by Mark Green
I pushed the plate away and sunk my head down onto the table, supporting it with my crossed arms. How had I been so stupid? I turned and saw KT2. She looked as white as a sheet. I shuffled my chair over to her.
“Thanks,” was all I could manage, my throat was still feeling as though I’d swallowed a red hot poker. I watched KT2 adjust her lifeless eyes towards me. Only this time, they were alive. And angry.
“If you ever treat me like that again, I will leave you. I may be blind, but I’m not a fucking doormat,” she said as she lifted my money belt into view, then tossed it on the floor between us. In her other hand she held her passport.
“I’m looking after this from now on, with my own money and credit card. That way I can walk away anytime I want. And just for the record, you ignoring me makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated. I’m this close to heading home. Mistreat me again and I’m gone.”
I felt my shoulders slump as the effects of the adrenaline shot started to subside. I reached down and picked up the money belt and sheepishly stuffed it into my pocket.
“I’m sorry. I saw you on the arm of that bloke and…”
“I can’t hear you,” she said, not letting me off the hook.
I sighed and lifted my voice above a mumble.
“I got jealous, I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me. I know we have a business arrangement, but it was as though Kate Thornly the 1st was still rubbing my nose in it…”
“By me accepting a guiding hand from the manager who didn’t want a blind person drinking in his bar?”
I stared at her.
“You were being thrown out?”
Now I was the one feeling anger.
“No, I wasn’t. But it’s nice to hear some passion in your voice. You see what difference a bit of mutual respect makes? It makes me feel part of the adventure rather than a pain in the arse you can’t wait to ditch.”
I didn’t have the energy or the right to respond to a dressing-down like that. I dropped my head, exhausted after the trauma.
“What did you eat?” she said at last, breaking a long silence.
“Fish and chips. I fancied a taste of home.”
“Fish in batter, fried in nut oil?” she said.
“It seems likely, don’t you think?” I said, allowing sarcasm to creep into my voice. I glanced over in time to catch a small smile on her lips.
“Unless that’s a special blend of peanut butter beer you’re drinking…”
“They don’t have the brand I like.”
This time she chuckled, shaking her head.
“You silly bastard.”
“Stroppy cow,” I replied.
I started to laugh, more a release of nervous energy than anything, but it felt good to let it go. It had been a very close call and I was lucky KT2 happened to be in the same bar.
“I need a drink. Let me re-phrase that. I owe you a drink KT2.”
I stood, my legs felt like jelly.
“That would be grand. Pint of Guinness. Failing that, large whisky, the best you can find. Or if you’re feeling particularly grateful to be alive, both.”
I couldn’t help smiling at her cheek.
“Don’t just stand there, I’m getting thirsty!”
* *
KT2
Today was a turning point. It’s taken a couple of weeks, but what a difference it’s made.
I’d proved my worth and Jonny finally accepted that he couldn’t do this trip without me.
“There’s something that’s been puzzling me. How did you manage to let the others in the bar know that you could help me? I mean with the language barrier?”
I polished off my pint of Guinness and picked up the whisky glass.
“I took a few Spanish lessons for a trip to Barcelona last summer. But it’s all in the visuals Jonny.”
“So when we leave Argentina and get more off the beaten track, you could be a useful person to have around?”
“Yup. Semi-bilingual and life-saving. Quite an asset I reckon.”
He ‘chinked’ his glass against mine.
“How’s your throat?”
“Very sore. But this has to be the best kind of post-trauma care. I hate hospitals. Seen too many of them over the years and they’ve never been a pleasant experience.”
I nodded, remembering my own spate of visits over the years. I felt myself go cold, the blood draining from my face. Some memories belong buried deep in the past. I shuddered and reached out a shaky hand for the near-empty whisky glass, unable to find it.
“You okay, KT2?”
I felt a warm hand guide mine to the glass which I hurriedly pressed to my lips, determined to extract every last drop.
“Someone just walk over your grave?” he said in a concerned voice.
“A reminder, of darker days. A long time ago,” I said, mentally kicking myself for even acknowledging there was something wrong.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
* *
Me
It was one of those evenings when you seem to lose time. When we rolled out of the bar it had been dark for quite awhile. I’m guessing it was around ten. God knows where the time went. We certainly covered some ground that day. It’s amazing how a near-death experience can transform your outlook on life!
I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. No matter how careful I was with my food, there was always this risk. It was a lot easier to manage in the UK of course, but out here I needed to be extra careful.
The lesson for me to learn (yet again!) was that like it or not, KT2 and I needed each other. No matter how much I might bang on about wanting my own space, out here we were effectively one. We had to be, just to survive each day. A bit melodramatic perhaps, but we were stuck with each other. So I decided I might as well get used to the idea. Anyway, it was a cracking excuse to get absolutely plastered.
My god, I’m rambling. Alcohol does that to me.
* *
KT2
I stood there wondering what I’d forgotten that was stopping me from taking myself off to the toilets.
Where were they? — oh yeah, that would be it.
“I can’t remember the layout in here… can you show me the way please Jonny?”
“Of course. Follow me my lady. I am your knighty in shining armour,” said Jonny, stumbling against the table as he linked his arm in mine. It was difficult to tell who was leaning on the other more. There was the distinct possibility that we may have had too much to drink…
I heard Jonny mutter apologies in slurred pigeon Spanish as we bumped into tables and people on our way to the toilets.
“Don’t mention the war, or Maggie Thatcher…” he whispered to me, which triggered a fit of giggles.
“Through this door, then you’re on your own. For obvious reasons I haven’t checked it out, being the ladies and everything,” said Jonny, swaying against me.
“Right. Are you prepared to come in and rescue me if I haven’t returned in five minutes?”
“Into the ladies? No way! They lynch people here for that sort of thing, don’t they?
“Best use the gents then,” I said, squeezing his arm.
So off we went, through a couple of doors, until I smelt the unmistakable aroma of stale urine. Yuk. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.
“Um, just hang on there a moment KT2, I’d better just sort things out…”
“The toilet seat?”
“Mmm. It’s not good. Two seconds. Okay?”
I heard the toilet roll spinning as he yanked off enough to do the job. I started to relax in the knowledge that within about thirty seconds I’d avoid peeing my pants. But then there was a gruff voice behind us, and we were off, backing away from the disgusting smelling toilet as one of the bar staff shooed us out of the bar. Our jackets were thrust into our hands as the icy blast of air hit my lungs, the door shutting firmly behind us.
Jonny tried not to laugh.
“Can you wait
until we get back to the hotel?”
“Not really, situation critical,” I said, emphasising my plight with a sort of pathetic cross-legged hopping.
“The beach?” he suggested.
* *
Me
Bloody hell it was cold! I stood on the beach near the water’s edge, as far away from the promenade and the streetlights as we could get. Even so it wasn’t quite dark enough, so I held my jacket out to shield KT2 from any passers-by. The wind was freezing, I could feel my nipples rock hard and sore through my shirt.
“Hurry up KT2, or I’ll turn into an ice sculpture!”
“Shh! Stop talking. Can’t go…”
Jesus! I started to dance a jig to try and keep myself warm, relieved to hear a gushing sound that went on for ages.
“Blimey, where did all that come from?”
“I’d already had a few before you decided to try and die on me…”
“Just a couple eh? Jesus it’s cold.”
“You try sticking your privates out in this wind, then you’ll really know how cold it is. Not that there would be much hanging out there in this temperature, I’m sure.”
I pulled a face that of course she couldn’t see. Then at last she stood up, wriggling her hips back into her jeans. I took this as my cue and pulled my jacket away, unintentionally catching a glimpse of her underwear as she zipped up her jeans.
“I think you may have been a bit premature there Jonny. See anything you like or were you just window shopping?” she said, wobbling on her feet before falling over. I hauled her up and we started walking briskly towards the lights and activity of the promenade. But we were stopped short by a dazzling torch light.
Whatever he said to us was fast, loud and in Spanish, obviously. I’m ashamed to say we just giggled as we were frog marched swiftly back to the hotel by a local policeman. He was not a happy chappie. And that’s where my memory fades. I can’t remember walking through the hotel lobby, the stairs to our room, or collapsing into bed, fully clothed.
Eleven
KT2
The last place in the world I wanted to be the next morning was sitting on a bloody boat rolling on the swell looking for whales. It’s not that I’m uninterested in wildlife (despite not being able to see it) but timing has to play a part here, and this wasn’t the best of hangover cures.
Fellow passengers had exchanged pleasantries and it was a nice day, very bright. Spirits on board were high and there was a lot of excitement at seeing the whales in their natural habitat, but Jonny and I were both very quiet. People probably thought we were rude. I expect Jonny was wearing his dark glasses too, so we must have appeared to be ignoring people. Oh well. It was one of the few benefits of losing my sight. What facial expressions I couldn’t see, wouldn’t upset me.
Jonny did his best to describe our surroundings, despite being hung-over. The boat held about a hundred people and was launched from a small beach within a rugged cove. The sand was dark brown and the surrounding landscape faintly lunar. We were now probably a couple of miles off land and the water was choppy and grey.
I felt the boat lurch which caught us off guard. Jonny had been holding onto me, but he’d let go to blow his nose and I tumbled into the person next to me. He was an older chap judging by the tone of voice and posh accent.
“Good grief, watch what you’re doing. Are you blind?”
I apologised, obviously, but he wasn’t in the mood to accept it.
“Is that alcohol on your breath? At this time of the day. Disgraceful!”
He turned away, muttering under his breath, making it difficult to hear any more, except for the word “common.”
“Excuse me, Captain Peacock. My friend actually is blind. An apology’s in order.”
I placed a hand on Jonny’s arm, it wasn’t worth it. The way I was feeling, I couldn’t be bothered wasting our energy.
“Don’t worry, pricks like that always get what’s coming to them,” I said.
Jonny guided my hands onto the guard rail, which I gripped tightly. We’d not seen any whales yet, but I could sense the concentration of everyone scanning the horizon.
Even so I felt a bit low. This was a fantastic trip, but part of me questioned what I was doing on the boat? I wasn’t going to be able to see anything.
I felt the boat lurch as the group moved over to the opposite side, but it appeared to be a false alarm. By this point the Captain had the engines on tickover and we were drifting on the tide and wind, waiting for our first sighting. I allowed my thoughts to wander and started to question, why me? I hadn’t had a particularly extravagant or outrageous life before my sight started to deteriorate, nor had I been a bad person.
I was about to sink further into self-pity when I stopped dead. What had I just heard? With the boat still heeling over as everyone stood on the opposite side, Jonny and I were alone.
“Never again KT2. I drank far too…”
“Shh!”
I stood and leant over the edge of the boat, listening intently. The whale was surfacing right beside us! I grasped Jonny’s hand, whispering urgently to him. We both leaned further over, I heard the water below us rush and bubble as the whale broke the surface.
“Wow! It’s gorgeous KT2, what an incredible creature,” whispered Jonny. For a magical few seconds he described the long slippery body and the barnacle-encrusted snout, while I listened to the beautiful sound of air being expelled from her huge lungs. Of course the moment she blew water vapour, it alerted everyone else and they all scrambled over to our side of the boat to get a closer look.
“She has a calf KT2! Right by her side,” said Jonny, his voice loud and excited. I grinned, all my negative thoughts evaporating.
“Well done you!” Jonny said as he squeezed my arm. The whale blew more air and water high over our heads, the smell fishy and stale, but alive and real.
Then two things happened almost in unison. I heard that voice again, the one with plumy accent. And I started to feel very sick.
“Bloody hell I’ve got whale spit all over me! I know this trip is for you darling, but in my day we’d harpoon the bloody things…”
The voice was close. I had a rough idea of where, but needed more specific targeting information. I tugged on Jonny’s arm, knowing I didn’t have much time, feeling my stomach start to wrench.
“Upper class prick. Distance and direction? Quick!”
Fortunately Jonathan caught on pretty fast, either that or his reply was instinctive.
“Two metres, nine o’clock…”
He’d barely finished as I felt the convulsions rising to the back of my throat. I positioned myself and threw up, spewing warm putrid liquid towards the posh git. The amusing part was the way he screamed, not manly at all. Jonny immediately came to my aid, as much to drag me away from the man as to make sure I didn’t lose my footing and go over the side. There were shocked gasps, followed by stifled laughter as the man was ushered away to get cleaned up.
We used to get his type in the hospital all the time, but they soon quietened down after a hearty dose of ‘nurse justice.’
* *
Me
I struggled not to laugh. Someone being sick on you is disgusting, but since he’d made such a penis of himself, it was hilarious! Does laughing at him make me a bad person?
I was feeling a strange sense of connection to KT2 after the last two days. A woman of many talents I decided. If nothing else, this trip promised to be far from boring. Perhaps because I was having to describe our surroundings I was taking in more. Becoming more relaxed.
As the boat headed home, I could see the rugged barren coastline and the strange mix of tourist resort stretching out along the peninsula and nearby fishing community. There was a clear separation between the old traditional working town and the bright lights and glitz put on for the tourists. Funny what you start to notice when you start lifting your head from the sand…
* *
KT2
We finished off the day back
in Puerto Madryn with a bracing walk along the substantial concrete pier, which stretched a long way out to sea. During our walk, Jonny pointed out two seals basking in the sun on the back of a Navy patrol boat. According to the guide book extract Jonny read out, January and February see Orcas killer whales surfing up the beach to snatch seals in a spectacular display of survival of the fittest. I shuddered, it didn’t seem like a fair fight.
We strolled on, comfortable with each other. I had the occasional flashback to my earlier vomiting episode and cringed, it wasn’t my finest hour!
Me
We had a laugh about the last twenty-four hours over an early dinner. But that’s as far as the evening went. We were both still wiped out from the drinking session the night before and were in bed by nine. Tomorrow we’d bus it back to Viedma to catch the sleeper train and cross the width of Patagonia to Bariloche, Argentina’s Lake District. We’re hoping to go white water rafting there, although I’m a little concerned at how KT2 will cope. I’ll have to make sure I’m out of the firing line if she gets a bit queasy!
I turned out the light, shook my head, then smiled, still amused.
* *
KT2
It was bound to happen sooner or later, this time it was Jonny’s turn. Whatever it was he’d eaten, was making a hasty exit. He wouldn’t have appreciated being heard, so I turned over and let him get on with it. He’d be less self-conscious that way.
In the morning I thought about teasing him. I’d had a reasonable night’s sleep and was feeling quite chirpy, but hearing him groan made me think twice. I guessed he’d been up most of the night, judging by the rank smell drifting out from the bathroom, so I attempted a more sympathetic approach.
“Are you going to be okay on the train?” I asked, rolling over to face him.
“I think so. As long as they have a toilet on board.”
“I guess this is all part of travelling eh?” I said and reached out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. I felt him flinch and pull back as he struggled out of bed and made a dash for the loo. There wasn’t much I could do, so I snuggled deeper under the covers.