The Whale's Song (Book 1)

Chapter Thirteen. The sobering act of soup.

Space, no longer the final frontier, but more a permanent family member you have no choice of seeing every time they visit, glistened.

It glistened in a very sick way. It panned away to reveal Oscar's sweat steaming face staring at a pot of pumpkin soup. Next to the pot sat a tray of fresh buttered up bread. A jug of water sat next to it. An empty bucket sat next to that and Oscar tried to resist the urge of throwing up in it, if only for the fact that it had hands connected to it that could, and would, very easily throttle him to death if he did so.

He poured himself a bowl of the soup, grabbed a chunk of bread, dipped it in the soup and ate it.

'That probably wasn't a very smart thing,' he remarked through a mouthful of bread, referring to his recent drinking activity.

Bucket shrugged in a very non-committal way. He did not drink. The rust was awful. Ima Diamond, however, who sat on a stool next to Oscar, and did drink, nodded.

'What on Thera drove you to do that, Oz? You know better than to mix your spirits.'

'Spirits. Huh,' muttered Oscar. 'Pretty soon that's all there is going to be left of us. Mingling spirits,' he hissed distastefully.

Ima frowned, glancing questioningly at Bucket. 'What do you mean, Oz? I don't get you.'

Oscar opened his mouth to speak. Pumpkin soup flowed out and down his chin. He swore angrily as he dabbed at his shirt. He shook his head soulfully at Ima's confused and grossed out face.

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'Brain and mouth aren't functioning very well right now.'

'Oz, what's going on? I've never seen you act this way before. You're always cheerful. Have the Ohio brothers been up to something again? Bucket warned you to stay away from them,' she remanded him sternly. 'Remember what happened last time. Ugh,' she rolled her eyes, 'Otua should have them jettisoned into space for the trouble they've caused. You know,' she said, leaning in and dabbing soup off Oscar's chin, 'Candice tells me that they've never actually paid for their passage. They just rocked up one day and Otua let them stay. God knows why.'

'Wait, the Ohio brothers are living on board the ship illegally?' spluttered Oscar, waving away Ima's hand.

'I didn't say that!' exclaimed Ima, frowning at the idea. 'I just said Candice told me they've never paid. She would know, she handles the bookings. Maybe they're just cheap. Who knows?' She sighed. 'The point is, they are dodgy. Stay away from them.'

'Ugh!' exclaimed Oscar, pushing back his chair as he moved away from the table. 'I'm sick of people constantly trying to get me to do stuff. Ever since I can remember my life has been one constant, 'Oscar, do this'. Ever since I got on this boat it's been a constant push-me-pull-you event.'

'Oscar, what are you talking about?' Ima rose and followed him as he stalked from her kitchen.

'Ever since I got on this boat people have been telling me what I am. You would think with so many people on board I could just slip to the back and not be noticed and enjoy my first holiday ever. But no, people have never seen a new passenger before. It's always 'Oscar, what do you think of this?' or 'Oscar, you can help us solve this'. All I want is the chance for some peace and quiet. Before the end of the world. The chance to drink my sorrows away without being dragged back to some apartment and fed soup to sober me up!'

Bucket clanked, and the room fell silent. The back of Oscar's neck frizzled as the hairs stood up. His back burned and chilled at the same time. Someone was jabbing sharp spikes into his back, and he had a feeling he had caused it. He turned. Ima Diamond stood opposite him, arms crossed against her chest, right foot forward and tapping on the ground. He looked up, from her tapping foot to her crossed arms, up to her pursed lips and her narrowed eyes. He licked his lips nervously.

'If that's the way you feel about people who care for you,' she began, quietly. Oscar winced, his ears ringing like he had just been slapped with a tuning fork. Ima continued. 'Then you can get out of my apartment. Your being drunk does not excuse you from insulting me, my apartment, my cooking, or my concern for you.'

Oscar nodded. 'I'm sorry,' he managed to get out. With a courteous nod, and the knowledge that nothing he could say at the moment would fix the problem he had just created, he left.