Of Sea and Cloud

by Jon Keller

  At home he sat at his kitchen table. His trailer rocked and the big spruce in his front yard rocked, too. He spun a scallop shell ashtray in circles across the tabletop. Rain beat the window and rattled the glass in its aluminum framework and he felt the bursts of wet air like screams. This line of storms each one had been followed by a humid stillness that swallowed the horizon and made the sea and sky merge into a single oblivion that did not belong on this bold cold-water coast. It had been eight days since his father disappeared. Eight days filled with boats searching the seas for a body and eight nights filled with Jonah bolt upright in his bed with sweat stapling his forehead like buoy patterns. On each of those nights the arcane dream-image of his father’s lobster pound existing as some massive heart had surfaced in his mind and he didn’t know what to make of the image and he could not shake the image from his daytime thoughts. In actuality the pound was nothing more than a cove converted into a tidal lobster storage facility but since Nicolas’s death it had become synonymous with the man himself.

  Another streak of rain and the water pounded like footsteps on his roof. Jonah didn’t hear the truck but saw the sweep of headlights. His brother kicked his rubber boots off and came into the small trailer kitchen.

  You got coffee hot?

  I can, Jonah said.

  Get it hot then. I guess I might need a cup.

  I imagine that’s so. She’s blowing a gale.

  Bill grunted. Guess ain’t none of us fishing in this. Price don’t matter if she’s blowing too hard to fish anyhow. Hell, Jonah, the tide’s right up overtop the wharf, higher’n I ever saw. She’s lapping the bait house doors and liable to flood the whole operation. Fuel pumps and all are going under.

  Jonah put water in a kettle and turned the burner on. Bill sat down and turned his hands together to dry them. He lit a cigarette. Jonah slid the scallop shell ashtray across the table then opened a beer for himself and he wondered when Bill would mention Erma Lee. He sipped the beer as the water heated.

  Neither spoke.

  When the coffee was finished Jonah poured a cup and handed it to Bill and said, Hell, Bill, Virgil done knew about her anyhow.

  Well you don’t see me squealing you out.

  That’s different.

  Different because it’s you is why it’s different. And how’d Virgil know?

  How you think Virgil knew? Same way Virgil knows who’s gotta have a shit and who’s got crabs and every other goddamned thing under this fogfucked sun.

  He don’t know one thing.

  What’s that? Little Erma Lee got twins?

  No, she ain’t got no twins. She ain’t big enough for twins.

  She ain’t big enough for you.

  I’ll tell you what neither one you or Virgil knows if you shut your highliner mouth for a breath.

  What’s that?

  The Downcoast Highliner is going into the lobster pound business with his big brother is what.

  Like hell.

  Like hell is right Mister Man. I know we figured I’d take his share in the pound and you’d get the camp, but I’m thinking on you and me going in half partners and we sell the Jennifer and you take the Cinderella once we get her back. Now don’t you go getting ornery. You need a bigger boat.

  I ain’t getting ornery, Bill. And I don’t need a bigger boat. And I ain’t gardening lobsters in that mud hole and counting numbers in books and I especially ain’t going in with Osmond fucking Randolph.

  You always was good with books, Jonah. You’re the Downcoast Highliner by Jesus. You can do any old thing. That pound is worth more’n twice what the camp is worth and so if we go partners with you taking a share of the pound, them numbers can work out. The price ain’t shit but all we got to do is feed and hold some lobsters over the winter and by March the price’ll be up.

  That don’t account for Osmond.

  The hell with Osmond. We’ll buy him out down the road.

  The hell so. You got yourself a infant coming. You fixing on marrying her or ain’t you?

  Bill leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. He held his coffee in both hands. I don’t know, he said. I just ain’t sure what to do.

  Jonah set one hand on the warm kettle. He wasn’t used to seeing his brother confused. He said, That girl’ll be the ruin of you.

  That what Virgil said?

  That’s what I said.

  Well she ain’t like that.

  The hell she ain’t. Get rid of her.

  Rid of her? You want me to run her offshore with a cinderblock?

  Christ, Bill, you know what I’m saying. If you love her, good. Congratulations. If not, end it before you got ten kids, a pile of food stamps, and more cousins than you can count.

  Bill stood up. You want in the pound or not? It’s family, Jonah. Always been. We got sixty thousand pounds of lobster in there right now and next summer I’m rebuilding the dam and causeway and dragging that rotten mud out of her and everything. It’s called fine tuning, Jonah. She’ll hold upward of eighty thousand pounds next year.

  It ain’t my deal, Bill, and you owe the bank for them sixty thousand pounds.

  Bill put his coffee down and stood straight and put his hands in his pockets. The pound’s good protection, Jonah. It’s security. The price’ll change by late winter.

  You’ll be changing diapers is what’ll change. Christ no I don’t want in just like you don’t want in with Erma Lee Carver or Osmond Randolph.

  She ain’t what you think. And I can handle Osmond.

  I don’t give a shit, Captain.

  Bill stepped into his rubber boots and opened the door. A gust of wind filled the room and he pulled the door closed without leaving. I know it, Jonah. I know it.

  Bill met Jonah’s gaze and the two stood like that for a moment and within that moment Jonah wondered how his brother would survive without their father.

  Bill continued, But I can’t keep away from her is the thing. I think it’s them pheromones you spoke of. She’s got a full trawl of them.

  I imagine that’s so.

  Bill shuffled his feet in the doorway. And besides, you ever seen a woman shaves down there, Jonah? It’s smooth as a frog’s belly.

  Christ, Captain. Any woman can do that. That ain’t just Erma Lee.

  It’s just Erma Lee for me.

  When he left Jonah stood with his back to the door and listened to the trailer rattle in the wind. He was exhausted and wished he could lie down and sleep for twelve hours straight but knew that if he went to bed he’d be alone with the wind and the flexing trailer walls and his father’s pound like a heart and he didn’t want that. He wanted warmth but more than warmth he wanted time and he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  He finished his beer and opened another and another set of headlights pulled into his driveway. He peered out the window and saw Virgil’s truck and saw Virgil flick his cab light on for Jonah to see who it was then it was dark again. Christ, he muttered. He pulled on a sweatshirt and put the hood up and his rubber boots on and took his beer outside. Virgil put the little dog on his lap when Jonah got in.

  I figure this rain as the Lord shitting on Captain Bill, Virgil said. What’d he say?

  What’d Bill say?

  Yes, Jonah, what’d Bill say?

  About what?

  About Erma Lee. When Bill was here, what did he say about little Slush?

  I guess he said she weren’t slushy at all, Virgil. Said she was like a frog’s belly is what he said. Fine as frog’s hair.

  Don’t fuck with me, Jonah.

  I don’t know. I suppose he’ll marry her.

  Your old man would have laughed his ass off then beat the Captain’s ass off. Hell, we knew you’d be trouble before you even come out shittin’ and gettin’ on the floor, but we had hopes for the Captain.

  Guess I ain’t been much trouble.

  Not so bad as we thought.

  Drove the old man a bit mad, Jonah said.

  Virgil coughed and lit a cigarette and reac
hed down with one hand and wrapped the fingers around Jonah’s wrist. The touch was warm and comforting. Virgil squeezed hard.

  Jonah kept his eyes on the pale and shaking hand.

  That wasn’t you, Jonah. You know that. That wasn’t you at all. Virgil squeezed even harder then let go and sipped his glass of brandy and milk. He shut the wipers off and the rain streamed down the windshield. They sat in silence for a minute.

  I got a favor for you is why I come by, Virgil said.

  A favor.

  I got four hundred new traps to sell you. You seen them in my dooryard.

  You got four hundred new traps to sell me.

  Five footers.

  Hell.

  Hell is right. You don’t need to go clamming or some dumbshit notion. Old Nicolas would want me to instruct you on that. You need a new gang of traps is what you need.

  I might go partners in the pound.

  Virgil turned his head to Jonah. He scratched the dog’s ears. Shut up, Jonah, I’m talking to you. I been thinking about you this night. Your gear’s all shit and you don’t catch half what me or Bill catch. You’re not going into the pound. You’ll get that new gang rigged and get you a sternman and you’ll fish the Cinderella offshore with me and the Captain.

  And Osmond.

  The hell with Osmond. He’s not fishing there yet.

  He’s all around you though.

  But he’s not on top of me yet, and he’s not ever going to be on top of me. Even if he gets the Captain up his asshole, he’s not fishing on me.

  Jonah looked out the windshield at his trailer gleaming silver in the headlights. The woods around the trailer were a black wall of spruce and fir. The wind tore over the roof of the truck and everything shook and howled and Jonah figured it would be a quick relief to see his trailer ripped from its pad and flung like a dead gull against the tree line.

  The Captain said the wharf’s gone under.

  Virgil nodded and waited.

  Biggest tide he’s ever seen, Jonah said.

  We’re not talking about the tide, Jonah.

  My gear’s fine and I got all the old man’s traps if I want them. Hell, they’re already set, just sitting out there full of lobsters right now.

  You and me and Bill are taking them up soon’s this storm passes. Christ. For a college boy you’re not too smart, Jonah. Those traps are getting old anyway.

  He done fine fishing. I don’t need new traps.

  You’re not a businessman and you’re not a highliner like Nic and the Captain, so you need all you can get.

  What am I then? Jonah said. He watched the oil smoke from his furnace rise out of the chimney and flatten in the wind. He felt Virgil staring at him but didn’t want to make eye contact.

  Virgil sighed out loud and his shoulders drooped and his chin dropped. I haven’t told you the deal yet.

  There ain’t no deal, Virgil.

  I’m talking business.

  I ain’t a businessman. Jonah slumped in the seat and put one foot on the dashboard. He lit a cigarette. He wondered if the confusion he carried like a whirlpool in his gut was something he would ever rid himself of. He said, I don’t know what to do right yet. I been thinking on moving out of this shithole and into the old man’s camp. The hell with this beer can trailer.

  Virgil emptied his drink and reached for the bottle on the floor between his legs. He poured brandy into his glass and pulled a gallon of milk from the floor and sloshed some in. He turned the windshield wipers on and the two watched the rain.

  The price will go up, Jonah. I know things aren’t right, not now they’re not. Nic’s gone and the price is fucked. The government’s got their fist so far up our asses that I can taste their fucking cuticles. Bait and fuel cost twice what they used to. And the Captain’s got Erma Lee waxing his dolphin. We’re fucked, Jonah.

  So what in hell do I need new traps for?

  Virgil took a deep breath and expelled it slowly as though exhausted by the truth of what he was about to say. When he spoke his voice was low and soft. Listen to me, Jonah. This is important. You need to remember what matters here, what really goddamned matters. Price does not matter, not right now. What matters is who we are and what we do. Virgil tapped his chest with the rim of his glass. We got to hang down on her, Jonah. We got to fish hard. We have got to maintain.

  I might dig clams.

  Virgil shifted his weight in the truck seat. The heater fan ran. Ask Bill about it, he said.

  Bill wants me in the pound with him and Osmond. Says we’re gonna buy him out.

  Virgil glanced surprised and frustrated at Jonah. Bill don’t know shit.

  Then why ask him?

  Virgil put the truck in gear. I’ll see you.

  When’s the storm passing?

  Tomorrow. She’ll turn around in the morning and blow north and flatten them seas. We’ll have a day, day after tomorrow.

  Jonah opened the door. You ain’t said the business deal yet.

  Christ, Jonah. He lurched the truck forward. Just come on and get the sonsofwhores out of my dooryard and shut your highliner mouth.

  Jonah shut the door and put his hood up as he crossed to his trailer. He dumped his beer out in the sink and sat at the table. He wished his brother would come back. He sat for an hour then went to bed with a cigarette and watched the rain drip down the window and listened to the roof leak drip into his catch-pot in the bathroom.

  Jonah fell asleep but shortly afterward a hand landed on his shoulder blade and the blankets slid back. The hand was joined by another and both hands pressed firmly and moved slowly up the back of his neck. Then bare legs straddled him and the warm weight of Charlotte landed on the small of his back. She tucked herself to him with her mouth beside his ear and both of her hands driven into his hair.

  She kissed his neck beneath his ear and said to him, Jonah, wake up, Jonah.

  He smiled with his face half buried in the pillow. He rolled his head enough to kiss her.

  You have something to tell me, she said into his ear.

  He smiled more.

  I know you do.

  She blew into his ear and moved her hands to his armpits and tickled.

  You have to tell me, Jonah.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Bullshit, she said and she tickled and he rolled back and forth and pressed his elbows to his side to pinch her hands in his armpits.

  I got nothing, he said.

  Charlotte sat up. She flung her hair over her shoulder. A gust of wind hit and shook the trailer and shot over the roof. Charlotte ran a single fingertip up each side of his torso. Then two fingertips. She tickled. Jonah reached with both hands behind his back to stop her but he couldn’t catch her fingers so he rolled quickly over and grabbed her by the wrists and held them tight. She smiled. A faint light crossed her body. He sat up and shifted her weight from his abdomen to his hips and pinned her hands behind her back so he could hold them both with one hand and with the other hand he traced his fingertips over her ribs. She laughed and twisted free and they stared at each other for a quick moment.

  Tell me. You have to tell me.

  He lay back down and landed his hands on her thighs. She wiggled but kept her spine straight. She looked down at him and her hair was a mess now.

  Sounds like you already know, he said.

  Know what?

  Whatever it is you’re asking me to tell you.

  I don’t know any such thing, she said and laughed. I don’t know anything you haven’t told me, Jonah Graves.

  Who told you?

  Told me what?

  He lifted her up then lowered her down and she started to sigh but lifted herself and said, Nope. I don’t know anything yet.

  So you want to trade? Is that it?

  Yup.

  That’s prostitution.

  No it’s not. It’s espionage.

  Espionage? Jesus.

  He lifted her again and shifted. He saw her close her eyes and watched her
neck bend and her chin lift. He sat up and ran his arms beneath hers and pulled her body tight to his.

  • • •

  Later. Jonah lay on his back with Charlotte’s cheek on his breast and her fingers in his chest hair and one leg over his legs.

  Are you going to tell me now? she said.

  Christ, you know as well as I do that he knocked her up.

  Who knocked who up?

  How do you think it worked? Erma Lee didn’t knock Bill up.

  I just wanted to hear it from the source.

  Jonah laughed. I guess I ain’t the source, Charlotte.

  Dad says she took serious the thing he poked at her in fun.

  Virgil said that? What’s he doing spreading that around for?

  Charlotte lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest with her face to his. Just to me and Mom. He’s excited about kids around here again. He says it’s all old people now. He keeps talking about the old days when the school bus came down here and kids rode bicycles and jumped off the wharf and stuff like that.

  And you go telling everyone what he tells you.

  She pulled his chest hair. Shut up, Jonah. I do not.

  Bill ain’t going to be happy when he finds out Virgil’s been telling everyone.

  Everyone knows anyhow. You think Erma Lee isn’t proud?

  Jonah’s fingertips traced her spine. I imagine she’s just walking on water all over America.

  She is, Charlotte said and laughed and put her cheek back to his chest and her hand on his hip. She’s telling folks that he’s buying her a sports car.

  A sports car?

  Yeah.

  What in hell kind of sports car, Charlotte?

  You know. A Nissan or something foreign.

  Jonah shook his head back and forth. Well, he said. Your old man knows about us now, so might be that we’re public knowledge too.

  Charlotte rose and propped herself up with her elbow. Did he say something?

  Gave me four hundred new traps is what he done.