Joe Lansdale: Captains Outrageous

“On that note…”

I carried the drinks back to the table.

“I’m glad you took the money,” Leonard said, “because now I get to go on vacation, and I say we go on a real one.”

“What about me?” John asked.

“See you when I get back,” Leonard said, smiling, patting John’s hand again.

I actually went back to work at the chicken plant for a couple weeks, made arrangements for time off. I felt guilty about the whole thing, taking off a month with a hundred thousand dollars because I had saved someone’s life. I felt more mercenary than heroic. Leonard, who had done nothing, felt great. He wanted a vacation.

A week into my two-week notice of vacation, me, Leonard, and John made plans at my duplex while I cooked, and slightly burned, a pizza.

John’s suggestion: a cruise.

“A cruise?” Leonard said. “You mean, hang out with a bunch of rich old people who want to look at countries from a boat so they don’t have to deal with other cultures? Man, you know I saw somewhere one of those cruise lines is making their own island. You know, like Fantasy Island meets Love Boat. This way you don’t have to deal with those pesky locals. Don’t have to have a nigger rub up against you.”

“They’re not all like that,” John said. “Most of them stop in different countries for a day or two. Thing is, it would be relaxing. And you could actually go some places you might not go, might not could afford to go to. These cruise lines, you can pay a thousand apiece, plus some expenses, and you get all your food and lodging provided. It comes out about like a good hotel with room service.”

“Maybe just a month off around here is good enough,” I said. “It’ll save me money.”

“Yeah,” Leonard said, “this place is swinging. Besides, I’ve spent enough money on you, now it’s time you spent some on me.”

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s very friendly.”

“It’s true.”

“Didn’t I just give you a quarter for a soda the other night?”

“Yeah, and I’m forever grateful.”

“Look, I got some stuff here.” John, who was dressed in a sports coat, as usual, took a folder out of his inside pocket. “This isn’t one of the big cruise lines. In fact, the boat is an old Argentine Navy boat that’s been revamped for cruises. It’s not real expensive.”

“Man, you been thinking about this cruise stuff yourself,” Leonard said.

“For years, to be honest.”

“Go with us,” I said.

“Hey, I’m not fishing,” John said. “I couldn’t go if I wanted. No one’s giving me time off where I am. I spent that time already. I got to be around. But you could maybe go on the cruise and tell me about it. Turns out all right for you two, I might could take one. Me and Leonard might could take one. Something romantic.”

“Leonard’s about as romantic as a hand job,” I said.

“I’ll ignore that,” Leonard said. “So, John, we’re the cruise guinea pigs.”

“Kinda,” John said.

I eyeballed the brochure. I had never really considered, or even thought about a cruise, but now the idea was starting to appeal. “Maybe it’s too late to get on this one, it leaves, what? Two weeks?”

“You could call them,” John said. “Their number is on the brochure.”

I’m not exactly sure why I was convinced to do the cruise, maybe because it was so alien to me. The closest my family had ever come to a cruise was a rowboat down the Sabine River with fishing poles.

At first I thought spending a few thousand dollars for such was foolish. That was a good chunk out of the hundred-thousand-dollar check, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. I wanted to step outside my life and enter into another. I wanted to leave chickens and disappointment behind. It wasn’t like I was leaving anything of importance, even Brett was out of the picture. It might be nice to masturbate in an exotic location for a change.

Growing up, my parents had continually put aside things like trips, vacations; only rarely went to movies and ate out at Dairy Queens to save money. Maybe they had to. But they had never had a hundred thousand dollars in their hand at one time. What would they have done?

I knew what they would have done. They’d have thought first of me, second about survival, and last about a vacation. They’d have banked the money, kept working, and maybe driven over to Tyler to visit relatives. My dad might have gone fishing.

I wanted to do different. I wanted a radical change.

But I hesitated, and I knew why. Brett.

Last week of work before my vacation started, on a blue Monday, early morning when I should have been sleeping off the night shift, I called Brett. If nothing had changed in her schedule, she’d be home from the night shift at the hospital.

She answered the phone.

“It’s been a while,” she said.

“Yeah. I don’t know exactly what to say, but I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Hap. It’s just… Well, I don’t know. My head’s all confused. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone else. It’s not like I really want to see anyone else. Life is just a mess.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel guilty too.”

“How?”

“After what you did for me. I thought things would be great, back to normal. They aren’t.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not you. I promise. I still feel for you, it’s just that what I feel is so buried in shit. So buried in all manner of stuff. Can you understand that?”

“I think so. We did discuss those Kentucky Fried Chicken biscuits pretty good. I thought we had a moment there.”

She laughed. “Oh, Hap. That’s what I miss most about you.”

“My humor?”

“The stupid shit you come up with.”

“Oh, thanks.”

A beat.

“Don’t forget me,” she said.

“I won’t.”

“Let’s don’t say it’s over.”

“Sure.”

“Bye, Hap.”

“Bye, Brett.”

A couple minutes later, I called the cruise line. They had space. Me and Leonard would soon be on our way to Mexico, Jamaica, and the Caymans.

Yeehah.

Brett. Brett. Brett.

It was a pretty interesting week. I paid off the little bit I owed on my worthless truck, had my stitches taken out, went by the hospital late morning to see if I could look in on Sarah Bond, and they let me. She had just been out of intensive care a couple of days, still in serious condition, able to see visitors, but not long.

I slid in there and saw her sleeping. Her head was swollen, her face was dark blue, and her lips were puffed and cut and there were stitches all over and wire contraptions and tubes and such. Her hair was oily and pulled up and clipped. A portion had been shaved and in that spot was a red swelling in the shape of a boot heel. Her eye was patched over with a large gauze pad.

It hurt me to see her.

“Thanks for coming by.”

I turned. It was Elmer Bond. He was entering the room, had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit this day, a colorful tie, a kind of off-color white shirt. He looked like what he was worth. Several million bucks.

“Elmer,” I said. We shook hands.

“She’s actually much better. They keep her pretty doped. The pain. Then she’s got to deal with the recovery, therapy, you name it. It could go on for a damn long time. Bless her heart. Her mother can’t even look at her. She goes into hysterics.”

“I just wanted to drop by and see her, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be checking from time to time.”

“I kind of wish she was awake,” Elmer said. “I think she’d like to see you. I’ll tell her you came by.”

“Sure. Like I said, I’ll check back. Maybe when she’s out of the hospital. Now that I think about it, it’s best she doesn’t see me, anything to remind her of the other night might not be so good.”