Robin Alexander - Murky Waters

When Claire looked as though she would pass out from sheer boredom, Tristan interrupted. “Sam, Claire and I have to get back on the road. We have a schedule to keep today.”

Sam looked disappointed. “Come on, Tris, you have to have lunch with us.”

Claire shot a nervous glance Tristan’s way. The memory of the man doing the cooking and relieving himself off the side of the boat was still fresh in her mind. Tristan smiled and gave her a small nod.

“All right, Tris, I will let you off the hook for lunch, but y’all have to come see the wheelhouse.”

“The wheelhouse?” Claire asked curiously.

“Yeah, that’s where I drive the boat from. It’s the best place on the boat besides my quarters. Hey! I learned a new song on the old 34

Robin Alexander

guitar; you gotta hear it. We can run up there now, and I can play it for you.”

Tristan spoke up. “I’ll make a deal with you, Sam. We will go see the wheelhouse, but you have to promise not to play the guitar, or worse, sing.”

Sam pretended to be heartbroken. “Oh, Tris, you cut me deep on that one.”

“You little liar,” Tristan snorted.

Claire watched in fascination and amusement as Tristan bantered back and forth with the old captain. Tristan was so unlike the woman Claire met the previous day; her behavior was the complete opposite.

Sam took the long way to the wheelhouse. He took them through the huge engine room, where the sound was nearly deafening. All the while, he pointed out things and gave explanations of what they were and their purpose. Claire watched his mouth move but did not have a clue what he was saying. To her relief, they left the noisy room and went through a maze of hallways. She looked into the open bunkrooms as she passed. They reminded her of tiny dorm rooms.

Claire glared over her shoulder at Tristan as she was made to climb another two flights of stairs. Tristan simply smiled and shrugged. They passed through another door, and Claire found herself in a room resembling a miniature airport control tower.

The wheelhouse was on the very top deck, and surrounded by glass, it afforded the wheelman a bird’s-eye view of the barge tow before him. Claire marveled at the bank of electronic equipment and fought the urge to push every button she could get her hands on. Sam insisted that Claire sit in the captain’s chair while he showed off his gadgets.

Tristan made herself comfortable on a small bench and watched Claire with great interest as Sam allowed her to push a few buttons. Claire resembled a child on Christmas morning, grinning from ear to ear, waiting for Sam to let her play with all the toys.

Claire was obviously enjoying herself and was not satisfied until she had explored every corner of the wheelhouse.

Tristan remembered the first time her dad took her out to one of the boats. For a ten-year-old, it was an adventure in Wonderland.

Her dad stayed close to her side, knowing the dangers surrounding 35

Murky Waters

such vessels. Her fondest memory of that trip was the tour of the wheelhouse. At thirty-eight years old, she could still remember clearly the face of the old silver-haired captain who hoisted her up into the captain’s chair. Time spent with her dad on the boats was the most peaceful and happy time of her childhood. Watching Claire’s enthusiasm for something that had always been so special made her feel that same peaceful feeling that died with her dad.

Claire and Sam had become fast friends. She sat patiently as he played his guitar and sang a couple of his own songs. She even managed to keep a straight face when Tristan pretended to jump overboard behind his back. It took a little work, but Tristan finally managed to drag Claire from the wheelhouse and back on dry ground.

Tristan listened amused at Claire’s excited chatter. She had many questions about life on the river that Tristan answered patiently.

“Life on the river is similar to being on land. The boat stores function as little post offices. Boat personnel can pick up and send mail there. They shop at some of them for personal items. Their groceries and fuel are delivered by fleet boats that also pick up their trash. It’s a world unto itself out here.”

After climbing back up the levee, both women were relieved when they made it to the truck. Fortunately, the A/C cooled the cab shortly after they had gotten back on the road. Claire blotted her face with a tissue, trying to retain some of the makeup she had put on that morning, but the heat and humidity had done a number on her hair. No two hairs pointed in the same direction.

“How do you feel about pizza for lunch?” Tristan asked as she sped down River Road.

“Sounds heavenly to me. An iced tea would hit the spot, too.”

Claire was parched from being out in the heat. The diesel fumes on the boat were overwhelming and nauseated her a bit, and iced tea was exactly what she needed.

“Great, I will take you to my most favorite pizza place in the whole world. You have to understand, though. I only take my friends to this place, so we will have to get to know each other first. I will tell you about myself, then I will tell you what I know about you already. What do ya say?”

“Umm ... okay, I guess,” Claire answered a little perplexed.

36

Robin Alexander

“I’m thirty-eight years old, not married, and no children, except for an orange tabby cat known as Ralph. My hobbies are anything to do with the water, camping, and believe it or not, gardening.

I’m a neat freak, which is probably why I’m still single. My favorite food is pizza. So there, now you know me.

“Now, let me tell you what I know about you. You are also a neat freak. You’re not married and have no children. Your hobby is shopping. I suppose you’re around thirty-five, and you’re a lesbian.”

Claire sat listening to what Tristan had to say with a smirk on her face until she got to the lesbian part. Her smirk disappeared, and her jaw gaped open.

“Why on earth would you assume that about me?”

Tristan laughed. “What?”

“That I’m gay.”

“I saw the gay pride flag on your sunglass case. I assume you do know that it’s not just a pretty rainbow.”

Claire was floored. She sat speechless. Tristan laughed so hard she had to pull off the road. “Oh, Claire, don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to make you mad, but your face was priceless.”

“I’m not mad. I just didn’t expect that at all. Don’t sit there looking all smug, either. I found out about you my first day.”

“Don’t tell me; let me guess. It was Ellen. She always feels the need to pass that little tidbit along to anyone who crosses her path.

Quite frankly, I think she’s curious about what she is missing out on. She’s a sweet person, and I think she means well, but she sure is fascinated with my sex life.”

“You certainly have a unique way of breaking the ice with someone, Tristan Delacroix,” Claire said with mock indignation.

Tristan pulled the truck back onto the roadway and headed for her favorite pizza place. Both women were more at ease and began to talk candidly. They both came to realize that they enjoyed being in the other’s company.

37

Murky Waters

CHAPTER THREE

Tristan pulled the red pickup into the crowded parking lot of the Pastime Lounge nestled under an interstate overpass. Claire looked at it skeptically. “Tristan, this doesn’t look like a pizza parlor to me.”

“That’s because it’s a lounge, and they serve the best pizza in Baton Rouge,” Tristan said as she climbed out of the truck.

Clair reluctantly followed her into the old bar, and Tristan went to the counter to order their lunch. As Tristan suggested, Claire went off to find an empty table. Shortly after, Tristan appeared with two iced teas and took her seat.