“Whitfield likes to take the wheel but he doesn’t have his captain’s papers. The boat’s actually run by Manny Ocho and a couple of permanent crewmen. Whitfield calls himself captain. A lot of people do who hang around here. It’s a case of more captains than boats.”
“Would the burgee be flying if Ocho was on board without Whitfield?”
“No, no. Whitfield couldn’t allow that.”
“Can you get me in touch with the boat?”
“No problem.”
There was some delay in getting through to the Spindrift, then a man’s voice answered, “Yes.”
“Hi, Manny. What’s up?”
“Oh, Mr. Sprague. We pretty soon get under way.”
“No goodbyes, no farewell party?”
“Not this time, no sir.”
“Is the captain on board?”
“No. Wait—wait a minute—”
Another man’s voice came on the line. “You’re damn tootin’ the captain’s on board. Who wants to know?”
“Sprague. I’m just checking.”
“Yeah? Well, everything’s A-OK, Sprague, old boy. We’re off and running.”
“Where to?”
“The moon, man, the moon.”
“Hold it, please.” Sprague put his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Aragon, “You want to talk to Whitfield? He sounds drunk.”
“I saw Whitfield less than half an hour ago and he wasn’t drunk,” Aragon said. “I’d better go out there and check things out.”
“Sure. I’d go with you but I can’t leave my post. Take the ramp nearest the breakwater. The gate’s open. These guys are always squawking about security but they leave the gates open for convenience.”
“Thanks, Mr. Sprague.”
“Sure. Tell Manny, next time I want a party.”
Some of the boats were owned by people who lived out of town. These seldom left the harbor. Others were used only on weekends and for the sailing races on Wet Wednesdays. A few were permanent residences, as permanent as the city’s bylaws allowed. A Monterey seiner was coming in loaded with fish, moving low and slow in the water, surrounded by a noisy tangle of gulls.
A lone pelican, sitting aloof and self-sufficient on the breakwater railing, viewed these barbarous antics with contempt. He didn’t need handouts, though he was not above accepting offerings from the fishermen who lined the breakwater. A pelican had occupied that same spot for years. Aragon and his school friends used to come down to the harbor on Saturdays and fish solely in order to feed the bird, flattered by its friendship. Perhaps it was the same pelican, or a son or grandson.
There wasn’t enough activity in Marina J for Aragon’s approach to go unnoticed. When he reached the Spindrift there was nobody on deck. The boat seemed suddenly deserted, though a radio was playing rock music in one of the cabins.
He called out, “Whitfield?”
He knew there were at least four people on board—Manny Ocho, the two crewmen and the man who had claimed to be Captain Whitfield—but none of them responded to his call. There was further evidence that the Spindrift wasn’t expecting visitors. The gangplank had been drawn up. When he’d first seen the ketch from the harbormaster’s office the gangplank had been down like a welcome mat.
“Captain Whitfield?”
There was a slight response this time. Someone turned off the radio. A dark-winged gull perched on the bowsprit let out a raucous laugh, then went back to his task of cleaning the oil off his breast feathers.
“Manny Ocho?” Aragon switched to Spanish. “What’s going on down there? Are you in trouble?”
Ocho started to reply but someone yelled, “Speak English, you bastard.”
“Chinga tu madre,” Ocho said.
“I told you, speak English.” The voice rose hysterically. “What’s that mean, that chinga business?”
“Guess.”
“I am guessing, you bad-mouthed little creep. I ought to kill you.”
“You need me, I not need you.”
Aragon was forgotten for the moment as the argument continued. Only a couple of feet of water separated the ramp from the deck of the Spindrift. He jumped it easily and landed on the deck. The door was closed to the forward cabin where the argument was taking place. Aragon pounded on it with his fist and there was immediate silence. Then the door was jerked open so violently that he almost fell down the steps into the cabin. After the glare of the sun it was dark and he could see very little at first. But the voice was recognizable, half whine, half bluster:
“Well, well, look who’s dropped in, my old pal that leaves his car keys in the ignition.”
MERMAID
13
When Cleo woke up, the boat was rocking slightly with the rising tide. She wasn’t ready to wake up yet, so she kept her eyes closed and rolled her head back and forth on the pillow and thought of the baby inside her rolling back and forth, too, rocking, rocking, rock-a-bye baby. She held another pillow clasped tight against her belly. This second one was made of foam rubber and it felt smooth and yielding like flesh. Sometimes, in a foggy moment, she believed it was real flesh, her own real baby. But usually she knew it wasn’t, that her real baby was deep down inside her, very tiny, hardly bigger than a grain of sugar.
Once she tied the pillow around her waist inside her dress and went downtown, walking along the streets and into the stores. People looked at her oddly.
Some were pitying: “Why, you poor child, you’re scarcely more than a child yourself. How far gone are you?”
“Quite,” Cleo said solemnly. “Quite far gone.”
Some were contemptuous. “Don’t they teach about contraceptives in school? Look at her. Probably on welfare. That brat of hers will probably be on welfare, too. And we’ll be picking up the bills.”
One woman reached out and touched Cleo on the stomach.
Cleo drew back, surprised and frightened. “What did you do that for?”
“For luck. Didn’t you ever hear that?”
“No.”
“Whenever you see a woman big with child you touch her on the stomach for luck.”
She went back to the motel near the beach and told Roger about the woman who touched the baby for luck, only it wasn’t the baby.
“Why did you do a thing like that?” he said, turning red with anger. “People will think you’re crazy.”
“But there really is a baby deep inside. And you’re going to be the father and I’m going to be the mother. You promised, Roger. That very first day when I came to you and told you what happened with Ted and me, you said you would take care of me. You said you would see to it that Hilton wouldn’t take the baby away and have me fixed like he did our cat. You promised, Roger.”
“Yes.”
“And after this one, we’ll have some more. Boy, girl, boy, girl, or two boys and two girls, whichever you think is best. It wouldn’t be fair to have just one child. It would always be lonely, the way I am.”
“What if we can’t make it, Cleo, if things don’t work out?”
“You’re always telling me that people can work anything out if they really try, that people can make things work out. You told me that.”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t lying?”
“I didn’t intend to lie, Cleo. Perhaps I only spoke too soon, too optimistically.”
She began to cry then, and Roger held her in his arms, trying to soothe her, stroking her hair, brushing her tears away with his mouth.
“Come inside, Roger,” she said. “Come in and visit our baby. Come inside.”
“Not now.”
“Why not?”
“The dog,” he said. “The dog wants out. I have to go and walk him.”
“Oh, I’m sick of that dog. He’s always interfering like this. He’s not my friend anymor
e . . . Will you come back soon?”
“Yes.”
Roger was gone a long time. When he came back he told her he’d arranged to have the dog returned to the Jaspers. He was very pale and smelled of liquor.
“Are you going to visit the baby now, Roger?”
“I want to.”
They lay down again and she clasped her legs around his and held him tight against her. She could feel him struggling to get away and pretty soon he began to cry.
“God forgive me. I’m sorry, Cleo. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
Roger always said things three times when he really meant them, so that was the night she found out that things sometimes didn’t work out no matter how hard people tried.
This time when Roger left he took his clothes with him and that was the end of the marriage.
She phoned Ted at the house the next morning and told him a sort of lie. She said Hilton had kicked her out just the way he had kicked Ted out and she was staying at a motel because she had nowhere to go. She asked him to help her find a place to live. He said he’d be right down, though he sounded rather peculiar.
She waited for him outside the motel.
His first words were, “That story you gave me on the phone was a lot of bull, wasn’t it?”
“A little,” she said. “Not a whole lot.”
“So what actually happened?”
“I ran away. I ran away because they kicked you out and I didn’t think it was fair.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because I like you.”
“Oh, come off it, kid.” But he sounded flattered. “You shouldn’t have run away. You know you can’t look after yourself. What do you intend to do?”
“I was going to get married.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I found out he was already married.”
“Hang in there. He might divorce her.”
“It’s not a her.”
“So why did you drag me into this?”
“I don’t know.”
She did know, though she hadn’t known for long. When she telephoned him for help she had only a vague idea in her mind, but now she was perfectly sure. Ted had nice features, he laughed easily, he played games well, he surfed and skied, and he could teach all these things to a son the way a good father should.
They walked along the waterfront. Ted told her his mother had given him enough money to live on for the summer, and that if his father hadn’t relented by next fall she intended to sell some bonds to finance his senior year in college. Cleo asked him where he was going for the summer. He wasn’t certain.
“Aspen, maybe,” he said. “It’s not as lively as it is in the winter but there’s still plenty of action if you look for it.”
“I was in Catalina once.” She recalled the trip vividly because it had been the only real experience in her life, with no Hilton or Frieda around, no Mrs. Holbrook or counselors, just the waves and the sea birds and a pleasant little man who ran the boat. She even remembered his name, Manny Ocho, because there weren’t many names in her life to remember. She saw the little man once in a while because on her free afternoons she sometimes took a bus down to the harbor and looked for the boat. If it was there she waved to the skipper or whoever was on board. But usually it was gone and the space where it was supposed to be was empty. She felt left out, like a little girl not invited to a party.
She said, “Do you think I’d like Aspen?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I’ve got a thousand dollars.”
Ted laughed. “That’s about four days’ worth in Aspen.”
This was a shock. She thought a person could live for a whole year on a thousand dollars. “Where is Aspen?”
“In the mountains in Colorado.”
“Is it healthful?”
“In some ways, I guess. In others, no.”
“I mean, does it have a healthful climate? I need a healthful climate.”
“Look, kid, the most healthful climate for you is right here. You’d better call my parents and tell them you’ll be home pretty soon. Will you do that?”
“If you want me to, Ted.”
“Listen, what I want has nothing to do with anything. It’s simple logic. You know what logic is, common sense.”
“If you’re driving alone someplace and I wanted to go to the very same place, wouldn’t it be common sense to take me along?”
“No,” he said. “No, no.”
“Why do men always say things three times? Why not two or four?”
“Okay, well make it four. No.”
“I didn’t really ask anyway. I just said, wouldn’t it be common sense?”
“Listen, you wanted me to help you find an apartment or someplace to live. I can drive you around and we’ll look for vacancy signs. And that’ll be the end of it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. But let’s keep walking. It’s such a neat day and you and I haven’t ever really talked before.”
“All right. We’ll walk and talk. But don’t start getting any funny ideas. You and I are going our separate ways.”
She gazed up at him wistfully. “But Aspen sounds so pretty.”
“It’s not that pretty. Besides, I may not go there. It’s the first name that occurred to me, is all. I may go to Borneo.”
“I never heard of Borneo. Does it have a healthful climate?”
“Jeez,” Ted said. “Let’s walk.”
“But does it have a healthful climate?”
“It’s a jungle infested with giant snakes and rodents.”
“Then why are you going there?”
“To get away from people who ask dumb questions.”
“I have to ask dumb questions,” she said. “I’m dumb, aren’t I?”
“Come on, come on, come on.”
She didn’t move.
“Now what’s the matter?”
“You did it again, Ted.”
“Did what?”
“Said something three times, instead of two or four.”
Ted said, “Move it, kid,” and gave her a little push. They began walking out toward the breakwater, past the Coast Guard headquarters, the marine accessories store and yacht brokers’ offices, a fish market, and finally the breakwater itself. The tide was low and a small group of children were picking up mussels off the rocks on the sea side. On the other side, between two rows of marinas, a western grebe was diving for dinner. It came up with a fish in its beak and maneuvered it around until the fish could be swallowed headfirst. The bird’s long thin neck bulged for a moment or two. Cleo didn’t like to see creatures eating other creatures, so she closed her eyes and clung to Ted’s arm to help keep her balance.
When she opened her eyes again, there was the Spindrift, sky-blue and white, with dark blue sail covers. At first she thought there was no one on deck; then she saw Manny Ocho about three quarters of the way up the mainmast, inspecting some rigging.
She called to him and waved. “Manny, it’s me, Cleo.”
He waved back. “Hey, Cleo, why you not in school?”
“I’m on vacation.”
“Pretty soon, I’m on vacation, too.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ensenada, see my wife and kids, make sure everything’s okey doke. Who’s your friend?”
“Ted.”
“Want to come aboard?”
“Oh, yes, I’d love to.”
“Better go the long way round. Too far to jump, too dirty to swim.”
They walked back to the entrance ramp of the marina, with Cleo pulling Ted by the hand to hurry him along.
“Who the hell wants to go on a boat?” he said. “I thought I was supposed to help you f
ind an apartment.”
“That can wait. I still have the room at the motel where Roger and I were going to spend our honeymoon.”
“Has it occurred to you that I might have affairs of my own to settle?”
“Oh, Ted, you don’t really want to go to Borneo, do you? Maybe Manny might let us ride along with him to Ensenada. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I doubt it.”
“I bet it’s a lot nicer than Borneo,” Cleo said. “I bet it’s not infected with snakes.”
When they reached the Spindrift the gangplank was down, and they went on board as Manny Ocho slid down from the mast on a rope like a circus performer.
“I show off,” he said, examining the palms of his hands. “Hurts like hell. Cleo, you looking good, happy. This your young man?”
“She’s my aunt,” Ted said.
“Your aunt, ho, ho. A joke, no?”
“It’s no joke.”
“You’re a big boy to have such a cute little aunt. Me, I got nine, ten aunts, all old and fat and ugly.”
Cleo giggled, hiding her face against Ted’s sleeve. He didn’t seem to mind. She really was cute.
Manny showed them around the Spindrift with great pride. In a sense it belonged more to him than to Whitfield, who merely held the owner’s papers and couldn’t have taken the boat out of the harbor by himself.
The captain’s quarters occupied the entire forward cabin. It was spacious and luxuriously furnished, but its teak paneling was marred by Whitfield’s collection of pinups, some of them signed, and its thick, red wool carpeting bore the stains of too many spilled drinks. A television set that projected its picture on a large screen was turned on to a baseball game, and a crewman was sitting in the captain’s swivel chair, watching the game and sipping Coke out of a can.
Manny explained the crewman. “Mr. Whitfield, he at his place in Palm Springs, not expected for a couple more days. Maybe sooner, maybe longer. I think he looking for a new chick.”
“I wish Donny could get away from school and come down here,” Cleo said. “We could have a party. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Manny laughed. “Aunts not supposed to like parties. And why you want Donny?”
“You need a lot of people to have a real party and I hardly know any.”
Mermaid Page 14
