Saturday night things got ... complicated.
Chapter 67: Complicated
Every evening we would go out to dinner. There are a number of small inns and restaurants in Governors Harbor, although none of them are very fancy. A lot of them are just bars that offer food, usually seafood. That was fine; we didn't have to get dressed up and we both loved seafood. Besides, the island is pretty small. It stretches almost 90 miles long, but is really just a big beach in the middle of the ocean, and there are maybe 10,000 residents in about a dozen little towns up and down the length of the island. The biggest is Governors Harbor, but that can't be more than a few thousand people, with the rest spread all over, and the only industry around is fleecing Yankees of their dollars.
So we helped them out by going to dinner every night and having a few drinks in the bar. After dinner we often would go back into the bar for a few more drinks, or maybe find a different bar and have a few drinks there. I kept my drinking under control, but didn't mind if Marilyn wanted to get a little crazy. Friday night, in particular, we stayed out late, after the storm had passed, and did a little bar hopping. Like any vacation town, weekends are the crazy nights, and my wife was no exception. On the way home she got silly and began playing with herself and demanded that I pull off the road and take care of her. Always a gentleman, I did just what she asked me to do!
Saturday Mrs. Wilkes was away, so we had the place to ourselves. We did the dinner and bar hopping routine again, this time parking in a central spot in Governors Harbor and walking from bar to bar. We would have one drink in each bar and then move along, seeing the sights and simply enjoying the beautiful Caribbean night. Over dinner, Marilyn said, "I almost wish we didn't have to go home."
"Charlie might notice in a few years, don't you think?"
"I said almost. We'll have to bring him down here some day." I simply smiled and nodded, but I didn't answer, so she asked, "You don't agree?"
"No, I agree. He'd love it. What kid wouldn't?"
"Do you think we could do that sometime?"
"Sure.", I told her. "Whenever you want to. At least until he gets in school."
That made her smile, but then she gave me a curious look. "By then we'll probably have another child or two. What about then?"
"What about what? If we bring one down, we'll probably have to bring them all down."
Marilyn nodded. "Here?"
"Wherever. Listen, give me a few years and we'll buy a place down here. How about that?"
That shocked her. Her mouth opened and nothing came out! Finally she said, "We can do that?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Here?"
I shrugged. "If you want to. Let's look at a few other places first, before we get too attached to any one place."
"Oh."
"Let's make a deal. For every family vacation we take, let's also take a mommy and daddy vacation, like this one! For the next few years we'll try different places. When we find an island we like, we can buy a place."
"Can we afford that?! I mean, can you afford that?" She gave me an odd look as she asked that question.
"I can afford it, which means that we can afford it. Still, I'd prefer to wait a few more years. How about we wait until I'm worth about a hundred?"
"A hundred?"
"A hundred million. Probably another two or three years. Shouldn't be any longer than that. I don't know what these places cost, but they have to be more than our place back home."
Marilyn stared at me briefly, and then just smiled and shook her head. "Do you hear the way you talk? A hundred million dollars? What was your original plan? To become the first billionaire artillery captain in history?"
I had to laugh at that. When she said it that way, it really sounded ridiculous. "Nah, I'd be at least a major by the time that happened!" We both had a laugh at that, but then I commented, "Actually, I wouldn't be the first billionaire in the service. You know who Sam Walton is?" Marilyn gave me a curious look and shook her head. "He's the guy who started Wal-Mart and he made a fortune doing it. One of his kids didn't want the corporate life and went into the Army. He was a Green Beret in Nam, I think. I know he got a Silver Star."
"Huh. You know what that means?"
"What?"
"That you weren't the only screwed up guy in the Army!", she laughed.
I had to laugh. "Not hardly!"
We finished our dinner, and I asked Marilyn again if she had thought about the house back in Westminster. I had packed our housing plans books and I told her we would have to look at them in the morning. Marilyn has a horrible tendency towards procrastination. She was perfectly happy with being presented with a fait accompli that she could complain about for the rest of her life, and beyond.
After dinner we started walking, going from oceanfront bar to oceanfront bar. It was Saturday night in the islands, and things were kind of loose. For some people it was their first night on the loose, for others it was their last chance to get nuts before heading back to the States. We were the oddity, people going from midweek to midweek. Eleuthera isn't a big tourist spot relative to Nassau, but there are still a number of small resorts and hotels, and you can fly there direct from Miami without having to change planes in Nassau. The crazy and rich Americans were on the loose, and the locals were out in force to help them get more crazy and less rich.
It was after eleven when we entered a place called Blackbeard's Parrot. Lots of fake pirate crap on the walls, lots of drunken American tourists at the tables and the bars. By midnight all the casual people had packed it in and gone back to their hotel rooms, you know, the thirty-somethings who went out for a drink while the kids watched television and slept. Now it was the hard partiers. I was ready to pack it in myself, but Marilyn was having a fine time, and ordered herself another rum punch every time the waitress came around.
I was still nursing my drink, although my wife was on her third, and I laughed as she came back from the ladies room and joined a conga line that was snaking its way through the room. When she came back, she ordered another rum punch. "You are going to be sorry for that tomorrow morning!", I yelled to her over the din.
Marilyn laughed. She had worn a sundress with a tube top tonight, and she jiggled her tits at me inside the dress. "You're an old fuddy duddy!", she replied. When I rolled my eyes at her and groaned she just laughed some more.
"Here, your turn to watch your shit." I pushed her purse across the table. "Nature calls and I have to answer." I stood up and headed towards the back of the bar, past a young blonde laying on the bar with her boyfriend doing tequila shots from her belly button. Christ, what next? Jell-O shots? I kept moving back to the bathroom.
It felt like I was standing there at the urinal about a year, pissing everything out that I had been drinking since dawn. Eventually, a gallon or two lighter, I zipped up and headed over to the sink and combed my hair. No, I didn't wash my hands. Old joke:
Two fellows go into a bathroom and take a leak side by side. Afterwards one guy goes and washes his hands. When he notices the other guy leave without washing up, he says, 'When I was at Harvard, I was taught to wash my hands after going to the bathroom!' The second guy nods and goes, 'Well, when I was at Rensselaer, I was taught not to piss on my hands.'