Part 6 (2/2)
”The crisis point came one night in August last year. I'd been on a bender for five days straight, ran out of booze and tore my house apart, screaming at the top of my lungs. I finally pa.s.sed out, at least that's what they told me at the hospital, where I woke up shaking from the DTs and without a clear thought in my head, except that I wanted a drink.
”It didn't even register when the doctor, a young fellow who reminded me of myself, told me my liver was shot and I was too old to be worth the expense of a transplant. He told me in no uncertain terms I was living on borrowed time and any more alcohol and I'd be dead. I looked into his mercenary eyes and asked him for a tall gla.s.s of 190 proof grain alcohol, the kind they keep under lock and key. 'That ought to do it,' I told him.
”He looked nonplused, to say the least, mumbled something about rehab and left me alone. It was then I received my little epiphany. The man in the bed next to mine told me about Harlan Astor and the t.i.tanic. I thought he must be worse off than me, that he must be raving, but his eyes were clear and his hand on my arm was steady and firm. I asked him, ”How come I've never heard about this before?' and he smiled, 'Because Mr. Astor wants only special people to know and has the money to make sure people keep quiet.'
”Well, I didn't think I was so special, and I told him so. He just laughed and then reached into his bedside table, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. All it had was a telephone number and the phrase: For the voyage of your dreams printed on it. I still thought it was d.a.m.n strange, stranger still because they had a rerun of t.i.tanic on TV that night.
”Bette and I always loved that film. I guess, maybe because we saw a little of ourselves in those two lovers. After it was over, I fell asleep, and when I woke up the next morning, my roommate was gone. I never found out who he was.”
”Is he on the s.h.i.+p?” I asked.
Pierce shook his head. ”No, not that I've been able to ascertain. But after I dried out, I called the number on the business card and an hour later was picked up at the hospital door by a large black limousine. Inside the car was none other than Harlan Astor himself. As soon as he saw me and heard I'd been a sailor, he offered me the captaincy of t.i.tanic. To say the least, I was floored, still not quite believing my good fortune, but he flew me to Gdansk and showed me that it was indeed real, as was the offer.”
”And here you are.”
”And here I am.”
”Forgive me, Captain, but there's something I don't quite understand.” I paused and he nodded for me to continue. ”How is it you were able to get licensed to captain this s.h.i.+p? A forty-foot ketch is not the t.i.tanic.”
”No, it isn't,” he said. ”The first officer is fully-licensed. And I suppose he is the legal captain, insofar as piloting the s.h.i.+p is concerned. Even still, I've learned a great deal in the last few months.”
”Does this give you the same thrill that advertising once did?”
”You're very perceptive. And the answer is: yes. I can't imagine doing anything else.”
”Well, Captain, here's to a long and ill.u.s.trious career.”
He looked at me then, his expression ineffably sad.
”One thing I've learned, young man, is to appreciate what I have right here, right now. We may never have tomorrow.” He paused looking out toward the bow. ”You'll have to excuse me, now, but I must make my rounds.”
I watched him stride from the wheelhouse erect and proud, and I waited until he'd disappeared before reaching for the iPod touch and pressing ”Stop-”
6.
Solly frowned, watching while I ejected the disk from the computer and replaced it into its plastic jewel box. ”Guy sure had it tough.”
I didn't say anything, remembering both the sadness and the joy in Captain Pierce's eyes.
”So, what happened next? Ken asked. ”All you'd gotten from Harlan up to then was his note, right?”
”Right. It was my plan after the Captain's interview to file a dispatch in the radio room and then go down to his stateroom and talk. But I got sidetracked.”
Solly's eyebrows shot up.
”Yeah, how so?”
I yawned then glanced at my watch. ”The club's closing in half an hour. What do you say we call it a night?”
”Come on, Hughes, you can't just leave us hanging like this,” Solly said.
Ken picked up my shoulder case, which I'd forgotten to zip, and the contents spilled out.
”Sorry, Trev,” he said, bending down. He picked up a DVD, his eyes innocently scanning the label. ”Who's Madeleine?”
I took it from him, avoiding his eyes. ”She's not important,” I said, regretting my tone of voice and the words as soon as I'd uttered them.
A sly grin spread across Solly's face. ”Oh, I bet she's plenty important,” he said, chuckling. ”Trevor, here, is just too much the gentleman to kiss and tell, aren't you, Hughes?”
I stood and began packing my computer, shoving the DVDs in after it with quick angry jabs. ”You know, Solly, I put up with you in school because you were always good for a few laughs. Well, you're not funny anymore. You're just a pompous windbag with a lot of money to throw around. I've got news for you, pal, it doesn't impress me.”
Solly jumped to his feet, face mottled pink. ”Just one f.u.c.king minute, Hughes! I worked hard for that dough. And I couldn't give a rat's a.s.s what you think. You owe us!”
”For what? Just because I know something you don't, you feel you have the right to know it?”
”No! Because Harlan was the best friend I ever had, and I want to know why the h.e.l.l he died! Is that so hard for Mr. Big-Shot Writer to understand?”
”Guys, please!” Ken said, his hang-dog face crimped with worry. ”This isn't the place.”
Solly turned on Ken, his mouth twisted into a snarl. ”The h.e.l.l it isn't.”
”He's right, Ken.”
They both turned to me, expressions registering mild surprise. It was a picture that under any other circ.u.mstances would have made me laugh. Now, I was just too d.a.m.ned tired. ”You do have a right to know, as much as any of us. But you don't have the right to unreasonably demand it. We've all had a bit too much to drink, and it's late. How about we meet here tomorrow morning?”
”For a little hair of the dog?” Ken asked.
I did smile then.
”Sure, Ken. You bring the dog.”
Solly grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. ”Sorry about the 'kiss and tell' crack, I didn't mean it.”
”Yes, you did, Solly. The thing is, you're right about that, too. I am too much of a gentleman.”
Without another word, I picked up my shoulder case and left them.
Outside, the air had turned cool and I hurried to the taxi stand near the corner. One of these days I was going to have to break down and buy a car, but not having one was one of those quirks of mine. Besides, in Boston, I didn't really need one.
The ride back to Charlestown was blessedly quick and uneventful.
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