THE HEADACHE STAYED close to the surface this time, so the next day and a half were a bit of a blur for Jerry as he continued west until he could drive no more. He reached Missoula, Montana and found a clean bed and a hot bath, having driven like an automaton, not fully appreciating the stunning snow-dressed scenery as he’d passed through it. His reflexes kept him safe on the road and his body told him when to eat, so it was just miles of asphalt, gas stations, and roadside eateries, which continued the next mentally hazy day all the way to Seattle and up to Port Angeles. He missed the last ferry of the day across to Vancouver Island by a couple hours, so he once again fed Sushi, fed himself, and hit the sack in a convenient motel.
THE PAIN SHE sensed subsided eventually, and beneath the sense of movement within the darkness, there was now an ancient, ceaseless rhythm, a deep pulse like the sea she had once dipped her toes in. She had toes? Maybe not now, but she was certain that she once had, and they had felt the rhythm of waves and the pull of a tide. Serenity enveloped her, and she drifted into something more like a sleep than the usual limbo.
A DENNY’S BREAKFAST of raspberry pancakes and scrambled eggs all smothered in maple syrup fuelled him up for the day, but it took a conversation with ferry-ticket-seller Rachelle—a cute, pierced, and tattooed platinum blonde—to finally drag him away from the world of the living dead and into the light.
“So, dude, we were house-boating up off the Sunshine Coast when Shade, like, was hanging a chummed line off the stern and smoking a home-rolled, when the rod was near yanked from his hand. He stuffed the rolly between his lips and started the fight of his life. He was no rookie, though, dude. He let the line out and let whatever it was run. It didn’t go far, though. Once it thought the threat was gone, it chilled. Shade passed the smoke and started a slow reel in. He’d reel for a minute, feel the resistance build, and let it out. Then he’d reel a bit more, and then let it out. All the time, man, he was pulling it in, closer and closer, tiring it out, wearing it down. Judging by the bend on that deep-sea rod, we figured he had a salmon-and-a-half on the line.
“He danced with this baby for an hour before he finally got it up to the port side where we rushed with the net. We nearly crapped ourselves when we saw it. Man, it was a beauty.”
“What was it? A Coho? Sockeye?”
“Shark, dude.”
“Shark? No way!”
“Way. It was just a little thing, a meter, meter-and-a-half, but it was big enough to snap the line when we tried to get a net under it.”
“Cool.”
“Beyond cool. But that’s life on the Strait, dude.”
The morning was slow, and Rachelle was hopped up on Red Bull and happy to chat chat chat about the Port, and her many visits north to The Island to party with her cousin Rod in Nanaimo. By the time the M.V. Coho ferry pulled out of port with Jerry on the outside deck, he’d rediscovered his smile.
Exhausted, but relaxed, Jerry sat by himself on the deck, in the wan, early morning sun. The light snowfall stopped and the clouds parted, just for his departure, it seemed to him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the sea air, purging the road grime and exhaust fumes of the last five days. Seagulls screeched and wheeled in the sky above the ferry, begging for handouts from the few passengers brave enough to face the near-freezing, moist, winter air of the strait, but Jerry paid no attention to either them nor to the less-than-perfect weather. The thick, tangy, sea breeze intoxicated him, drawing out his exhaustion and scattering it far and wide. With his camera tucked inside his heavy red jacket, and a steaming, hot decaf in his gloved hand, he was at peace. I could get used to being near the ocean, he thought. He took a couple snap shots with his iPhone and emailed them to Isis before sitting back, closing his eyes, and surrendering to the moment completely.
SHORTLY AFTER NINE, Jerry called Manny from the ship.
“Tell me you’re here, Jerry! Tell me my new star station manager is in town!”
“About half-an-hour out, or so one of the regular passengers just told me.”
“The ferry from Tsawassan?”
“From where? I’m coming over from Port Angeles. I drove through the States the whole way.”
“Right-oh, mate. You’re on the Coho, then. Good ship and true and all that. Your flat is all ready for you. You want the address and I’ll meet you there, or do you want to come to the station and pick up the keys?”
“Do you mind meeting me at the apartment? I have it programmed into Maggie-Sue, my GPS. It’s been a long trip and I’d like to clean up before meeting the team at the station. Or are they expecting me today?”
“Tomorrow’s soon enough, young fella. That’s one helluva long drive to do alone, so you take the night. Your stuff has been arriving all week, and the boxes are all sitting in the middle of the flat waiting for you to turn it into a home. I left the furniture like you saw in the photos I emailed over, and we found a couple beauty chairs on the weekend that I’ve tossed in, but don’t feel obligated to take ’em. I’ve got two other rental properties I can use ’em in.”
“Sounds great, Manny. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“You’re one of the family now, Jerry, and family takes care of each other. Besides, I’m going to get my time and money’s worth out of you—there’s a lot of work to be done to get us through this downturn. But all that can wait another day or two, mate. Give me a call when you’re about to dock and I’ll make my way over to the flat.”
“Will do. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Yeah, must do—year end and all. Finally see you in an hour or so, Jerr.”
“Yeah, I guess you will, Manny. I’m looking forward to it.”
Jerry disconnected, dropped the phone back into his pocket, and relaxed. He was tempted to put the headphones on and listen to some soul-fixing jazz, but the hum of the ship’s engine, the cry of the gulls, and the rhythm of the sea were all the music he needed, so far from where he’d started only days before.
MANNY MET JERRY at the apartment, just as promised, and Jerry was knocked speechless by Manny’s sheer tallness. Jerry estimated his new employer to be over six-and-a-half-feet tall and most of it was smile. Right up to the moment Manny grabbed Jerry’s hand in his massive paw and pumped it like an old friend, Jerry was sure the giant Aussie was going to sweep him up in a hug. After the long drive so far from his roots back east, Jerry probably would have been okay with a hug.
“Welcome to the City of Gardens, Jerry. Not many flowers to see now, but give it a few months and it’ll be a bloody riot of colour. But never mind that. I’m so excited, I’m rambling like a schoolgirl. Let’s get you upstairs and settled in, mate.”
“After you, Boss.”
Together the two of them climbed the gently worn, dark-stained oak stairs to the third floor—Jerry holding Sushi’s travel bowl in one hand and his laptop bag in the other, while Manny carried one of Jerry’s bags in a long-fingered hand, and the apartment keys in the other. He led the way up the stairs and stopped at a spacious landing with only two apartments leading off from it.
Unlocking the knob and the deadbolt, Manny reached in, flicked a light switch with his key hand, and stepped back to let Jerry go in first. Half expecting Manny to simply lead the rest of the way into the apartment, Jerry hesitated, afraid there would be a surprise party waiting for him. He had the impression that when Manny said the station staff were as close as a family, he meant that the little things were taken care of, such as welcoming the new team member with a party, like a long-lost relative returned home. He was relieved to find no one waiting, but the relief was quickly replaced by amazement at the beauty of his new digs.