Leaving New York

Chapter 5

The following day, I woke before Henry. The freighter creaked and groaned, steel plates crunching against each other. I pulled the covers up to my nose, thinking of the crew and passengers I'd be serving soon. Then I looked at Henry—he seemed okay. I crawled out of bed, pulled on my black uniform, then hiked down to the dining room for my breakfast before I started my shift: grapefruit, two hard-boiled eggs, a whole wheat German roll, English Breakfast tea.

Wolf saw me. "Are you back to work now?"

"Yeah. I thought the Cap was going to tell you."

"Maybe he did—I forget things more and more. I missed you—you're are a hard worker."

"Thanks."

"I need you to help clean up. The dishes from last night are still there."

"Okay."

As I cleaned the kitchen, I looked out the pass-thru to the dining room several times. I finally saw Henry hobble in on his crutches, so I walked out to him.

"Hey, Henry."

"Hey."

"I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah, why?"

"Just glad you're up and about. How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess."

"I'll make a plate for you. Breakfast is always buffet-style—it'll be hard to manage those crutches and a plate."

"Thanks."

"You want anything special?"

"Nah."

"How about coffee?"

"Okay."

I made his plate then took a little break to keep him company.

Out of the blue, he said, "It was stupid to run away from Philly."

"Well . . ."

"My boat was all I had—and my savings." He looked down at his oatmeal. "I tried to keep it together after my wife left, but I just couldn't. My boss said I should go to a psychiatrist. He gave me some pills, but they made my stomach ache. Last week, I decided I'd go to Florida. I quit my job, withdrew all my savings, and took off."

His behavior sounded like mania, the part of bipolar disorder where people make erratic decisions.

"I'm glad you could tell me what happened. We can hang out after my shift if you want."

"I guess."

After washing my last dish after dinner, I high-tailed it back to the cabin. Henry wasn't there, but I had to get cleaned up after nasty kitchen duty anyway. I stripped off my jeans and filled up the sink basin in the head for a shave. There was a knock at the door.

"It's open." Carlos poked his nose in the head.

"So, you're shaving that hillbilly beard, huh?"

"Ha. Yeah."

"Where's Henry?"

"Not sure."

"I know you're off Henry duty now."

"Yeah, but we're supposed to hang out."

"Oh, I remember—he's been helping old Pruitt re-build an air cooler on the Number Two engine. I was down there after lunch—looks like he knows what he's doing, even on crutches."

"Wow—that's a good sign. Getting out of the cabin like that."

Carlos continued sitting on the toilet, watching me shave.

"I thought you were like the captain and never got a break."

"I fit little mini-breaks in throughout the day. So, is Henry married?"

"His wife left him for another guy."

"Man, that's hard. You missed a spot." He pointed to my chin.

I turned on the shower while Carlos kept sitting there. I dropped my towel, stepped in, and lathered up.

"You got a girlfriend or a wife, Jack?"

"No, just me."

"I got a wife and three kids in Panama."

"Wow. How often do you see your family?"

"Every four months. But I talk to my wife every day. She's a good lady."

I flung the cheap plastic shower curtain back, drying off.

"You need to get yourself a girlfriend, brother." He looked down at my penis. "Man." I quickly pulled some clean white briefs on, smiling shyly.

"Well, I got to get back to the bridge. Cap says you need to go back on Henry watch."

"But it sounded like I'm not. What's up?"

"It's okay, but he got a little mouthy with Danny in the engine room, like yelling at him."

"Man." I whispered, "He said he has depression. Doesn't take meds."

"Okay--I'll let Cap know." I wondered what Carlos would think if I told him I took meds for depression too. It sucked you had to keep stuff so private. After he left, I dozed until Henry came in.

"Hey, Jack."

"Hey, buddy."

I could see blood seeping through his bandage.

"Let me check your wound."

"You a nurse?"

"No, retired fireman—I thought I told you."

"I guess."

I sat next to him on his bed, peeling the foot-long bandage back.

"Ouch."

"Sorry. You're pretty hairy. No infection. We'll change the bandage tomorrow. You're lucky it wasn't worse."

He suddenly covered his face, leaning into me. I put an arm around him.

"My job, my marriage, my boat, my brain—everything—gone! I yelled at a guy in the engine room today. God."