S.O.S. (43 page)

Dwight looked about him: whole damn suite was looking like a warehouse – some kinda
package
depot? Jeez – how many more baxes one lady take?

‘Baxes I don't got. What I want with baxes? Call down the, what're they – stoords.'

‘You don't think I
did
already? They say
Gee
we're so
sorry
, Ma'am, but cuppla days from docking, everyone they're after baxes and we're
out
. Well
sure
all these guys want baxes – it's now baxes are wanted. So why they don't thinka this? And the shaps – the shaps too – all over the world. They sellya some piece of paddery – then it should come in a
bax
, right? Jeez. Maybe I shouldda had it all
shipped
…'

‘This here
is
a ship, Charlene.'

Charlene nodded. ‘That's kinda how I figured … where hell you going
now
, Dwight? You ain't aiming to help me out here?'

‘Had a call from
David
? Sounded kinda
jumpy
?'

‘Always with this
David
! What is
David
all of a sudden, Dwight? Your
wife
? Don't I deserve a little quality time, here? I'd ask Suki, only I could gedda holda her. You seen Suki, Dwight?'

‘Suki today I ain't seen. Shapping, I'd guess.'

‘And
Earl
. Hell, Dwight – Earl I don't even remember what he
looks
like.'

Dwight shook his head, as he made for the door.

‘Earl I ain't seen neither.' And if the boy's got any sense – if there's any of his old man in him at all – then Earl is screwing his way round the ship. The Lord knows
I
would:
what else we put here for? Wrapping up paddery in
baxes
? Get outta here.

And that's just what I did: get me outta there – fast I could. Charlene, she comes out with two, three more dumb things (whole buncha stuff about I don't even so much as thinka
looking
at green olives – I hearing her good? Plus, you gotta drink Bourbon, you make sure there's a whole loada soda: I got that? Yeh, Charlene – sure I do: nix with the olives, loada soda). Then I'm gone.

And now I'm here, not too far from the old Black Horse. Hell – I know just about every goddam incha this tub, now. Gonna be kinda weird, being back home. But, like –
good
weird, you know? Oh but looky looky here! Hoooo-
ee
! What do we have ourselves here? Well well well – if it ain't my buddy David's jailbait co-ed, looking just like they can look, when they've a mind to: pure and holy, like the mother of God. Hot dog. And this time there ain't nobody around. Yep. Well – mebby's I take a shot at it: what's to lose? I saw her not too much after sun-up this morning – talking to David with, like, real kinda
energy
, you know? I didn't rightly care to innerupt (although what I recall was going through my mind was Hey, Dave! Don't be
talking
to the broad – fuck her teenage brains out, what're you thinking about?). Then David, he moves off (me he didn't see – kinda looked like he had stuff on his mind?) and yeah, right there and then I was gonna make my move – on account of, like I say, what's to lose? Then she takes herself on deck, this baby, and I think OK, sure – on deck, cool … so I'm out on deck and whaddya know? Some other guy out there – nuts-looking kinda English guy dressed like for a
funeral
? She lies down nexta the dweeb and I'm just left hanging, y'know? So I got to figuring, and the way I see it is this:
Item
 – either David had it right the first time – this babe
does
put out, and sure looks like the older and more klutzy the guy the better (which, my age, this here gut, is kinda warming) – or else
Item
: David damn well knows it, and he
was
holding out.

On me, his buddy – me, Dwight, his good old buddy. Well now see here, my friend – all kinda loyalties and friendships, they end, kaput, where dames is concerned. This we all know.
So
, buddy boy – you like it or you don't, at this I gotta take me one shot. Like I say – what's to lose?

‘
Hi
, there, sweetheart,' was the spur for Marianne to spin round and meet this head-on – alert, at first, and filled with relief, yes, and also even excitement at the fact that she had, at last, been found and addressed … but at once, yes, in the very same instant, she just knew that these words, this voice, the entire nature of the greeting … all were completely, yes, quite grotesquely wrong. She anyway was facing the large American man.

‘You busy, little lady? What say we talk some? Drink, mebbys.' Here was Dwight at his very most sugary, all of it not too subtly cut by a hefty infusion of grimy undertone (though to his mind, real down-home and friendly, like).

‘That's, um – very kind of you, but … I don't mean to be rude, but – I
don't
know you, do I?'

‘Not yet you don't, honey. Aim to put that right. But you
do
know very well a great buddy of mine. David? he told me … well, let's just say I am aware, my sweet one, of a whole lotta, what you
do
. Read me?'

‘Oh I
see
… I didn't know you knew … oh right. Well look, um – ?'

‘Dwight. Name's Dwight, Princess.' And was he now bearing down on her? Leaning right into her, as he opened his mouth? Or was this just the way Marianne – even more tense, now – was suddenly perceiving it? ‘But
you
, babe, can call me
Horny
…'

She blinked. He
did
say that, didn't he? Either way, I have to go – right
now
.

‘Look. There's someone I really must … It's been very
nice
, um – '

‘Aw
c'mon
, baby! You don't have to be like that with your ole Uncle Dwight! Let's you and me get acquainted, what
say? You'll be right fine with me – I'm a real gennulman, just like David.'

‘I'm sure you are, um –
Dwight
… but honestly, I really do have to – '

‘And one more thing, honey …'

And Marianne – a good yard away from him, now – twisted her face up with difficulty into some sort of tolerant and maybe not too disgusted grin of forbearance: OK then – all right:
one
more thing, if you must, and then I run.

Dwight licked his lips, and brought in close his eyebrows.

‘I sure do pre-shate the cut of your titties …'

Marianne looked, quite without seeing – actually clamped the palms of her hands hard against her ears and, yes – she ran.

‘Sure upset you take that attitood!' she heard hurled after her. ‘Maybe see ya round some time! No hard feelings, I sure do hope!'

Marianne stopped running only when she realized that she was being at first just looked at and then quite openly regarded by various pockets of curious people (always eager, these snuggled-together groups, for just any sort of distraction at all); and also, she thought – where am I actually
going
? Where does one actually, now, begin to even
look
, when all I've been doing is looking and looking just
everywhere
? And I've rung down to his cabin, oh – I've completely lost all track of the number of times I've done that. And Tom, I don't really think … he isn't the sort of person to just sit in his cabin for hours on end – he likes to be
alone
, oh yes, but not, I feel pretty sure, in his
cabin
, for some reason. Unless he's asleep, of course – but God, I've rung him now about a hundred times: you'd have to be dead, to sleep through that.

So I went up to the Boat Deck – right around, twice … up one deck again to the pool, and so on … been to all the cafés and bars. Even waited outside the cinema for the end of the film … and no, I didn't really expect him to be filing out of
there. And of
course
he wouldn't be in the Regatta Club or the Casino … but I checked them both anyway. And nothing. He hadn't taken tea; or, at least, no one I asked there – waiter, couple of women knitting – none of them could recall a tall, pale, silent fellow all dressed up in black, and … well, you
would
, wouldn't you? Someone would. So I went to that person – can't even remember his name: Assistant Cruise … something or other, and he didn't of course even know who I was talking about and didn't in all honesty seem to care very much (had some people with him). He said: Have you checked in the hairdresser's? And I said No, no I haven't – and I turned away thinking Oh my God you absolute
fool
: hairdresser! You just don't know my Tom at
all
.

So you see after just hours and hours of this – and the more I did it, the more I somehow felt I was sealed up in my own big see-through and airless bubble, just bowling on down the corridors and staircases, as people looked and didn't, but mainly kept their distance – I just felt so, well –
initially
relieved and excited, yes, just that someone unseen had
spoken
. But no – not Tom. Hadn't been him. So … I think what I'll do is … maybe I'll just go round everything just one more time, comb it thoroughly … because all it is, probably, is that we're both just
missing
one another. Soon I'll be saying to him – breathless with relief by now, and excited beyond measure as well – Oh
Tom
: what do you mean you were in the Poolside restaurant? I
went
to the Poolside restaurant! And then you were sitting on the Sun Deck? But I searched all
over
the Sun Deck for you! And then we'll agree that Well – it doesn't matter any more, does it? Because now we've found one another, yes. Yes. And it would be nice too, very nice, if – when I find him – Tom does not say Oh, I was reading in the Library (and yes – I've checked the Library) or Oh, I was helping with the jigsaw (and of
course
I've been there: three
times
I've been there); it would be nice if his eyes dipped down and he lowered his voice and said
Marianne:
Marianne –
there
you are! Oh thank God – I've been looking for you
everywhere
…

Well. If so – if that's the case – he has yet to find me. The only one who has sought me out is – urgh, oh God: that monster
Dwight
. Can that awful person truly be a friend of…? But then I suppose he needn't
really
be an awful person – could be all he was was drunk, or something. Bit like Dad gets.

*

Dwight was twiddling around with one thick forefinger the big and glassy lumps of ice in his just-don't-let-on-to-Charlene-the-size-of-this-mother (bar guy – Sammy? Telling me one time how he made 'em, the rocks – Evian, so they don't cloud up none). Dwight heard and then saw David's rapid approach to the bar – and hoo boy: what in hell's got into this guy? Recalls to my mind 'Nam, one time – we was all sweating hard and moving fast and low and the ground was sucking us down as we hacked and ripped our way through all that fuckin' jungle, hoping each of us to our God that we could maybe luck out and weave through the crossfire and duck the sniping from all those unseen gooks – and you just knowed in your heart that any moment now, the next crack you hear is gonna find ya, yeah, and tear you up good; me, I come through. Waaall – guess I find out pretty soon what it is that's bugging this guy. Meantime, I gotta say this:

‘Hey, David. I caught your little girl. Me she didn't like.'

‘Marianne? Really? Well –
odd
, Dwight. She seems to like most people, far as I can tell. Oh God – a
drink:
thank Christ. Listen, Dwight – I've really got to talk to you.'

‘Mary Ann, huh? That her name? Well all I can tell you is that me, she froze out big time. Maybe she don't like Americans, period.'

‘Oh I doubt
that
. Now listen to me, Dwight – never mind Marianne, for now. I've got trouble. Real trouble.'

‘And she ain't a part of it?'

David was toying with being confused – but oh Christ, didn't have
time
to be: let's get
on
with this, God's sake:

‘No. No no – course not. Why should she be? No – listen, Dwight. I've got
woman
trouble. Serious.'

Dwight's eyes were narrow, now.

‘Well that's what I'm
saying
here, Dave. So what's the score? She putting the screws on you? Gun-to-your-head time – that it?'

‘
Exactly
it. Yes. Yes that's it. But there's just one good side to this – well
two
, actually. See – thing is, I don't actually
want
her any more. I said to her –
Look
, Trish – you've just got to understand – '

Dwight had his palm raised now, and his eyes were practically closed.

‘Hey! Whoa! Slow up, here! Who in hell's this
Trish
, now? Huh?'

‘Hm? Oh yeh – course. You don't know, do you? Well you
do
know, actually, Dwight – you just maybe don't remember.
Patty
, yes? The sick one?'

‘Oh yeh yeh: Pukey Patty. Gotcha. Jeez, David – what in hell you playing about with her for when you got yourself Mary
Ann
?'

David just stared at him.

‘
What
? Well – I mean … Marianne's all grown up now, isn't she? I mean – I don't really honestly see …!'

‘OK. The babe's all grown up now. Cool. So – lemmy just get this right in my mind, David. This dame Patty –
Trish
, right? She shows up – she goes Technicolor all down your pants and next minute you're
banging
her?'