Читать книгу Reconnected - DH Steppler - Страница 6

In the bathroom, I slipped out of my damp clothes and stepped into the shower. After I was clean and dressed, I felt like a new person, a new hungry person. There was no sign of my sister. While waiting for her to return. I went back out to the balcony to dry my hair in the sunlight and to clean up after the storm.

It took only a few minutes to put the balcony into shape again. I sat at the small table and brushed my hair as I munched on the apple retrieved from inside.

As I was rooting around inside the small cooler, looking for more sustenance, Michael walked from his balcony to mine like he owned the place. He sat down in the chair next to me and watched as I pulled out the sunflower seed butter and the multigrain crackers.

I smeared the spread on a cracker and offered it to him. He took it with a smile and popped it into his mouth. I served myself up a cracker as well.

As we sat chewing, I noticed that he too had changed his clothes – he switched from the bright clothes to a pair of khaki shorts, a light colored tee shirt, and thongs; his wet hair was indicative of a shower.

“How’s the noggin?” I asked as I created a mini sandwich with the crackers and the spread.

“Not that swollen but still a bit tender to the touch.” He reported with satisfaction. He took the cracker from my hand and I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination or not but I thought he intentionally brushed my knuckle with his.

“Have you heard from your sister, yet?”

He voice held true concern. Just at that moment the phone rang and I jumped in my seat from the surprise of it. I went indoors to get it before it rang again.

“Room 420, Helen here.” I answered.

It was Denice. She said she was locked in the library with about ten other people when all the lights went out.

“Do you want to meet me at the Horizon Buffet for breakfast?”

I told her I was fine and had already had enough for breakfast. I would be waiting on our balcony when she came back.

“Ok,” she said. “I’m going to get some food and I’ll be back to the stateroom in about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“I look forward to hearing your story.” I told her and said good bye.

When I turned back to the balcony, Michael was still sitting there but then he was smearing his own crackers and munching away.

As I sat down, he held out a dressed cracker to me and I took it.

“This is the most wonderful combination,” he said. “I’ve never even heard of sunflower seed butter before. And I thought I knew all the butters. Like almond butter – my favorite after peanut butter and jelly.”

I smiled as I ate the offered cracker and watched as he resumed his new duty of spreading the crackers and divvying them up for our consumption.

“I’d like some coffee, how about you?” I offered.

“Room service, this is Helen in room 420 on the Aloha deck. I’d like a pot of coffee, two cups and cream, lots of cream please.”

When I returned to the balcony, Michael was no longer sitting in the chair at the table. I decided to clean up and put away the remains of the cracker fixins.

“Hey, wait a minute, I wasn’t finished.”

He sat back down.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked as he tapped out a single cigarette from a new pack.

“I seemed to have lost my lighter, may I borrow yours?”

Reaching down and into the cooler and then into my Pinky – the name of the container that houses my pot and paraphernalia, I pulled out a black lighter and handed it to him.

“I think this belongs to you. I took it mistakenly from your pocket last night. I thought you had stolen it from me. Sorry.” I finished sheepishly.

He shrugged and lit his cigarette with the tiniest of flames from the dying lighter. I instantly envied him the smoke taste mixed with the sunflower seed butter. I knew it was a great combination and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Hmmm,” He said, “That’s really good.”

I nearly asked him to share but I know me and I didn’t stop smoking all those years before to start again then.

I was thinking that he shouldn’t be smoking; it’d ruin his voice in his later years. But I said nothing. I just enjoyed the smell of the smoke and the kiss of the sun on my skin.

We sat in relative quiet while he finished his cigarette. I think both of us were happy for the peace and the warmth and the light and each other. It was a gentle camaraderie. We were glad of the quiet but also glad for the company.

Neither one of us had spoken for a long time, both wrapped in our own thoughts. I heard a rap on the door and, “room service.” I claimed our coffee and took it to the balcony where Michael poured two cups. I doctored mine with cream but he took his black. We sat with no words, just the comfort of the coffee and the peace.

We didn’t even notice that Denice was standing in the doorway of the slider until she spoke.

“Quite a night; wouldn’t you say?”

Everything looked benign compared to her animated face. She crossed the few steps to get to me and handed me my copy of the “Princess Patter” and a highlighter to select our activities for the day – the routine, always the routine.

As I accepted them from her, I said, “Denice this is our neighbor Michael. Michael, this is my sister and best friend, Denice.”

He stood up and shook her hand, looked around for another chair, then disappeared into his side, returning in just a sec with a third chair. He held it while my sister sat. Then he returned to the chair next to me.

The three of us sat there amicably while I explained our routine with the newsletter to Michael. He and I went through the daily calendar of events together, one by one. I used my highlighter for the movie under the stars that started at 8:00 pm.

When it was obvious that I was finished with my selections – there was only the one - he took the highlighter from my hand and marked out the 10:00 theater show, then looked at me expectantly. I smiled and shrugged. “Sure,” using a quiet voice – not loud enough for my sister to hear. He returned my smile.

We had more quiet as my sister finished her selections. When she finally finished, she examined my highlights and compared them to her own.

As I had nothing marked until the evening, I was thinking of spending the day right where I was or a bit more in the shade. She had plans with the line dance people again which was included in her highlights – a pottery class that we both said we would take if we ever took that cruise again. She was surprised to see that I hadn’t highlighted it but made no remark out loud. She was probably thinking that I had changed my mind – something we both allow each other without argument.

She looked at her watch and said, “I have to hurry. It’s nice to meet you, Michael. Hellie, I’ll be taking off soon.” Then she disappeared into the stateroom.

Michael and I just sat there comfortably without saying much. I eventually put the CD player on the table and spread out the CDs available. Michael looked through the CDs to discover that I had four of his in the collection. That seemed to please him. But he was more interested in the Paul Gross and Los Lonely Boys CDs.

He said, “I remember you playing this last night. Can we hear it again?” Without waiting for a response, he loaded Los Lonely Boys into the player and pushed play. We listened and even moved a bit to the beat. I could see that he was enjoying the music.

“You are my little senorita, El que la moss Bonita; you’ve got it going on.”

I can never keep my mouth shut entirely and sang along to the lyrics that I could pronounce.

“This doesn’t have to be so loud for you to get the tune right. Did you notice?” He said with a very odd sense of understanding. I thought how could he know that? Oh, duh, it’s his business. We sat quietly again until the end of the CD.

“Do you have anything else by them?” He asked.

I surveyed the CDs on the table and then went inside to find the rest of what I brought with me. Yes. I had two more Los Lonely Boys CDs. But I brought everything I had out to the balcony: Along with the Los Lonely Boys, there were: 2 from Van Morrison, Grass Roots, Police, Duran Duran, U2, Katy Perry, the Boss, Foreigner, Steve Miller, and Simply Red.

Again, Michael spread the compilation out on the table to take it all in. “Interesting collection.”

He selected another Los Lonely Boys CD for the player.

In a comfortable vacuum, we listened to the other two Los Lonely Boys CDs.

It was nearly noon and the sun was hot and unrelenting. We moved the table and chairs back to the deeper part of the balcony. The shade offered immediate relief but I dug for the sunscreen dutifully. After slathering the sunscreen on my face and neck and then my arms, I gave the tube to Michael and I watched him do the same. Michael moved one of the chaise lounge chairs into the sun, removed his shirt, and stretched belly down on the chair. “Do you mind?” He asked as he handed me the sunscreen.

I squeezed out a large amount of the white greasy emollient all over his back. Scooting my chair closer to him for convenience, I rubbed the liquid sun shield onto every part of bare skin within my reach. It took a long time to rub in all of that cream. I had so much sunscreen to work with that I took it from his back to rub onto his legs and feet.

Yes, he’s ticklish, discovered while paying particular attention to his feet and toes.

“Never mind the feet.” He said to dismiss me from continuing.

Pretending as though I didn’t hear it, I continued to rub in the lotion. He kicked around a bit but, I held on tight until I was thoroughly finished. He was laughing and kicking at me before I was done.

“My feet are very sensitive.”

He tried to explain. Ya think? I was laughing but I gave him his foot back. He slumped himself into a very relaxed position. He’d be sweating hard in no time. He asked me to select another CD for the player.

My choice was Van Morrison. As the music played, I dug around for something to drink and took out two waters. I handed him a bottle of cold water.

“You getting hungry for lunch?”

“In about an hour.” He mumbled through his laziness.

After an hour, I woke him up.

“No matter how strong that sunscreen, if you are in the hot sun long enough you will burn. Michael, it’s time to move.” I suggested.

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. He sat up and put his tee shirt back on.

“Did I hear something about lunch? Should we have lunch now?”

I picked up the phone and called room service for cheese burgers and French fries with some fruit and jello for dessert.

“What would you like to drink?” I called over my shoulder.

“I’ll grab something from the mini bar. Would you like something?” He countered.

“Diet coke?”

“Sounds good.”

After I placed the order, we straightened up the balcony. I packed a bowl for after lunch. Michael selected another CD – Simply Red. And we waited. I sipped on my soda and relaxed with my eyes closed.

“This fella has a lovely voice don’t you think?” I said nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah, this is a great record.” He replied.

Neither of us spoke again until the room service staff set up our lunch, supplied us with the necessary condiments, collected their tip, and left the cabin.

The lunch table was set deep into the alee of the balcony so I felt protected enough to light up the bowl. Michael was building his cheese burger from the stuff that was on his plate, but he stopped to take his turn with the pipe. He took the hit, coughed, and handed it back to me. Again, we passed it back and forth until the bowl held only dust.

I set the pipe in its ‘Pinky’ and organized my burger. Michael gave me his tomato and I gave him my pickles. We both finished about the same time as did the Simply Red tune ‘Money’s Too Tight to Mention’.

After the clean up and the tray was secured outside my door, we imbibed in another bowl. Michael got up from his chair.

“It’s about time that I gave you some space. I’m sorry if I have been wearing out my welcome.”

“Honestly, Michael, not a problem. I’ve been doing exactly what I planned and I am surprised how easy it is to sit with you.”

He took the comment as an invitation.

“Ok. I’ll get some of the CDs that I brought with me.”

He went to the narrow wall between our balconies and pushed the door open as wide as it would go. Next he took a heavy chair from his stateroom and propped the door open. I could hear him rooting around for a short time, and then he came out with a short stack of CDs.

“Any of those yours,” I ribbed.

“I think you brought all of mine.” He said and then he winked.

We spread his CDs out on the cleared table. He had some interesting albums and covered just about every genre of music. He had: A classical CD with a compilation of many composers; 2 country and western CDs – Carrie Underwood and Shania Twain; Herb Alpert; Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald; Dave Mathews; Percy Faith; John Phillips Sousa; 3 Best Of pop albums – The best of the 50s, The best of the 60s and The best of the 70s – Time Life compilations; Sammy Davis, Jr. There were a dozen CDs in all.

My turn to be amazed, I said, “interesting collection.” Michael laughed a short little ‘I know’ laugh.

“Why don’t you choose; I like them all.” He suggested.

Because I was surprised to see marching music in the middle of everything, I picked up the John Phillip Sousa and put it in the player. I turned down the volume a bit because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Michael reached over to the player and wrapped his fingers around mine and the volume control. I had no choice but to bring the volume back up.

When he removed his hand from mine, I felt a very slight hesitation and his fingers brushed over the skin on the back of my hand. Was that intentional? What was he thinking?

I was thinking about what that felt like when Denice appeared at the slider again without notice from either Michael or me. She took the one step to claim the empty chair. Her face was directly across the table from me and I could see some new excitement broiling on the surface. She needed, wanted to talk about it. Let’s see, was she ok with talking in front of Michael. I hoped so; I didn’t want to send him away and interrupt our special calmness.

“Hey, Ma Soeure, I greeted her with the enthusiasm appropriate for the level of excitement she emanated.

“Hi Hellie; hi Mike, so what’s new?”

She looked at me with a ‘got stuff to tell?’ look in her eyes. I kind of cringed at the use of a nick name for Michael but he didn’t seem to react except to mirror her greeting with a simple “Hi.”

“Our day has been pretty quiet – just listening to music and enjoying the sun and sea.” I informed her.

“You look like you are about to bust at the seams. What’s the story, morning glory?”

She took a long breath before she began. I peeked quickly at Michael before she launched into her story. He was smiling and looking at her with expectation in his eyes. I focused my attention back to Denice.

“Remember my line-dance friends?”

She asked but didn’t really expect an answer, so I said nothing, just listened dutifully.

“Anyway,” she continued.

“There are five of them, two couples and one man by himself. I joined the group to make it even so that Manny had a dance partner. I really want to tell you about Manny. He is short and kind of stocky, which you know suits me just fine. I think he might be a few years behind me, which you know is ok with me, too.”

She paused for a brief moment before she went on.

“Hellie, he’s an engineer for the city of San Diego.”

She nearly wailed the last sentence.

Michael looked at me for clarification. I touched his hand absently and explained.

“Her ex-husband is an engineer for the city of Los Angeles – similarities freak her out sometimes.”

“Is he anything like Frank?”

I encouraged her; I needed more information than that to be able to understand what the excitement was all about.

“Actually, yes,” She said.

“But that’s ok; Frank is a pretty nice guy and so is Manny.”

“I think he likes me, a lot!” She gushed.

“How so,” I prompted.

“He asked me to dinner tonight. I said yes. Do you mind? I know that you wanted a formal dinning experience last night, and that didn’t happen.”

She put it all out there. Her concern for me was obvious but really misplaced.

“MaSoeure, what kind of question is that? You know I don’t mind.” I said.

“Oh honey, no worries. I just wanted a chance to wear the new blue cocktail dress and there is plenty of time for that.”

“Go.” I said. “Enjoy your engineer. Are you dinning at their table?”

“He’s taking me to Sabatini’s. Our reservation is at 7:30.”

She said the last bit as she looked at her watch.

“It’s 5:45 right now. I’m going to have to talk to you later; I’ve got to get ready.”

She took herself and her excitement into the stateroom and disappeared.

The march on the CD filled in the space that she left and I settled again to listen.

“I guess that makes you free for dinner.” Michael said as he reached for my hand.

“How about you have dinner with me tonight, on my balcony? I wouldn’t mind seeing that new dress.”

He squeezed my hand ever so slightly and smiled a sweet little pleading smile. Not waiting for my verbal answer, the slight nod of my head was enough for him to say, as he leapt to his feet, “I’ll pick you up at 8:00” and disappeared through the small balcony-divider door and into his stateroom.

He left me sitting there with a ‘what was that’ look on my face. Well, I’ll have to think about that. Let’s face it; I’m always a bit suspicious when a man wants to spend time with me. I’m not like my sister; men aren’t drawn to me. I’m not pretty – I’ve been called ‘handsome’ and attractive’ a couple times but never pretty, though I did get a ‘she’s so cute’ one time. But I think that had more to do with my personality than my looks. My looks aren’t an issue for me because I like the things about myself that are different than other women. I like that my ears are large and stick out from my head – really only one of them sticks out. I don’t care that my feet are tiny or that my boobs are big. But, all of those things together create the person that I am which, let’s face it again, scares off just about any man.

Men don’t take the time to even talk to you if you aren’t symmetrical. Scientifically it has something to do with carrying on the species. It’s kind of like God telling men that if you can’t figure out what you want, here’s your cheater card - look for someone who’s even on both sides.

I’m not lacking in male friends; actually I have quite a few. These are men who had no choice but to spend time with me because of work and were forced to get to know me for more than my physical appearance and now make it a point to talk to me on a daily basis about stuff that has nothing what so ever to do with work. I like that they are my friends and that they value my opinion and seek my advice.

I can carry on a decent conversation on most subjects other than rocket science and that’s only because I’m afraid of any talk about quantum physics. I recognize and appreciate a good joke, dirty jokes included. Like every one I’ve ever known, I love to laugh. I’m not without wit and humor, myself. I’m coordinated and have rhythm; I can dance. I’m not lonely but sometimes I’m sad. I have a personal mission statement that is lofty and I honestly work at making it true every minute of my life. Again, I like that they recognize and value some things about me that I like personally.

Those friendly relationships were not and have never been anything other than innocent, completely lacking in carnal knowledge. I am bound by my marriage vows.

What I knew about Michael was: he spent the night semi-unconscious in my lap; he remembered me; he liked my hands; he’s easy to enjoy the music and the balcony with; he wasn’t averse to a nice bowl now and then; he’s comfortable to be high with; he spent the entire day with me and he still wasn’t done with me.

For me, being with him was enjoyable, maybe more enjoyable than being alone. Being alone is usually my favorite thing.

The balcony was empty and mine again. I went to the rail to let the wind blow on my face for a few minutes and to think about the night before and to think about what was happening right then.

Done with the marching music, I slid ‘the best of the 60s’ into the machine to listen while I waited for my sister to vacate the bathroom.

‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ made me smile and remember back when I was a kid when the Beatles were on the Ed Sullivan Show. Mother was threatening to turn off the set because their hair was too long. I mean really, how sweet the song, how innocent and pure and simple the lyrics. The contrast in young people’s music between then and now is mind boggling. These days, it’s nothing to hear very vulgar lyrics, even profanity. “You Want Some Pussy?” or “It’s All About the Dick.” Granted, not all the newer music is vulgar and, luckily, if you hear stuff you don’t like or find offensive, there’s usually an off switch. I’m just saying that the difference between the music that I grew up with and what the kids were listening to is big.

How could I not be partial to the early years of pop when love was something to be revered and put into sweet lyrics of longing?

I was just thinking about ‘liking big butts’ when I lost my train of thought; Denice opened the slider a bit more forcefully than necessary; it rattled as it banged hard on the opposite side, sending it back the way it came, nearly closing itself. That woman does not know her own strength or she’s unhappy about something.

She stood there in the doorway with half of her head covered in hair rollers and mouthed the word “Help!” at me like I was the person who could save her life.

“Do the back for me, will ya? Please,” she said as she cooed and handed me a hot roller. Ok, evidence of her weirdness – we are, after all, related – but who coos to get their way – answer, she does. One day I’ll tell her that the cooing is not getting her what she wants, I just want her to get what she wants, so I’ll always give it to her, and would even if she never cooed again.

Did the rest of her hair, cleaned up the balcony, and took a shower before she was ready to remove her rollers. I removed the rollers for her, putting them right back on the hot posts to reheat for my use. Then I sat down on the corner of my bed to give her more room to move around as she needed to finish getting ready.

‘I’ll just lean back and close my eyes for a few minutes.’ I told my self just before I went under.

“Hellie, Hellie, come check me out – critic me, please.”

Denice cooed as she gave me a shake. She went to the bathroom, when it didn’t look like I was going to be able to wake up, and came back with a cold compress for my eyes and forehead. It worked.

A sweet vision that is my sister is what I opened my eyes to. She was wearing a long sundress that was a swirl with bright green and blues. Her shiny hair, thick salt and pepper hair, tumbled down past her shoulders in hearty curls, held back on one side of her head with a clip of white gardenias. She wore a bright white sparkly shawl over her arm – very light – it stretched out when in use to a lovely lattice stitch.

She did a pirouette so that I could see her from all angles. I fussed a bit with the back of her hair and pronounced her ready for an evening of fun. We stood side by side looking in the mirror at her reflection for nearly a minute before she lifted her eyes to my eyes in the mirror. The question in her eyes was answered without a spoken word by my heart as I smiled and gave her a squeeze. ‘Yes, she was perfect’.

“Hellie, if he asks me back to his place, I’m probably gonna go.”

She was somewhat embarrassed to mention that little side bar, so she said it in a very quiet voice and made for the door.

“Wait an ever-loving minute.” I stopped her cold. “I’m going to need a bit more information than that. I need to know: what’s Manny’s full name; what’s his deck and cabin number; where he’s from; is he married; what’s his religion; what’s his yearly income? Come on Ma Seoure, safety first, safety first!”

“Yea, you’re right, I won’t stay out all night.”

She cooed as she wrote Manny’s name, number, and cabin location on one of the pieces of the ship’s stationary and then she was gone in a cloud of ‘Heaven Scent.’