virgins until they’d graduated. Rob had finally had the nerve to loose his virginity to her on the beach graduation weekend. It had been perfect – she had been perfect – as perfect as anyone’s first time could be. Rob wasn’t certain which of them had been more scared as they fumbled with each other’s clothing on the blanket that night under the stars. The rest of that summer they had worked to hone their lovemaking to a fine skill. Then September came and it was time for Rob to leave for school – leaving Julie Anne to Dirk’s offensive tactics as he swooped right in there to claim the ball the moment that Rob had left the field. Thinking it over now, Rob pondered that maybe Julie Ann hadn’t ever really loved him the way he had loved her. Otherwise, could she have pledged her loyalty so easily to Dirk’s team?

  Alex stared at Rob, who appeared deep in thought, and wondered, “How is it I’m sitting here talking to the guy who only weeks ago was the bane of my life and now all I really want to do is take him in my arms and hold him. Maybe Sydney hasn’t ruined him yet,” she wished hopefully. “Is it possible that there’s still some passion left in him after being with her all this time. I bet he could be a lot of fun once I really got him to loosen up. In fact, I imagine that he might even be a decent lover with a little practice,” Alex mused optimistically. “But he’s still in love with her,” she warned herself. “I can see right through him. Even though he’s trying to pretend he’s finished with her. Watch… the minute he’s out he’ll probably run right to the phone to beg her forgiveness and he won’t even remember I exist.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Freedom

  “Freedom is just another word for

  nothing left to lose.”

  Janis Joplin

  K. Kristofferson/F. Foster

  Finally, on the morning of their eighth day inside, Fritz arrived, and within hours had managed to obtain the lab results from Curacao regarding the contraband in question. It seemed the immigration officials had indeed made a grave error in judgment regarding their dubious confiscation of Rob’s supposed stash. It was in fact only sage tea, as Raymond had maintained, for which they had just spent the last week in jail. Hence, hoping to avoid an utterly embarrassing situation, the police and immigration officials wasted no time in releasing Rob and his crew before the island judges returned to laugh them right out of the courtroom.

  Now Fritz, to say the least, was agitated that Rob had missed his charter, however considering the circumstances which were out of Rob’s control, Fritz agreed that if Rob could have the Island Fever back in Antigua, charter license or not, and provisioned and ready for charter in two days, he would have another booking for him. He even allowed Rob to keep the first deposit and told him to apply it to the new charter. Antigua is only ninety-two miles from St. Maarten – only ninety-two miles ‘dead to weather.’ Once again the only direction towards which a sailboat cannot achieve forward propulsion. Due to their self-generated apparent wind,1* catamarans are known to have trouble pointing close to the wind. However, they are also known to more than make up in speed, the distance that they loose in trying to beat to weather. By Fritz’s calculations, Rob should have no trouble getting there on time, or so he thought. So, Rob gave his word that they would be there no matter what – come rain or shine. “Only a hurricane could keep me from picking up that charter two days from now,” promised Rob defiantly.

  Fritz looked at him a moment then shook his head, “Even though it’s only the first week of July, and it’s too soon for hurricanes, with the way your luck’s going, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Alex had gone ahead to get the boat released, while Rob filled out all the paperwork for their release. Luckily, the police officials involved were so embarrassed about their faux pas that they had even agreed to destroy all record of their ever having been in jail in the first place. And, while Rob was finishing up, Raymond had gone off to find a taxi to take them to buy provisions, since with the passing week, their provi-sions from Antigua would no longer fall into the category of ‘fresh.’

  Leaving that dark, dank jail cell and entering the world of the living again as he walked out into the hot balmy breeze and the blinding sunshine, Rob felt as if he’d just received a new lease on life. He had managed to rid himself of a huge amount of excess baggage, and felt lighter than he’d ever felt in his life. Oddly, it felt like someone else’s life, not the old one that he’d left behind when he’d entered that jail cell eight days ago. He suddenly had a whole new appreciation for his meager existence – especially for his freedom. To different people the word ‘freedom’ meant different things, but Rob was just beginning to understand all of the implications of the term ‘to be free.’ Since of course, Rob was now a free man in more ways than one. He was a single, free man to be exact – a state of being quite new to Rob. After all it had been years since he had been without a girlfriend, or without Sydney to be specific. ‘Life Without Sydney,’ now that was a somewhat intriguing new chapter in Rob’s life. And Rob was feeling quite inspired by the concept at that point, and by the last few days he had just spent getting to know Alex in jail. Not to mention, the start of his new journey to find true love once again. That was if he could keep his heart beating at home in his chest – he’d actually felt the slight pitter-patter of it in jail with Alex. Maybe, just maybe, it had decided come home for a visit. Suddenly, the essence of true love struck Rob like a lightening bolt. Freedom – that’s what it meant. True love didn’t have to rob you of freedom. On the contrary – it freed you to open your heart and dive in to explore its depths, and be free in knowing that there was another being inhabiting this physical existence to share one’s freedom with.

  Carnival was still underway as Rob stood there on Front Street breathing in the fresh air and watching as the frenzied islanders paraded through the streets in their brightly plumed costumes and body paint, now in their eighth day of drunken debauchery. Of course, the island had run out of rum two days prior, but there was still a plentiful supply of every other type of libation imaginable since the islands largest import was liquor. After all, it was a duty-free port and every American who stepped foot on its soil couldn’t resist dragging back as many bottles as they were permitted to carry in order to save a few cents on a bottle of the same thing they could buy at their local grocery store back home.

  Rob made his way to the town dock and looked at the harbor for the first time in the daylight. He surveyed the long stretch of curving beach dotted in both directions by little West Indian buildings and taller modern buildings to the north where the beach ran into a shelf of rock extending out to a point where the old fort sat atop the small cliff – to the south were the marinas, where the Island Fever had enjoyed her last eight days of vacation.

  Rob and Alex had decided that in order to expedite their departure from the island that had so kindly exte
nded its hospitality over the last eight days, free-of-charge or so they thought, Alex would go off and ready the boat to sail while Rob set off in a taxi with Raymond to provision the boat at the Supermarche’ on the French side, since the Dutch ‘Food Center’ was temporarily closed due to the island’s ten day celebration.

  Alex had gone off to retrieve the Island Fever which had been impounded at Bubba’s Marina, and for which she was charged an unexpected eight hundred dollar dockage fee before she could reclaim her (one hundred dollars a day for the eight days that she had taken up two slips at the dock). Alex was appalled that they would have the balls to charge an impound fee, especially in light of their grossly mistaken arrest. But she finally realized, that she had really no choice but to come up with the cash since the marina owner could have cared less about the unfortunate blunder made by the immigration officials. He was after all, running a business and if they wanted their boat back, they were just going to have to pay the price. Even Fritz, who had been there earlier, had been unable to convince the owner to do the right thing and let them have their boat back free of charge.

  Rob heard the beeping of a car horn, which shook him out of his reverie, and looked at the wharf to find Raymond waiting for him in a little red car in the town dock parking lot. Getting a taxi had been impossible since no one worked during Carnival, but luckily, Raymond had found a friend from another boat and had managed to borrow his car for a few hours. Now, simply getting out of town was going to be a feat in itself, since the roads were jammed with a sea of colorful undulating bodies which gyrated and swayed to the beat of whatever drummer happened to be within rhythmic proximity. It took the little car an average of ten minutes per block to make it down Front Street to Pondfill Rd., where Raymond astutely took the back road around the saltpond which – normally a five minute drive – took a total of an hour to make it through the smaller parades to the road out of town. Raymond found it necessary to take the long road through the French Quarter to Marigot in order to avoid the dancers who, had formed a human Macarana train over the hill to the airport where, it was rumored, a new shipment of rum as about to land.