“That’s it,” says the skinny guy with the beard.
“I’ll walk you to your truck,” Sid says and the three walk away from the boat. They stand by the pickup and chat for a while and then some money changes hands, but it ain’t clear which way it’s flowing. Sid starts back to the boat and the young fellas drive away.
“Who were they?” I ask as Sid steps into the boat.
“Discount gas,” he says. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three. Hey, did you get money from those fellas?”
“That ain’t the way business usually goes. They give me something, I give them money.”
“It just looked like … never mind.”
I’ve got my phonograph plugged in and I’m listening to the song and I’m watching the bugs flying around the lamp on the pier.
“Unplug that thing and let’s go,” says Sid, looking out into the dark Sound.
“Tonight?”
“Best time to travel.” He looks up at the sky. “Good night for cruising.”
I’m unplugging the phonograph. “Ain’t it a little dangerous?”
“The name of the game. That’s what you need, boy, a little excitement in your life.”
I’m back on board.
“Fella named Gödel proved that ain’t no logical system complete. He had to prove it. I could have told him if he’d asked. You need a dash of illogicalness to make your life complete. Untie that rope.”
I untie the rope and then another that Sid points to and I follow him up to the helm.
“German fellas all the time trying to prove things.” The engine is on and we’re moving away from the dock. “Like that fella Heisenberg. He needed a theory to say he wasn’t sure. You’d think people could find better things to work on, like disposable wives.”
“What’s got you so uptight?” I ask him.
“I ain’t uptight.”
“You sure seem nervous.”
“Well, I ain’t.” He looks ahead.
We leave the lights of Seattle behind and we’re following the lights of the coast south and then Sid turns off the running lights.
“What did you do that for?” I ask.
“What?”
“Why’d you kill the lights?”
“Don’t need them.”
I don’t say nothing. I just look ahead into the darkness. After a few minutes I go down into the cabin and climb into bed. I figure Sid will call me when he needs a break.
It was dark and quiet. Daddy, Bud, and I were sitting on the front porch, sweating. The only sounds were crickets and the clinking of ice against the sides of our glasses of tea. Ma had sneaked away earlier. I was flooded with odd and painful concerns. I worried that I was insane like my mother. I was bothered by a smell that I imagined on my fingers from Naomi Watkins. Daddy yawned and looked at his watch.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Daddy asked me.
“Ma.”
Daddy looked away from me and out over the yard. “Don’t worry about her.”
Bud winked at me.
“Maybe Ma could go to one of those doctors for crazy people.”
Daddy shook his head. “White people’s foolishness. Causes more problems that it cures.”
“Well, maybe she should be in a place,” I said.
“Maybe,” Daddy said, slapping a mosquito. “That would get her away from that McCoy.” Daddy looked over at Bud. “How you doing?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Bud paused. “Doc, you sure I’m not in the way?”
“Positive.” Daddy rubbed his glasses across his forehead. “I’m sorry about my wife.”
Bud waved his hand. “Nothing to be sorry about. I mean, she is pretty interesting.”
“She’s that, all right,” Daddy said.
“What is it with this McCoy character?” Bud asked.
Daddy answered, “McCoy’s got this religious group that Kathy, for some reason, is interested in. McCoy makes me nervous. He’s crazy and I wonder how my colored wife fits in with a peckerwood like that.”
“You don’t think he’s dangerous or anything like that, do you?” Bud asked.
“I don’t know,” Daddy replied. “I guess not.”
I began to think of McCoy.
Bud broke the silence. “Seriously, Doc, you think your wife is okay?”
Daddy didn’t say anything. He just looked at the night sky. I didn’t like the pain I saw in his face. He was wearing the same concerned look he wore when I was really sick with the flu. I was seven and they thought I might die and Daddy sat by my bed all night with that look on his face. If I couldn’t hate Ma before, I was closer now.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about France,” Bud said.
“France, huh?” Daddy said.
“Yeah, I’d like to go there. You know, get away from this country. I hear things are different there, real different. People are free.”
I listened carefully to Bud’s words.
“Free. Can you imagine that?” Bud added.
Daddy chuckled and shook his head.
“Yeah, France.” Bud finished his tea and looked at his empty glass. “Think I could make a long boat trip like that, Doc?”
“After a little rest, yeah,” Daddy said.
“After a little rest,” Bud repeated. He got up and he walked into the house and he soon was playing the piano.
I looked at Daddy. “What’s wrong with Mr. Powell?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure is hot, huh, Daddy?”
“Yep.” Daddy paused. “Shit.”
Martin came home and went straight up to our room. When I finally went upstairs, I found him clipping things out of the backs of magazines.
“Sending off for stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What? Soldiers? A kite?”
“None of your business.”
I was trying to make things okay, even though I was upset with him about Naomi and all. I wasn’t really mad as much as upset. He just kept going with the scissors.
Finally, we were in bed. Martin had his flashlight out, the beam moving from nude to nude. He just kept sighing and then he turned the flashlight off and pushed the magazines onto the floor. He tossed the light into the corner and sighed loudly. I closed my eyes.
My eyes open and there’s a little early-morning light floating around the cabin and I see Sid sitting by the bed, looking at me.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Drifting.”
I notice there’s no engine noise. “Drifting? Where?”
“Just drifting.” He’s got a funny look in his eyes.
I sit up and stretch and look out the window and I can’t see the coast.
“You ever think about dying?” Sid asks.
“What?”
“Dying.”
“No.”
“You oughta.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now, what’s the story? The motor act up?”
“This slump of yours really has you down, doesn’t it.”
I don’t say anything.
“Suicide might be a thought.”
I’m up and walking across the cabin to look through the other window. “Where the hell are we?”
“I told you. We’re drifting. We’re contemplating suicide.”
“The hell. Why are we just floating out in the middle of nowhere?”
“If you don’t do it, I will.”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll kill you,” he says.
I laugh.
“I ain’t bullshittin’.”
I stop laughing. “Now, Sid….”
“What do you have to live for? Luck has decided you’re the greatest patsy since the Jews.” He stands up. “So, after this morning’s business, I’ll put an end to your miserable, pathetic life.”
There’s the sound of a foghorn outside and Sid scurries up the steps to the deck. I follow him and I see another boat and Sid is waving to them with both arms.