“Not yet,” said Jim. “And I’d like it if they didn’t.”
“Sure,” said Tony. “I dig it. I don’t imagine your dad would be too hot about your fucking with Jeanne’s baby. Hey, you know, it’s statutory rape! How about that?!”
“Go,” said Katya to Jim and Lisa. “Tony, you’re an ass.”
“Statutory rape. Army desertion. I’m witnessing all sorts of crimes.”
“You witness a crime every time you look in a mirror,” said Katya. “Good-bye, kids. I’m glad you’re lovers.”
Jim and Lisa left, the shame and uncertainty that Tony had stirred not dispelled by Katya’s blessing. They stopped for a drink of water in the galley and then soberly climbed the steps to the wheelhouse.
Olly was snoring on a settee while Macklin stood at the wheel, the light of a cigarette casting a brief reddish glimmer on his face. Jim was aware that Macklin had been ordered not to use up any of the cigarettes, and he automatically stopped and looked closely at him.
Macklin didn’t speak, simply returning Jim’s gaze, then looking at Lisa, then back at Jim. Lisa left to go to her cabin with Jeanne. Macklin exhaled a cloud of smoke toward Jim, but the rush of air from the port entranceway blew it aft.
“Have a good time?” Macklin asked.
Jim returned his stare a moment longer and then walked past him and out of the wheelhouse toward his own starboard cabin. His futile rage at Tony and Macklin had him trembling.
Down in the cabin Frank was awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Where you been, Jim?” he asked.
Jim went to the little sink to wash the sweat off his face.
“With Lisa,” he answered after a moment. “Talking…”
His father didn’t say anything for a while. Jim wiped off his face and chest; the salt water still left him sticky.
“I’m glad, Jim,” Frank said. “I mean you and Lisa getting together. Being friends. It’s good.”
Jim, his back to his father, felt a wave of emotion flood him— gratitude to his father, love for Lisa, sympathy for his father’s troubles.
“Thanks, dad,” he said, wiping his face and chest.
“You know,” said Frank, still invisible on his berth, “Jeanne and Lisa and Skip are really part of our family now. We’ve got to take care of them… take care of them just as we would… your mother and Susan.”
In the darkness Jim put the washcloth and towel down on the sink and went to his narrow berth forward of Frank’s.
“They… they’re good people,” Jim said as he climbed up onto the foam mattress.
“They’re family,” said Frank. “Lisa’s your sister.”
Jim pulled the sheet up over his damp, sticky body and pulled off his swim trunks. He felt a chill when his father referred to Lisa as his sister, fearful that Frank was thinking in terms of his relationship with Jeanne and not seeing Lisa as separate, as… a woman.
“Good night, Dad,” he said.
“All of us…” Frank seemed to be saying softly, but Jim didn’t know what he meant, and in another minute he could hear the heavy rasp of his father’s breathing as he slept.
Lying in her berth beside Katya the next morning, Jeanne thought about Neil and about Skippy’s not eating enough and of how gaunt Frank was beginning to look, and about Neil’s thighs and Skippy’s fascination with fish guts, and about Lisa and Jim, and about the planet withering with the plagues unleashed by the war, and about how tired she was of dealing with it all, and about Neil. At times their voyage seemed hopeless; at others selfish and narcissistic. Part of her felt that she ought to be suffering and dying on the mainland with the rest of the world, not falling in love. She wanted to be a nun ministering to the suffering victims of war; she wanted to be naked in Neil’s arms. She wanted to devote her life to bringing up her children so that the world they created would be free of the evil that her generation had unleashed. But she wanted a house, a big double bed, with a supermarket and restaurant next door. She wanted Frank to stop loving her and Neil never to stop. She wanted the world to stop surprising her with its ability to kill people; she wanted to die. No, she wanted to live, to live, to live.
She slipped abruptly out of her berth, and though it was still forty minutes before she was due to feed the two watch teams, she began to dress.
“Hey, what’s the problem?” Katya asked her unexpectedly. “You’ve been tossing and turning as if you were trying to solve the whole world’s problems in one long think.” Resting on one elbow, Katya was looking sleepy-eyed at Jeanne, who stood a few feet away, buttoning her blouse. Katya spoke in a low voice so as not to disturb Lisa and Skip, who were still asleep in the adjoining berth. At five the light was just gathering in the east.
“Restless,” Jeanne answered.
“Men do have that effect, don’t they?” Katya remarked, not accepting the evasive answer. Jeanne stared back but didn’t reply. “Frank and Neil are both coming on to you,” Katya went on, “and you’re interested in Neil. What’s the problem?”
Jeanne leaned down to put on her boat shoes. Although she liked Katya, she was not used to confiding in another woman, especially one she barely knew.
“I don’t think my emotional problems are worth talking about,” she finally said in a low voice.
“They’re worth talking about if you plan keeping me awake every night thinking about them,” Katya replied. “Hey, come on, I’m exactly the person you should talk to.”
Jeanne walked softly to the forward part of the cabin to check that Lisa and Skip were asleep. When she got back, a gentle swell rolled under Vagabond, making her three hulls tip, slide, and roll with a queasy sideways motion that always made Jeanne feel a mild dizziness.
“Have you slept with Neil?” Katya asked after the silence continued.
Unused to such bluntness, Jeanne did not even turn around to face her.
“If you’d like me to vacate this berth and take Skip off your hands today so you and Neil can be alone, I will,” Katya said. “I mean getting it on with a lover on this boat is going to involve a major logistical effort. It’s worse than a girl’s dorm.”
Jeanne turned back to Katya.
“You… and Tony?” she asked.
“Oh, me and Tony are the types that could make it in Grand Central Station… if that’s what I wanted,” Katya replied, smiling sleepily. She sat up and stretched, the sheet sliding off and revealing her small breasts with their long nipples.
Jeanne looked away. “It’s not a problem of privacy,” she said softly.
“Well, tell me what it is,” Katya said. “I promise to give you bad advice, which you can ignore. It’s the telling that will help.”
Jeanne glanced again at her sleeping children and finally, with a rush, began talking.
“Oh, Katya, I love Neil, but it’s no use. It can never work out. It’s so mixed up. I’m fond of Frank too. We’re all a family now, and I can’t do anything that’s going to make Frank bitter and divide us. I just can’t do it.”
Katya, now sitting up. and leaning back against the partition between her berth and Lisa and Skip’s, was brushing out her curly ash-blond hair. When Jeanne stopped talking, Katya frowned.
“So don’t sleep with either of them,” Katya concluded, looking puzzled. “Most men survive. Or they find someone else they can bury their sorrow, and other parts of their anatomy, in.” She looked at Jeanne questioningly.
Jeanne was depressed by this advice. It was excellent advice, but had the flaw of asking her to stay away from Neil.
“Or sleep with both of them,” Katya went on, watching Jeanne carefully.
“No, I can’t do that,” Jeanne said simply.
Katya swung herself out of bed to begin dressing. As she reached into a cubby to get her shorts, she suddenly became irritated.