The Road to Amistad

by Ken Dickson

  The fire kept me busy, but I what I really craved was companionship. My mind drifted to Beth. I tried to imagine her smile, her silly Ole and Lena jokes and all the wonderful adventures that we’d shared throughout the years, but all I could think of was that single step she took toward me after Nikki’s burial as I hugged Hailey. It could have easily been a stumble. I could’ve been served divorce papers the next day for all I knew.

  Then, I thought of Jessie. Every memory of her was pleasant aside from my self-created mess with Beth. I especially liked the fact that I could talk about anything with her without her thinking I was crazy. Having both been mentally ill puts a whole different perspective on that word. Besides, if we’d never been crazy, we would never have met.

  I felt wrong pushing her away and trying to prove my loyalty to Beth. I’d not made any headway with Beth in months. Besides, there are no guarantees in this life. As the wood burned down to the last embers, I decided to show my gratitude for her kindness. The next day, I made several reservations in preparation. Later that evening as I sat next to a fresh fire in one of two camping chairs purchased earlier in the day, I called her.

  “Jessie? It’s Ken.

  “Who?”

  “Very funny. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you for a while. I’ve been really busy.”

  “That’s so cliché.”

  “Honest. But that’s not why I called. I know that this is short notice, but I had a great idea and was wondering if you were free tomorrow afternoon and could miss work Monday?”

  “You’ve sure been giving me the cold shoulder. Give me one good reason why I should.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “That’s lame, but I’m in a good mood. Tell you what, I’ll give you a shot, but you better deliver.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, I promise. I’ll pick you up at four tomorrow. Dress sharp and pack an overnight bag with casual clothes, comfortable shoes and swim apparel.”

  “Okay. Don’t be a stranger for so long next time. I’ll see you then.”

  Although I initially avoided her because of flashbacks of my family when I was with her, lately I really had been too busy. Tomorrow, I would make up for my neglect.

  ***

  On Sunday afternoon, I knocked on Jessie’s door. She opened it seconds later.

  “Whoa, you’ve really outdone yourself,” I said, admiringly. She held her chin high and spun with the elegance of a runway model, showing off her sophisticated French-braid, striking makeup, and gorgeous halter-necked summer dress.

  “I wanted everything to be perfect for our first date—you are taking me on a date, aren’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Definitely. Did you pack?” She nodded and hefted her bag.

  “Let me take that.” I took the bag with my left hand and then held her hand with my right as we walked down the stairs.

  I took her to a landmark Phoenix restaurant: Durant’s, a first class steak house that had been around for nearly sixty years. We entered through the kitchen where we witnessed the cooks in action and then admired the vintage décor—red furnishings, flocked wallpaper and endless plaques professing the restaurant’s greatness. The host seated us in a horseshoe-shaped booth. We ordered their best Cabernet Sauvignon, Caesar salad, filet mignon with shrimp and finished dinner with Durant’s cheesecake.

  Afterward, I drove her past the former location of the “No Outlet” sign, through the spot where a barricade once marked the end of the pavement, and seamlessly onto freshly laid blacktop leading to Primera. In no time, we crested the hill above Primera and turned into my dusty lot. “It’s not much, but this is my new home.”

  “It’s cute. What is this place?”

  “It’s the community we’ve been building. I’ll bring you up to speed after I give you a tour of my new place.” I showed her the trailer, which took only a few minutes and then I led her up a path to the big rock that I’d cleared with loppers, a pick and a shovel a day earlier, throwing brush, roots and rocks to either side. I helped her to climb onto the rock and then joined her sitting on the edge. It was a beautiful evening. The sun had recently set and the moon was chasing it, barely visible in the afterglow of the sun and right above the deeply silhouetted Estrella Mountains.

  “This is Primera. That road we came in on is Shaughnessey Road. It dead ends at the cul-de-sac at the far end of Primera.” I pointed to the freshly paved road below surrounded by new curbing and a sidewalk with wiring sprouting up in three places for street-lights. “Those sixteen concrete pads will soon be homes. There’s a bike path around the perimeter over a half-mile long. When that’s finished, there’ll be trees and gardens all along it. Beyond the cul-de-sac will be a pool, tennis courts, a volleyball pit, picnic areas and a covered play area for children.”

  “It’s coming along nicely. I can’t wait to see it finished.”

  We talked until our behinds ached from the hard, uneven rock surface, then I helped her down and we returned to the trailer. I built a fire, and we sat next to it in the new chairs and continued our conversation until it grew late. “We should probably call it a night. I’ve got plans for us in the morning. How would you like to be the first guest in my new home?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  That night, with the only neighbors within a mile being coyotes, javelina and owls, we broke in the queen bed properly. The next morning, I let her sleep as I prepared breakfast. I filled two plates with pancakes and bacon, poured glasses of orange juice and milk and woke her with a kiss. We then ate together in bed. Afterward, I cleaned up and prepared to leave.

  “What’s in the cooler?” she asked.

  “Lunch,” I replied.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. We should put our swimsuits on before we leave. I don’t think there are any changing rooms where we’re going.”

  After we changed, I piled everything into the trunk of the Elantra and we headed out of Primera.

  “Thanks for the special treatment.”

  “I’m just getting started,” I replied. Then, I said something I never had before, probably the first thing any other guy would have said: “Tell me about you.”

  “Okay. I grew up not far from Pocatello, Idaho on a potato farm, the only girl of three children. My brothers were big strapping horses of men like my dad, and I was the pretty tomboy whom everyone adored. Though not as strong as any of them, I proudly worked right alongside them.

  “I loved my brothers and my dad, but Mom was the focal point of the family and the one I cherished the most. She was funny, wise and knew just what to say in any situation. She collapsed and died suddenly when I was ten from a congenital heart defect that none of us was aware of.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago, but thanks anyway. That rocked the family and shook me to the core. Things never were the same after that, but rain, wind, or death, the farm still needed tending. Sometimes, I think that old farm is what held us all together.

  “After I graduated from high school, I yearned for something different. I left for a new start, skipping over Utah and landing in Flagstaff, Arizona. There, I worked as a waitress while taking classes at NAU. Flagstaff was quaint, but I couldn’t resist the lure of the big city. After a few years at NAU, I transferred to ASU where I completed my BA in Finance.

  “I worked my way through college, and I’m proud to say that I didn’t owe a cent to anyone. Despite the fact that ASU is one of the biggest party schools around, between school, work and studying, I didn’t have time to party, and my grades reflected it. I graduated at the top of my class and landed a job right away in mortgage lending. I was making some real money then, and for the first time in my life, I could do anything I wanted.

  “Around that time, I hooked up with some co-workers who really knew how to hit the town. They took me under their wing and introduced me to big city nightlife. We w
ent out almost every night. It was exhilarating at first, but I drank too much, and I’m not proud of some of the choices I made, one of which was Jason.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “I guess you could say that, but we never actually dated. We drank and partied a lot at first, and then he convinced me to take drugs: Ecstasy, ‘G’, and pot in the beginning. Later, he introduced me to cocaine and finally, heroin.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. I managed to hold it together for a while, but eventually, I was getting high every chance I could. After that, no high seemed to last long enough. Gone was the thrill, replaced by broken relationships, unpredictable behavior, theft and ultimately, a free ticket to the PDC. I don’t even remember how I got there.”

  “Wow, I never would have guessed that was your story when I sat next to you that night.”

  “That’s not all. During the weeks before then, I often dreamed of a man named Caspian who would rescue me from my death spiral. He was tall, handsome—like every Disney prince rolled into one. The worse it got, the more frequently I dreamed of him until in the end, I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming anymore. Beaten, confused, lost, addicted, I wailed in desperation, and you came to my rescue.”

  “If I’d known all of that back then, I would have stayed with you all night.”

  She smiled at me, and her eyes filled with tears. “You stayed with me long enough. You ended it, and I never got the chance to thank you. While at Gracewood, I cleaned up. When they released me, I got back on track and never looked back. There you have it. That’s me.” I reached for her hand and held it reassuringly. She was quiet after that, sometimes looking out the window and other times gazing at me with deep affection. Finally, she sighed heavily and continued. “I thought of you for almost a year. There was no way I was letting you out of my life when we met again. You changed everything for me. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  “To be perfectly honest, when I approached you at the PDC, it was my intention to change your life for the better, whether I could or not.”

  ***

  Just over a half-hour later, we rounded a curve in the road, and I parked the car at a scenic overlook. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

  “It’s Canyon Lake, one of my favorite places.” I let her savor the view for a time and then we drove on, arriving at the Canyon Lake Marina a short while later. I parked the car near the marina office, retrieved the cooler and our things, and led her down the dock to the cream-colored “Ship Store” at the end of it, walking past a rental wake boarding boat and half-dozen runabouts on the way. We circled around the compact store to get to the entrance, passing the first of two gas pumps on the edge of the dock and then entered through heavily tinted glass double-doors.

  A rack of life vests stood to our left. Behind that, shelves filled with boxes of inflatable water toys and marine engine oils filled the center of the left wall. A dozen or so oars leaned in the near corner of that wall and props of various pitches hung from metal hooks in perf-board in the far corner. Fishing tackle filled the entire back and right walls. In front of the right wall was a wood and glass case displaying suntan lotions and bug repellents. Behind it stood a tall, sunburned young man wearing a “Ship Store” t-shirt and generic baseball cap.

  “Morning folks. I’m Jake. Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes, I reserved a runabout for four hours. The name is Dickson.” He reached below the counter and retrieved a clipboard.

  “Dickson, Dickson…” He followed his finger down the board. “Here you are—ninety horse Dorado.”

  “That’s it,” I said, handing him my credit card. As he processed it, he explained the fine print and then gave me the clipboard and a pen to sign.

  “When you’re through, just pull up to one of the pumps outside. We’ll fill it and close out the bill. Gas is $4.50 a gallon. Anything else I can help you with today?”

  “No, that should do it. Where’s the boat?”

  “It’s the one closest to the store. I’ll help you cast off. Lake’s calm and peaceful today. I haven’t seen a soul for hours. Should be some fine boating.”

  “I’m sure that it will be.”

  I put the receipt in my wallet, gathered up all the gear and headed for the boat.

  “Ever been boating?” I asked Jessie.

  “Only once a long time ago at American Falls Reservoir near Pocatello. It’s small, muddy and surrounded by farmland. Nothing like this.”

  “You might not believe it, but I learned to water ski on that lake.”

  “No kidding?”

  “I lived in Pocatello for five years in the eighties.”

  “I would never have guessed that.”

  “I used to have a boat of my own and loved coming here. I hope that you enjoy it.” I put everything in the boat and helped her in. Jake explained the controls and pointed to where the life vests and fire extinguisher were located. I started the engine, and he untied the boat and pushed us off.

  “You have fun, now.”

  As we idled toward open water, I explained no-wake zones, rights of way and a little about boater safety. Once we hit open water and I shoved the throttle forward, I felt a familiar feeling: freedom—being able to go wherever we wanted and however fast we wanted to get there. Jessie, sporting a grin from ear-to-ear, apparently felt it, too.

  A mile later, we veered right off the main body of water into the canyon through which the Salt River once raged. The cliff walls grew closer, steeper and more dramatic as we followed the canyon for five more miles. We rounded one last bend, and a line of orange buoys prevented us from going any farther. I slowed and then put the boat in reverse for a moment to stop its forward momentum completely and then I cut the engine.

  It was perfectly still. The only sound you could hear was our wake meeting the shoreline. The water was too deep for an anchor, but with no wind, we wouldn’t drift much. As expected, we were alone on the lake. It was a weekday, the morning anglers had packed up and gone, and since it was not yet summer, the water was still too frigid for all but the hardiest Arizonans.

  “Here we are,” I announced.

  “It’s amazing. The view is out of this world, and the water is so dark and clear.”

  “It’s cool, too. We’re just below the Apache Lake dam. You can swim if you’d like to, or not, but I’m going in.” I pulled off my t-shirt, stepped carefully onto the stern of the boat, dove and then swam as rapidly as I could for about fifty yards in an attempt to adjust to the chilly water, finally stopping and shouting, “Ouch! It’s a little colder than I expected!” My voice reverberated off the cliffs a second later.

  Jessie gleefully yelled, “Echo” and laughed at her own echo. Then, she shed her cover-up, stepped onto the bow and attempted a cannonball. Her feet slipped at the last instant, and she hit the water awkwardly with a loud splat that reverberated from the cliff walls, prompting me to laugh heartily.

  As she cut choppily through the water toward me, my mind flashed back to Beth gliding like an Olympian, the water barely breaking around her as she swam an effortless freestyle. Thankfully, the memory faded when Jessie, shivering uncontrollably, and covered head to toe in goose bumps, wrapped her arms and legs around me in a desperate attempt to warm herself.

  “You couldn’t have waited a few more weeks for the water to warm up, could you?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

  “I thought you were a tomboy.”

  “This is beyond tomboy.”

  “What say we race back?”

  “You’re on.”

  She was not as skilled a swimmer as me, but she had more endurance and nearly beat me. I pulled myself into the boat first and then helped her, and we both fell gasping onto the deck.

  “I’d have whipped your ass if we were running or biking. I’ve never been the greatest swimmer,” she said.

  “I don’t doubt it. I took a stroke class for years, so I had
a leg up on you. If not for that, you’d have beaten me for sure.”

  We huddled together, wrapped in towels, trying to get warm. After catching our breath, one thing led to another, and we ended up making love, which proved an interesting challenge in the small runabout. We lay side by side after that with our feet propped on the rear bench seat in front of the outboard engine, watching the sky framed by towering cliffs spin slowly from the perspective of the unmoored boat.

  “I’ve been wondering… What do you see in me?” I asked.

  “I see someone like me: brave and forward thinking. But it’s more than that. I’ve always felt a deep connection to you from the start.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that I’m old enough to be your father?”

  “It just means that we need to make good use of what little time you have left,” she chuckled.

  “Good one. Thanks a lot. What about me being married?”

  “I’ve always gone for the things I wanted. I’m a doer, not a thinker; and after I changed, I’m even more determined than ever. Some people say I’m a little overpowering. I just smile. Maybe what I did makes me morally bankrupt, but I told you my story. I couldn’t walk away from you. I can’t blame you for backing off after what happened with your wife. I don’t know where you stand now, but if you want me, you’ve got me. If you don’t, I’ll be fine. But look at us today. Could it get any better than this?”

  “I feel like the luckiest man alive.” She grinned and snuggled closer.

  “I’m starved. What have you got in that cooler?”

  I broke out sandwiches, snacks, fruit and some mini bottles of champagne. We ate and then toasted each other, clinking the tiny bottles, and then we continued talking.

  “About your marriage, I had no intention of breaking it up. I mistakenly assumed it would work out for all of us somehow. I apologize for the grief I caused you and Beth.”