“Perhaps you'd better fish and I cook.”
“With the temperamental stove I have, a man's place is the kitchen. You get the fish—I hope.” I cleaned out the pots and dishes, put a can of spinach on to boil, fried some spuds, and set the table—on the deck.
Laurie had both lines out and laughed like a kid when she brought in a fish that looked like a yellow perch—dark olive in color with patches of bright gold—and at least a pound. While I cleaned that, she hooked a small eel and took off the line without screaming—and threw it back. While I was telling her eels were good eating, she lost a nibble on one line, but landed a striped mullet that was big enough to eat.
“Now will you shut up?” she asked, taking in her lines.
Seeing the sinkers reminded me of Anita, gave me the shivers for a second, as I cleaned the fish, tossed the both of them into the hot frying pan.
Within a few minutes we were eating fresh fried fish, potatoes, and spinach, and sipping two fairly cold highballs. I had the radio going—and not only for the music, but the news—although finding Louise's body might not make the radio news.
It was all very quiet and peaceful and I forgot Anita and Louise as we lit cigarettes, had another drink. For some reason I thought of Mrs. Brody, wondered if being married to Laurie would give us the life the Brodys had, and whether I wanted it or not. “This Mrs. Brody, was she happy, I mean, she and Brody?”
“What makes you ask that? Guess she was happy—or beaten down by boredom. You know, Hal, this isn't bad, the boat and all, be a lot of fun under different circumstances.”
“Lot of fun now. I believe in taking your fun when you can—don't get too many opportunities these days.”
“Hal, please don't spoil things, don't start pitching.”
“I won't. Those clouds over the moon ruined my seduction scene. Hope we don't have rain.”
Laurie was silent for a moment. I put some water on—to wash the dishes—and she said, “Can't quite make you out. This morning, when I first saw you, I didn't trust you. And when you hit that man, I almost hated you because you seemed so... so... brutal. Now, I find myself liking you, your boat. And you suddenly ask about Mrs. Brody's happiness, and sometimes I think you're making fun of me.”
“Never make fun of anybody. Being a half-pint I know how cruel such 'fun' can be. Couple things I don't understand about you.... How come no boyfriends?”
“Tennis kept me busy.”
“That
busy?”
“Oh, what spare time I had was spent with Father, and he was rather strict and old-fashioned... about boys. I want romance, some day, but frankly, so far it's never bothered me. In high school, even around the courts, I'd hear girls talk about kissing and dating, and it never made my heart beat faster, or any junk like that. Or, at dances, I never let a fellow kiss me. I really had no desire for...
We were sitting side by side and I turned and kissed her full on the lips, held her tightly. For a second she was stiff with surprise, then her lips answered the pressure of mine, her hand circled my neck, the nails digging into my skin. Then—she pulled away and when I still held her she placed her thumb under my left ear and began to press. I let go damn fast. She jumped to her feet.
“I told you...!”
“Relax, Laurie, a minor turn has been made in the history of Laurie Shelton—you've been kissed. Now don't fly off the handle, it was pleasant and...”
“Pleasant? You conceited fool, I hated it!”
“Don't shout—sound carries over water. And if you hated it, how do you account for this?” I turned my back to show her the blood on the back of my neck.
“That was only a... a...”
“Only a little passion. Look, grow up, admit you like being kissed, that you have passion. Doesn't mean you go for me, but there's no point in hiding things, pretending you're made of ice. All I do around you is apologize, explain....”
“If you'd stop this stupid pawing and...”
“Okay, let's wash the dishes and skip the East Lynne bunko.”
She helped with the dishes, acting mad and sullen. It was after eleven and I tossed a couple of sheets on her bunk, told her, “You'll sleep here. I'll be on the other bunk and you can have a gun, every knife on the boat, to protect yourself.”
“So funny! Ha! Ha! I'll sleep on the deck.”
“It's all yours, but I'll make up the bunk—in case you change your mind.”
We went back on deck and it was windy and cloudy. I started the engine, gave her the wheel while I pulled up anchor. We headed down the Hudson. I told her, “To be on the safe side, we'll head for the bay, anchor off Staten island. Here, somebody could swim out from the shore, take a pot shot at us.”
Still sulking, she didn't say a mumbling word, made herself another highball, got an old sweater of mine out of the cabin, and put that on and sipped her drink. It was slack tide and we made good time. I kept to the New Jersey shore, stopped at a gas station near Edgewater, filled the tank, got some water and ice.
18
The RAIN BEGAN as we passed the Battery and it was really coming down so hard I could barely make out the Statue of Liberty. The wind had picked up and we bounced around on long, gliding waves. It would be calm for an ocean liner, but my thirty-four-foot boat was rocking like a cork.
Laurie was so quiet I didn't realize at first that she was seasick. When the rain started I sent her into the cabin, but she soon came dashing out, her face a sweaty, dirty, pale green, and gave up—happily not against the wind. I told her, “Get inside. No point in both of us getting wet.”
She shook her head, said in a far-off voice, “Lord, feel awful. Never felt this sick before. Can't stand it in the cabin—too muggy.”
“Be better off if you lie down,” I said, but she only shook her wet head; stood there staring off into the dark watery night, moaning now and then. The boat was going up and down each wave and I knew how she felt—being seasick is a worse feeling than being real sick. But I couldn't leave the wheel, get her into the cabin.
It took us a long time to cross the bay, finally reach Staten Island. It was rough in the dark, the great hulls of anchored freighters looming up around us, the ferry passing like a ghost, tugs making spooky, haunting sounds with their foghorns, and all the time the boat bouncing like a seesaw. I anchored off an unused pier near the Kill van Kull and the water was fairly calm. The Narrows probably smelled better, but would be rougher. I led Laurie down to her bunk as she kept moaning, “Lord, Lord, I never felt so awfully sick!”
“Sleep will make everything okay. Going to give you some dramamine, quiet your guts, make you sleep.”
“Let me... lie down. I feel... terrible.”
I got half a dramamine pill and a little water and she refused to take it, but I shook her and she swallowed it, mumbled, “Please don't shake me. My... insides are rattling. Want to sleep.”
She started to climb into her bunk but I pulled her up. “You can't sleep in those wet things. Get you some pajamas and...”
“Let me... alone. Feel like I'm... dying.”
“Take it slow, you're not the first person to be seasick. Undress, I'll turn my back and throw you a pair of pajamas.”
She was leaning against the wall, her eyes shut. I turned and opened the chest of drawers under my bunk, heard her getting into bed. Grabbing her, I said, “Want it like this— then stand still.”
She stood there in a daze as I unbuttoned her wet dress, let it drop to her feet. I unhooked her bra and her breasts were firm and small, but surprisingly full. She had on white panties and when I pulled at them, she pushed my hands away. I unrolled her stockings, ran a rough towel over her body, helped her into bed. When she was under the covers I said, “Give me your pants.”
The dramamine had started to work, for she made an effort to get them off, but fell asleep. Reaching under the sheets, I pulled them down her legs and off.