by Andrew Grey
He hadn’t felt right since dropping Jamie off at the airport, and he didn’t understand why. At first he thought it was because he was worried for him and had gotten used to having him around, but that wasn’t it. Last night he had stood on the docks, and a pod of dolphins had frolicked just in front of him. He had turned to point it out to Jamie, but of course he was alone. Maybe this was how his father had felt… and maybe still did, about his mom. One thing was for sure, Arty didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. Hell, maybe in some way he was starting to understand his father.
“Arty,” Gerald said, pulling him back to the present.
“Sorry.”
“I was saying that I need to get back to the plant.” He stood. “You won’t say anything…?” he whispered, and Arty nodded. If he had to use a little fear and even blackmail to get Gerald to behave like a human being, then so be it. The guy had been a real shit back in high school, and it didn’t look like he’d changed very much at all.
Arty finished his coffee and figured it was time to go back to work. He had things he wanted to get done that morning, and they weren’t going to get finished if he sat on his butt.
“HOW ARE things going now?” Arty asked Jamie that evening.
“I have an appointment for pictures, and Margaret has someone giving me a haircut tomorrow. She also wants me to get some new clothes, but Ryan is going to help me out there. We talked about him designing clothes for men instead of women, and he’s come up with some wonderful designs, so he’s making me some things to wear.” He sounded a little more in control than he had been the last time they talked.
“That’s really good.”
“How are things there? Did you get a good crew?”
“Lyle and Katherine are going out with me again, and I found a fourth person. Everything is going to be fine on this end. I just need Dad to get better.” This was taking longer than he’d ever hoped. “Maybe I’ll be ready to come back in a few weeks.” Three, maybe four, was reasonable. “Will you be okay until then?” He only hoped he would be.
“Yes. I asked about a job today at Chico’s. They wanted a server to work evenings, so I applied. They seemed interested when I told them I had waited tables before. The man asked me a bunch of questions, and I answered them all, so maybe I’ll get lucky.” Things seemed to be happening for Jamie, but Arty just felt like he was spinning his wheels… and doing a lot of waiting.
“That’s really good and….” Arty’s voice broke. “I really miss you, Jamie.” He held his head and tried to keep his headache and heartache at bay, but nothing worked. With his dad’s reinjury and Jamie being gone, he felt alone and his world looked flat. “When you were here, everything was bearable. I looked forward to getting up in the morning because I got to see you. Now… there’s nothing.” He knew he was in love with Jamie, but he wasn’t going to tell him that over the phone. That seemed like a cop-out and wasn’t fair… to either of them.
“I miss you too.” He heard the same loneliness in Jamie’s voice coming back to him. “Arty… I more than miss you. This is so new and nothing at all like where I grew up. And Ryan is helpful and nice… but he isn’t you.” He grew quiet, and Arty clutched his phone, wishing he could make Jamie feel better. Hell, he wanted to feel better… he wanted to be there. Arty closed his eyes, and he could almost imagine himself there, holding Jamie in his arms and telling him all the things he wanted him to know. Maybe he could get up the courage to tell Jamie that he loved him. “But you’ll be here soon… right?”
The longing in Jamie’s voice tore at him. Arty knew just how far New York was from Iowa, and the culture shock had to be bone jarring. “As soon as I can. I promise. Coming back to New York and seeing you is what’s keeping me going right now.” He took a deep breath.
“Me too. You do what you have to for your dad and then come here. I have things I want to tell you, but I can’t say them over the phone.” Jamie sniffed, and then the line was quiet. “I’m going to be better once you get here.”
Arty pulled himself together and stopped the phone from shaking against his ear.
“Are you getting used to the city?” He needed to talk about something else, just to keep himself together.
Jamie didn’t answer right away. “It’s so loud all the time. Even at night with the windows closed and the curtains pulled, I can still hear everything outside. It’s strange, but I think I’m getting used to it. I don’t hear as much as I did at first. Ryan showed me around the neighborhood. He’s really nice.” Arty was grateful to Ryan, but he was also a little jealous. He wanted to be the one to help Jamie over these bumps and worries.
“Ryan is a special person with a kind soul. He’d be mad if I told you this, but he needs someone to take care of him too. So watch out for him a little.”
“I see that. Ryan watches out for everyone else.” He should have known that Jamie would understand right away.
“Yup, but not himself so much. Anyway, have you figured out the subway yet? It’s the easiest way to get around that isn’t going to cost you a fortune.” Arty wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, going through the list of things he’d come up with to try to help Jamie. “For your appointments, make sure you leave early and give yourself plenty of time to get there. The people that Margaret set up to help you will report back to her if things don’t work out.” God, he remembered being late for an appointment and having Margaret chew him out big-time over it. She could be helpful as well as the dragon lady when she wanted to be.
“I think I’m all set. I know the route, and Ryan told me what time to leave.” Jamie cleared his throat, and his voice sounded more like he had things under control, with little of the nerves from their previous call.
“Is that his sewing machine in the background?” Arty asked.
“Yeah. He’s been working to make me something special, and he brought home some designer samples for me to take to the photo session. I know this is important, and I hope it will all work out.”
Arty hoped so. “What I think is that you’ll take really good pictures and that you’ll also be able to let people see Ryan’s designs whenever you show them your book. There are a lot of people out there with talent, and half the time, it’s simply a matter of you having… or not having, the look the director or casting coordinator is looking for.” He smiled. “Just relax, and try to take things one step at a time. There’s a lot of activity at first, but then it’s plenty of waiting—waiting for auditions, then waiting for callbacks. You wait even longer to find out if you actually got the part.” God, he remembered those calls to say he had gotten the job. Well, as soon as he got back, Arty was going to be back pounding the pavement for auditions. Maybe after some time away things would improve for him.
“Of course. I’ll do my best,” Jamie said.
“I know you will. I have faith in you.” Arty smiled and carried the phone into the kitchen with him, getting out the dishes that Mrs. Marshall had brought over. He peeked inside and then slid them into the oven. He and his dad were lucky that Mrs. Marshall was an amazing cook. He warmed up the potatoes and the sliced pork. “I better go so I can get Dad some dinner.” He was already tired. “I… miss you.” Once again it was as close to the words in his heart as he dared say.
“I miss you too,” Jamie said and grew quiet. Arty wiped his eyes with his fingers and tried not to sigh. “You have a good night and I’ll talk to you soon,” Jamie added hurriedly, then hung up. Arty felt the loss as soon as his voice was gone. If he was talking to Jamie, then he could pretend that he was still here, at least for a little while. Arty made a small salad for himself and dinner for his dad, then set the table. Once the food was hot, he called his dad, who came in using one crutch and sat down, immediately turning on the television. It was becoming a ritual, and with nothing else to do, Arty found himself watching whatever was on as they ate in near silence. As soon as he was done, he took care of his dishes and put the rest of the food away, leaving his father alone to finish his dinner
and watch television.
He went out the front door to the road, walking toward the water and the docks. Maybe one of these nights he should borrow his dad’s car and take a drive out onto Longboat Key just for something different to do. But tonight he climbed on the boat and sat in the back, looking at the dark expanse of water.
“Sort of intoxicating, isn’t it?” Katherine said from the dock, and Arty waved her onto the boat. “I don’t think I could live anywhere else. Once that gets in your soul….”
“It’s only water, and sometimes it smells like dead shit,” Arty retorted.
“What crawled up your butt and died?” Katherine asked. Arty shook his head and sighed. “Where’s Jamie?”
“In New York. His father was determined to come here and get him. We were going to go to New York together anyway, so I sent him on ahead. Now I’m wondering if that was such a good idea.”
“Because he’s unhappy there?” Katherine asked, and Arty shrugged. “Or are you the one who’s unhappy because Jamie’s gone?” He nodded. “I see. You aren’t going to be here forever, you know. You’ll go home soon enough.”
“I know. But with him here, I could bear this place. There was someone to show around and do things with. Someone….” He didn’t want to go too far into what he said. “I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I visit Dad sometimes, but now it feels like I’ve stepped into his life so I can keep him going, and put my own life on hold. I know I’m doing the right thing.” He stood, went down below, and returned with a couple of beers from the refrigerator, then handed her one. “Is it wrong to want my life back?”
“You could just go and be done with it.”
“No, I can’t. Dad needs me. Not that he would ever tell me that he appreciates what I’m doing.” He popped open the beer and took a swig.
“Are you doing all this for the accolades? That doesn’t seem like you.”
“No, I’m not. But my dad talked with Jamie more than he did with me. I have no idea what he thinks about anything. If something’s wrong, he gets upset, but otherwise, he says nothing at all.”
She opened her beer, but didn’t drink. “Maybe he doesn’t know what to say to you.” She held his gaze and then drank from the bottle. “He could also be one of those people who, when things are fine, feels that there’s nothing to say. My dad was like that. He would tell you when you were wrong, but otherwise he was happy just to leave me be.”
“I don’t know. Dad’s getting older, and I don’t know what he plans to do. Is he going to fish for the rest of his life? Jamie left because his dad is hell-bent on him taking over the farm in Iowa. Dad says nothing about me taking over the boat and his quota.”
Katherine shook her head. “Are you dumb? My guess is that your dad wants a better life for you than this. Fishing today is one of the last vestiges of subsistence. Fishermen are almost like the peasants of old. That may be extreme, but they’re dependent on the weather and the whims of the market, and beholden to someone to finance what they do. And they go down when there’s no catch, like your dad almost did.”
“He gave me a good life,” Arty said.
“But you left,” Katherine countered. “Not that I blame you, but maybe that’s what your dad wanted. Not for you to leave, but to go out and find your own place. God, I don’t know. I’m only grateful I date women and don’t have to deal with this shit.” She flashed a smile, and Arty rolled his eyes. “If you want my advice—which is free, so you get what you pay for—let your dad be. You can’t teach old dogs like him any new tricks, and he is the person he is. Expecting him to be someone else is only going to give you an ulcer.” She took another drink of the beer. “God, I love it out here on the water.”
“Is that why you never moved too far away?” Arty asked.
“Pretty much. I like it here and I have a good life. After a couple more runs and when you leave and my sabbatical is over, I’ll go back to teaching.” She smiled and lightly patted the table.
“How did I never know that was what you did?” Arty asked, setting his bottle aside as he sat up.
“You didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer. Not that it mattered. I needed some time to get away from books and students and get in touch with my roots once again. I have a book that I’m working on and it hasn’t been going well, so I thought a change of scenery would help. It turned out to be awesome. The words are flowing again.” She tipped back the bottle.
“What do you teach?”
“Medieval history.” She grinned. “So I know what I’m talking about.”
“I guess you do.” Arty sat back once again and relaxed. Katherine was right—it was nice out here near the water.
ARTY CALLED Jamie that evening before bed, and they talked again. He did the same each day, right up until he was scheduled to set sail. Then, with the boat ready and a good crew, he pulled away from the dock in the early hours of the morning, quickly passing out of cell signal range and away from most communication. Life on the boat required plenty of work, and Arty was grateful for it. It kept his mind on the task at hand and off of Jamie and what he was doing.
The days were easy because they were all busy. The nights were a completely different matter. The boat was quiet, and Arty lay in his bed, thinking of Jamie and wondering what he was doing and if things were going well for him. The days passed slowly, with some days of great fishing and others where they couldn’t catch anything to save their lives. It only added to the frustration that built inside Arty each day they were out. Finally, after long hours and some luck, they filled the boxes and headed back to port.
“Are we in a rush?” Katherine asked once Arty had set the course.
“It’s been nearly two weeks, and some of the fish have been on ice for nine days. I think we had better make sure everything is well packed and get back as quickly as we can. Thankfully, it hasn’t been too hot, but the heat is starting to build.” He powered up the boat and sped along the water. It didn’t matter that he was so tired he could barely stand up. He hadn’t slept well for much of the trip.
“Fine. I can follow the course. You go down and get some rest before you get sick.” She glared at him, and Lyle echoed her sentiment. Arty didn’t fight them and climbed down into the cabin. The small area was already muggy, so he cracked open one of the small windows to create a breeze and climbed into bed. To his surprise, he fell asleep almost instantly.
Arty woke hot and sweaty. The engines still hummed and it was dark. His shorts and T-shirt were soaked, and his mouth was bone-dry. He got out of bed intending to change, but every muscle in his body protested. Still, Arty drank some water and took a couple of Tylenol from his kit and went up on deck.
His legs were unsteady, and he held on as he climbed. Katherine was behind the wheel, and the other two hands were nearby. “Is everything okay?” he asked and started to cough. Great, getting sick was the last thing he needed.
“We’re fine. Drink something and go back to bed.” Katherine pressed a bottle of water into his hands and shooed him back into the cabin. He changed his clothes and removed the blanket that was damp, then climbed onto the bed again and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he went from hot to shivering cold, and he pulled the blanket over him, curling under it as he shivered. Eventually he warmed up again and the medication kicked in. Arty slept restlessly for a while, waking as the others came in and left.
He didn’t want to move and felt somewhat better after sleeping. Katherine brought him some juice at some point. He drank it and went back to sleep, trusting that she was able to bring the boat in.
Arty was completely wrung out by the time they made port the following afternoon. He tried to get up to unload their catch, but he was too weak, and Katherine didn’t let him anywhere near their cargo. He did sign for what was delivered, and then Katherine maneuvered the boat to the dock. Arty managed to muster enough strength to get off the boat with his things and down to the house. He dropped his bag on the floor of his room before crashing in h
is own bed with a soft sigh.
He lost track of time as he slept. “Drink. You need to drink.” It was his dad’s voice, but one he hadn’t heard in a long time. Arty didn’t have a chance to think about it. That took too much energy. Instead he drank, swallowed, and then coughed before drinking again. He probably should have been grateful he wasn’t throwing up, because he didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. “Have some more. You need to finish the glass.” Arty did and then lay back down.
“Thanks, Dad,” Arty whispered hoarsely as a hand pressed to his forehead.
“You feel cooler.” His dad left the room and returned with a cool towel and some pills. Arty took them and groaned at the cool towel, which felt wonderful. “Just rest, and I’ll get you up in a few hours for some soup.” Arty closed his eyes, falling back into his disjointed dreams of Jamie lost in New York and Arty unable to find him, no matter what he did. Finally, after thrashing for a while, Arty was able to locate him, and his mind settled into a deep sleep that felt restful.
He woke with a start to a banging. “He isn’t here,” he heard his father say. Arty swung his legs over the side of the bed and lifted himself up. He didn’t inhale too deeply because the entire room smelled stale and sickly. Arty pulled on a robe and opened the door, letting fresh air inside. He needed a shower and then maybe some food.