CHAPTER SIX
“Oh, by the way, if Jimmy asks about those porn charges, just say it was you,” Dex said with a sly grin while sticking a cigarette in his mouth.
I shook my head, not willing to go to bat for him over that and not at all surprised that he had racked up quite the adult movie bill after last night.
It was 10 a.m. and we were on the upper deck of the ferry that was taking us from the mainland to Vancouver Island, where we had to pick up the boat.
The morning had started out in a perpetual raincloud. I eventually fell asleep last night and woke up to a wake–up call and the overall fuzziness of “what the hell did I do last night?” Of course, I didn’t do much of anything. It was more of what I saw and that all came flooding back to me in a haze of stale Jack Daniels and Coke. I think I saw enough boobs to last me a lifetime.
We got in his car and headed south out of the raincloud. As soon as we reached the farmlands that led to the ferry terminal, the clouds broke open and a fairy tale ray of sunshine flowed down from above and enveloped the ocean. I took it as a good omen.
We had gone straight up to the upper deck of the nearly–empty boat because he wanted to have a cigarette. At least I thought it was just one. He leaned against the railing, looking down at the waves that flowed past the ferry in a foam–filled rage and lit up one cigarette after the other.
The wind cleared the cobwebs from my face and messed the hair off of his head. He was only wearing a black hoodie with his camouflage pants below, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit cold even though the breeze was a lot sharper than I had expected. Actually, I was borderline freezing and knew my nose was an acute shade of red.
But I stayed up there with him, soaking in the ocean air and enjoying the glaring sunshine and his quiet company. Dex did seem a little more pensive than usual but that was coupled with bags under his eyes and an ashy complexion. I kept it to myself, but it was obvious he hadn’t slept all that much. Perhaps the stripper giving me a lap dance was a powerful stimulant. At least, I kind of hoped it was. Still, there was something off about him last night too.
“How’s your new medication doing?” I asked. I was probably overstepping my boundaries but I was curious.
He didn’t bite. He just shrugged. “It works.”
He took a long drag of his cigarette, the ashes flying off into the wind and flowing down the length of the ferry deck. His hands were shaking slightly.
“I didn’t see you smoke a single cigarette yesterday,” I said, eyeing his trembling fingers.
He shrugged, again. “It comes and goes.”
I wanted to say that constantly eating Nicorette like it was candy wasn’t helping his quitting case but who was he kidding? He wasn’t trying to quit; this was just what he did. Sometimes there really was no reason – it was a hard concept for me to accept.
Maybe he knew what I was thinking because his eyes darted over to me. “What now?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly and turned my attention to the sharp mountains of Vancouver Island that rose in the incoming distance. “At least the day is turning out nice.”
“Are you worried about me?” he asked, his voice noncommittal. It caught me a bit off guard, enough so that I had to look at him.
The line between his brows deepened, from thought and from the glare. We both were without sunglasses. It was one of those things you forgot about needing in the Pacific Northwest. He didn’t seem angry or upset, or even really curious. I had to think about whether I wanted to tell the truth or not. The truth was so…iffy.
“Well,” I said, drawing it out. “I think I always worry about you. And I think you know that by now.”
“No, I mean, are you worried about being with me,” he said, straightening up and flicking the cigarette overboard, even though there was a cigarette disposal unit behind us. “On this island. Alone. With me.”
“Why would that worry me? Also, it’s a park, there will be people there.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.
He shook his head with a small smile. “You’ve seen how empty this ferry is. You really think people go camping in November? In Canada? To some hostile island? The place is barely occupied during the summer.”
I hadn’t thought about that. In my head I was expecting a full campground with other people there to keep us company. I didn’t think we’d actually be the only ones on the island.
“Isn’t there a ranger on the island or something?”
“No. That’s why Bill said to call him up on the damn radio if something went wrong. It’s just going to be you and me, kiddo.”
It didn’t seem like a big deal, really, but I guess it was the first time we would be alone alone…with no Maximus or Uncle Al meddling in our business. But still…
“I don’t know why you think I’d have a problem being alone with you. I trust you more than anyone,” I said truthfully. Honestly, the only thing that worried me now was the damn inappropriate ideas I kept getting in my head, all thanks to Ada’s incessant texting about Dex and I possibly having sex. Maybe these thoughts ran in the family.
He watched me for a few beats like he was trying to pick out exactly what I was thinking. I knew I was probably blushing but hoped the chilly wind was doing a good job of disguising that.
“I don’t know. Figured you probably thought I was a…what was it? A pervy weirdo, after last night.” He said it so sincerely that I had to laugh.
“I liked that side of you.” Oh dear. That totally came out wrong. “Or…I mean, I liked–”
“No, don’t cover it up,” he said, placing his finger on my lips. His smile was sweet, almost sad.
I waited for him to take his tobacco-scented finger away before I said, “I had fun last night. You’re just a man, Dex, that’s what I got out of it, and it was a bit of a relief, to be honest.”
“Good,” he said, fishing out his pack. “This morning I couldn’t really remember what happened, thought maybe I scared you more than I wanted to.”
I reached over and put my hand over his, closing it over the pack. “Ease up, OK? You’ve had like five in a row. If I have any reason to be worried about you, it’s because of that. Not because you got a stripper to give me a lap dance.”
He sucked on his lip and thought it over. Then he put the pack away in his jacket pocket.
“You did enjoy that lap dance, didn’t you?”
“It was eye–opening.”
“You’ve never been with a woman before?”
I burst into nervous giggles. “What? No, of course not. Have you been with a man? No wait, I don’t want to know. Don’t answer that.” Nothing would have surprised me but I definitely did not need that mental image.
He raised his brows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you want to go inside? I’m freezing my ass off.”
He opened his mouth to say something with that familiar glint in his eye, so I added teasingly, “Don’t you dare say anything about my ass.”
“Wow. No cigarettes and no compliments. You run a tight ship, Perry Palomino.”
Dex knew he was the chief operator in our whole operation, but I just nodded. I had to take what I could get, while I could get it.
After the ferry docked, we drove off onto the long, tree–filled expanse of Vancouver Island and down the winding road towards the city of Victoria. As we neared the town of Saanich, we had glimpses of various islands floating out in Haro Strait. I couldn’t figure out which one was D’Arcy Island but we’d know soon enough.
Dex was actually more talkative than he had been on the ferry, which I took as a good sign. Only now I was feeling a bit sullen and moody. I wasn’t sure why, except I got this terrible feeling that I had forgotten something or was going into this situation ill–prepared.
I know Dex had asked if I was worried about being alone with him, and at first I really wasn’t, but the more I examined the weekend, the more I started to fret. Not about him in any way. I mean, I’d love nothing more than for him to make a few moves on me. But I knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Or anytime. Ever. Sigh.
No, I was worried about myself. I was going to be sharing a tent with him for two nights. Sure, we had our own sleeping bags and everything (thank goodness), but the isolation plus our proximity, with no prying eyes to see…it made me nervous. What if I did something stupid, like jump his bones in the middle of the night? I’d be mortified and I’d scare him off. Probably ruin everything we had.
And yeah, I know it seems pretty unlikely that insecure little Perry would do anything like that but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to do terrible x–rated, nasty things to him. Only a few moments ago he had leaned over to take something out of the glovebox and during the instant where he turned to look up at me, I was so afraid I was actually going to lean forward and kiss him. I just thought, what happens if I just kiss him right here? What if I just grab his hair with my hands and pull him towards me and just kiss those irresistible lips of his? It was getting pretty ridiculous. I have never wanted someone so badly before, mentally and physically, that I was afraid my body might act without any instructions from me.
Finally, vague thoughts of Creepy Clown Lady kept drifting into my headspace. She acted like she knew me in some way. But I still wasn’t sure if I had seen a figment of my imagination or a ghost. Or an actual cracked–out clown lady who just followed me around from place to place like a lost carnie. Er, speaking telepathically in my head and all of that. I’ve heard carnies can do that.
I kind of wanted to bring it up with Dex just to see what he thought, to see if he had seen her too, lately, and was keeping it from me as I had been from him, and I was seconds (well, minutes, maybe days) away from doing so when we pulled up to a modest blue, one–level house in a leafy suburban neighborhood of Victoria. He parked the car on the street and flipped it into park.
“This is Zach’s,” he said.
I gave him an expectant look. “And how do you know this Zach?”
“He’s a documentary filmmaker, did some projects with him over the years. He’s a nice guy, no appetite for bullshit, which I appreciate. Has a kid, Amanda, who is six, I think, or something like that. Anyway old enough to talk intelligently with you, young enough to not have a f*cking attitude. Buddy just got divorced though, so…try not to bring that up.” >
Noted. We got out of the car and walked to the house. For a single guy, his garden was very neat and tidy, even with the approach of winter. Christmas lights were already on the hedges and lining the roof. The grass was cut short and rimmed with dew.
A little girl answered the door.
She was pretty with long blonde hair that was in the chokehold of a rat’s nest. The dress she wore was ruffley and light pink but overwhelmed by a Picasso–like mess of dirty smears. Either this was a tomboy in a princess’s body or dad wasn’t used to having a young girl around.
“I’m Amanda,” she stated forcefully as she blocked the entrance with her tiny body.
“You remember me, Amanda,” Dex said, leaning over to get a better look at her, hands on his knees. I felt a rare pang under my ribcage. “It’s Dex.”
“You smell,” she said. I couldn’t help but laugh. Amanda shot me a look.
“Sorry, Amanda. I agree with you,” I said in my most child–like voice. I never knew how to act around children, regardless of their age. Luckily Amanda grinned at that, showing off a wide gap in her teeth. She then skipped away, leaving the door open. Success!
A bearded man came around the corner, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His eyes lit up when he saw Dex.
“How are you, my man?” he exclaimed.
Dex went up and embraced him heartily. It was charming to see from someone who didn’t seem too affectionate with anyone.
“Good, good. I like the beard, Zach,” Dex noted as he pulled away and gave him the once–over. “You look like the singer of Clutch.”
It was true. He did look like Neil Fallon of the band Clutch. Zach had a receding hairline coupled with a bushy mountain–man beard. He had a proud beer belly poking forward through his navy tee–shirt, though he seemed in otherwise good shape.
“And I like the moustache. You look like a rapist,” Zach shot back with a wink.
Dex looked at me. “I guess you aren’t the only one who thinks so.”
I smiled at Zach and extended my hand, “Hi, I’m Dex’s partner, Perry. I also think he looks like a rapist.”
He shook it firmly and said, “Nice to meet you, Perry. I can tell I like you already. Come on in. Don’t mind Amanda. She’s here for the weekend. School had a professional day or something.”
“I’m in Grade One,” she said suddenly, poking her head out from the kitchen in front of us and then quickly disappearing again.
Dex and I laughed nervously. I mean, what do you say to that? Good for you? That’s nice?
Zach looked back at us, saying, “I know, who the f*ck cares.”
“Dad!” she yelled from around the corner.
He rolled his eyes. “Right. Sorry, Amanda.”
He leaned towards us, voice lowered, “She’s the swear police now. Her mother…well, anyway, come in, come in.”
Zach led us into the living room, where he served us coffee and Twinkies. His house was small but had a homey feel, wood-paneled walls and lots of thick moody–colored rugs thrown about on a dark hardwood floor.
“Sorry, I’m not very good at hosting people,” he said, shoving a Twinkie in his mouth.
I eyed the spongy creation in my hands. I already had breakfast on the ferry but decided to nibble at it just to be polite. At least the coffee was strong and good. Seemed like the type of coffee a sailor would make.
“So, D’Arcy Island, eh?” Zach mused with a hard gleam in his eyes.
“Yup. Nothing says a fun time like an old leper colony,” Dex said.
“And the park board is letting you do this?”
“Yeah. They’re letting us. Not stopping us at any rate. Though that Bill dude definitely had a tent pole up his ass.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ve been approached by TV shows before…all that ghosthunting crap. Sorry. I just don’t believe in it.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts?” I asked. Even though it seemed like most people didn’t, it was still fascinating to me to find out why.
“Oh, no, I believe in ghosts. Very much so. But I think those TV shows are crap. That’s probably why they said yes to you guys. What I think anyway.”
“Cuz we aren’t crap?” I asked, carefully slurping on my coffee.
“No, because there’s really no chance of being exploited through…you know, the internet. What I mean is, it’s not on the A&E channel. There’s no moron leading the charge.”
He paused and gave Dex a funny look. “Well, except for this guy of course.”
“Actually I’m the moron of the show,” I offered with a smile.
Dex grinned at me. “Can we get that on tape?”
Zach carefully watched the exchange between us before saying asking, “You still with Jennifer, Dex?”
The coffee cup rattled loudly in Dex’s hands. They were shaking again, albeit for just a quick moment. He swallowed hard and put it down.
“Yes, of course,” he said matter–of–factly.
Damn it. Obviously I had been hoping that the phone call meant they’d broken up. Guess not. I tried not to look annoyed, especially since Zach was looking at me now. I don’t know why it was but I always got the feeling that people were tiptoeing around the relationship question with him. It was like they couldn’t quite believe that Dex and I were just partners. I flashed him a bright smile, anyway. Didn’t want to let on how I was feeling or what I was thinking.
“Gotta love Wine Babes,” Zach remarked rather awkwardly.
“Oh, yes. Who doesn’t?” I added. I could tell Dex eyed me suspiciously but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Indeed,” Zach mused with a smile and got out of his armchair. He took his and Dex’s empty cups into the kitchen. I looked around the room, at the expansive library of books and the hominess of the place and decided that whatever happened between him and his ex–wife (which I was not supposed to mention) left him pretty well off. I think I’d be happy with a house like this albeit probably not with a daughter.
At that, I turned my head and saw Amanda standing in the doorway to the front hall, peering at us with her large eyes. She smiled shyly but didn’t move. It was like her need to know overcame her instincts to run away from strange company. I knew that feeling all too well.
“Hey Amanda,” Dex said, his voice animated. “When was the last time I saw you?”
Amanda smiled broadly at him in a girlish way and put her finger to her mouth, pondering.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t this year because you never got me a birthday present,” she said teasingly.
“That’s true. But what if I said I had your present right here?” he said, his voice raised along with his eyebrows. I watched him, more fascinated than I should have been.
She eyed him like he was the Easter Bunny. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to come over here and see.”
I briefly wondered if children her age were taught to fear the rapist moustache because that’s one thing that would have had me running the other way (that and a white Chevy Astro van with no windows). But she skid towards us on the hardwood floors, using her socks in a Risky Business type manner.
She stopped in front of Dex and looked at him expectantly.
“Where is the present? What is it?” she demanded.
I wanted to know too. I looked at him with as much expectancy, hoping he wasn’t so cruel and stupid as to actually fool a child with promises of gifts. That shit never worked on me.
He didn’t miss a beat. He reached down into his cargo pants pocket and paused. He leaned forward to Amanda and whispered.
“Close your eyes.”
Amanda stood up straight, hands clasped behind her back and closed her wide eyes with a silly grin splashed across her face.
“Open your hands.”
She displayed her hands forward, palms up. I watched Dex fish a few rubber bands out of his pocket and place them in hers. They were in the shape of a boat, a rose and a heart. They were Silly Bandz, a trend that was slowly taking even adults by storm, though I didn’t have the foggiest idea why. I mean, I liked the look and music of the ‘90s but something like Silly Bandz was way beyond my appeal.
But Amanda liked them and as soon as she opened her eyes, she was exclaiming loudly and dancing around the house in some frantic child boogie. Zach came back out of the kitchen with another cup of coffee and a couple of books under his arm, shaking his head at his daughter who was running upstairs to put the other bands she already had on. I figured a Silly Bandz fashion show was in order.
As much as I didn’t hate the idea of humoring a child, I just wanted to get to the island and get the whole project going. Zach must have too, because the books he brought in were about D’Arcy Island. He plopped them on Dex’s lap and handed him the coffee.
“Thanks, bud,” Dex said, taking the cup in his hand, “but the books are for her.”
He jerked his head in my direction, spilling a drop of coffee at the same time.
“Ah,” said Zach, and handed me the books instead. There were only two and both were thin and un–scholarly.
“Is this it?” I asked.
“Yeah that’s it. Afraid there’s just not much written about the place.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “There just isn’t much to go on. The island was kind of run below the surface. Those books report everything that is traceable but a lot of it is just speculation. There’s really not a lot of records about it.”
“But…Dex told me people had died there.”
“Oh, yeah. At least 40–something people died there. But they were lepers. And Chinese lepers at that, so you have to understand they weren’t really considered people. If it was a white man’s leper colony, there’d be tons of books about it. But those are the breaks.”
I looked down at the books in my hand. They seemed to be poor consolation for what happened.
Zach must have been reading my face because he said, “It gets worse as you get into it. The fact that the government at the turn of the century barely kept any records, any real insight, anyway, is just the tip of the iceberg. These people were left there to die. That’s why they call it the Island of Death.”
A marked shiver ran up behind me. “Are you serious?”
Zach nodded grimly and looked over at Dex. “You haven’t briefed her?”
“He never briefs me,” I said. “It’s like he wants me to look totally unprofessional.”
Dex looked at me with a quizzical expression. “I got you the books, didn’t I? You’ll have plenty of time to read up on the sail over. Just relax, kiddo.”
He turned back to Zach. “It’s still supposed to be fair, right?”
Zach pulled out his Blackberry and entered in a few keys. “Yeah, it should be. There’s a chance of strong northwesterlies tonight but as long as you stay on the boat you should be OK.”
“Stay on the boat?” I repeated. I could feel Dex tense up beside me.
“The anchoring is very poor over there,” Zach said. “It’s fine when the weather is calm, but this time of year, you’re better off on the boat.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand, and it was one I took to heart. I had no problems with being on the boat overnight. The more I learned about the “Island of Death” the more that staying on the boat seemed like a perfectly sane and enjoyable option. Besides, it was Zach’s boat.
“But we’ll have no problems getting there?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Weather is at least holding nicely for today. You might get some fog tomorrow morning but hopefully that’s it. The patterns change really quickly out in Haro Strait. It looks like it’s really close by, and it is, but believe me, that place can get rough.”
“Bill said they chose that island for a reason…you couldn’t escape,” I said, my voice feeling heavier.
“He’s right. People tried. They drowned. Some days the supply ships couldn’t even come in because of the winds. When it hits just right, you get a nasty rip that prevents any boats from coming to the shore. And will take any desperate soul out to the Pacific to die.”
My shoulders sank a little at that. The more I heard about this island, the more I wanted to just throw in the towel and call it a day. Yeah, maybe I was chickenshit when I shouldn’t have been, maybe I was feeling unprepared when I really needed to feel like I could own the whole thing and prove I wasn’t some idiot, maybe I was afraid of being alone with Dex. Even beyond the worry that I would molest him at some point (which I knew wouldn’t happen) – it was the idea that we would be alone on the “Island of Death” together. What if something went wrong? Sure we handled skinwalkers, but there were still people there to aid us. In this case, we would be utterly, entirely alone with only each other to depend on.
But there I was, sitting with a few library books on my lap, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee in some stranger’s house. I had come this far and from Dex’s determined expression, there was no turning back. And so far, in all of our experiences together, there always was that moment that I could have turned back and I never ever did. Even if it scared me to the core, to my very soul and fiber of my being, I still went forward into the unknown. Some may call that brave. I don’t think I’d call it that. Stubborn beyond repair seemed more fitting.
It wasn’t long before Dex gulped down the rest of his coffee and we were off towards the marina. I was sure that Zach would have come with us and shown Dex the ropes again in how to manage a sailboat but he seemed to think Dex could it handle himself. He had more faith than I had. Even if Dex was suddenly an expert sailor, I don’t think I’d trust him with a boat. >
On the other hand, I trusted Dex with my life. Go figure.
* * *
The boat was actually a lot scruffier than I had expected, considering how neat Zach’s house was. This was a good thing though – it made me feel a lot better about having Dex at the wheel knowing he wasn’t going to be scratching a multi–million dollar yacht.
I didn’t know much about sailboats (the only sailboat I had really been on had been my grandfather’s yacht in Sweden, but I was quite young and the memories of that were vague), but it was a C&C 38, which is kind of your standard boat. At least that’s what Dex told me as we drove over.
After a few trips back and forth to the car to get all of our stuff, it was time to go aboard. I handed Dex the cameras, extra careful not to drop them in the space between the boat and the dock. That would have been the worst thing ever.
He took them and disappeared down into the cabin. I felt more comfortable standing on the creaking, moving dock than going on board. I was in no rush. On the dock I still felt attached to the land, attached to the smiling sailors who were going about the area tending to their own boats and taking advantage of the mild autumn day before the winter rains set in. It was pleasant and familiar. The boat, with its fading aqua color, peeling wood trim and crackled paint job on the name “Mary Contrary” (apparently his ex–wife’s name) was not.
Dex popped his head up inquisitively, and asked, “What are you doing, skipper?”
“I’m skipper now?” I asked, hesitating before lifting my foot onto the first wrung of the boat ladder. I stared down at the dark depths beneath me.
“You will be if you come aboard. You need help to get up, shorty?”
Who was he calling shorty? I grabbed the railing for balance and stepped up onto the slanted, grainy surface of the deck and carefully made my way over to the cockpit, staying bent over for balance and thankful for the smooth grip on my Chucks.
“You’ll get your sea legs soon enough,” Dex said, climbing up from inside and standing beside me. He had a book of nautical charts with him. He poked around the area beside the wheel, lifting up a few panels. “Thank f*ck Zach was smart enough to put in sonar and GPS.”
I stepped over to him and peered down at the instrument panel beside the wheel, which had a moldy, damp cover on it. “Would we have been screwed otherwise?”
Dex laughed. “I’ll say.”
Well that was encouraging to hear. What did he think would happen if he hadn’t? Would he have just winged it with someone’s boat? Probably.
“Do you want me to do anything?” I asked, hoping he’d say no. I just wanted to sit in the corner of the bench and hide.
He pulled out a key and a cigarette from his pants pocket. He lit the cigarette, took a large puff and stuck the key in the slot, giving it a hard turn. The boat roared to life, a sound much louder than I had expected, and we were vibrating from the motion.
“Dex?” I asked.
“Right,” he said, and pointed up at the deck. “I’ll need you to take in the bumpers once we get moving. And I might need you to help me cast off.” He looked around him at the surrounding boats. “I don’t want to bug anyone here for a sendoff.”
That might be better though, I thought.
He rubbed his chin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to jump aboard while the ship is moving. Last thing I want is for you to take a dip.”
“Good.”
“I’ll just get you to steer.”
“Uh…”
“You ride a motorbike, Perry. You can steer this boat in a straight line for a few seconds. I believe in you.” He smacked me hard on the back.
I had my doubts about handling the long ocean beast, but it wasn’t that hard. The way the marina was laid out and the position of the boat among the berths meant all I really had to do was shove the gearshift forward, keep the pace and hold the boat straight. The calm seas made this easy to do and soon Dex had thrown all the lines on deck and had leaped on board the slowly moving ship with ease. He sure was sprightly for someone who wasn’t that tall. The casual, streamlined manner of which he did it in was a surprise too.
I guess I was doing a good enough job that he walked to the bow and back, taking up all the bumpers as he went.
“Thanks, skipper, I’ll take it from here,” he said after he finished, flashing me an appreciative smile and squeezing in beside me. He put his hands on top of mine, which were on top of the wheel.
I stared up at him stupidly, torn between wanting to move my hands and get out of the way or just keep them there.
He eyed my hands underneath his and gave them a quick squeeze. “Unless you want to steer? I don’t want to cause a mutiny on board.”
I quickly took them out from under his. “No, you’re the captain here. Where did you learn to sail anyway?”
He turned forward, eyes searching the horizon of islands. “I went to sailing school when I was young.”
“In New York?”
“Yes. New York has a long island.”
“Ha, I know that. How old were you?”
He glanced at me quickly and frowned. “You really like to know everything, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do,” I said crossing my arms. I didn’t get why he was such a stickler with details about his life, especially his life in New York. What’s the harm in talking about where he learned to sail or where he learned to play hockey?
The breeze was starting to pick up as we motored to the edge of the small harbor. It ruffled his hair around his eyes so I could only catch glimpses of them.
“I was 11. My father was a sailor and I was on the boat a lot as a child. He thought I should learn how to do it properly, in case I ever inherited the boat one day. So he put me in sailing classes at the yacht club. I did them once a week…for about a year. Mainly little skip boats but sometimes we would do races and gay shit like that.”
He was telling me so much, I almost felt like I should be writing it down. “Why did you stop? Was it because you were playing hockey?”
“No. I was doing both for a while. The years before I was also doing archery, competitive swimming and playing tennis at the same time.”
All very pricey sports to be involved in. His range was impressing me more and more. I always felt with Dex that one day he was going to reveal that he was a CIA agent or something like that. He seemed to have all these skills hidden up his sleeves to the point where nothing was starting to surprise me. Though picturing him doing archery and tennis was pushing it.
“So why did you stop?” I didn’t mean to bug him but he had just tried to avoid the question. “Didn’t you like sailing? You seem like a natural.” And with the wind in his face, his scruffy facial hair, the new cigarette hanging from his lips, and his dominating stance behind the wheel, that statement was all true.
“I loved sailing. I loved hockey too. Tennis was a lot of fun, even though I hated the people I competed with. Rich snobby f*ckers. And I was probably the best at swimming. You wouldn’t know it from looking at me now.”
His shoulders were rather on the broad side and he did have a nice V–shape going for him, especially leading down to his hipbones and… (stay on track, Perry) but he wasn’t your typical swimmer type. And he was still avoiding the question. I kept staring at him expectantly.
He sighed.
“My dad left and he was the one with the money. So, no more sports for Dex,” he said in a flat, robot–like voice.
I was shocked at that. I don’t know why, it wasn’t that unusual to have a broken home. I just didn’t see it coming. I felt bad for him, which is probably the last thing he wanted, so I nodded and asked as nonchalantly as possible, “Where did he go?”
Dex shrugged. “Beats the f*ck out of me. Who f*cking cares where that a*shole went? No skin off my back.”
“Did you ever see him again?” I felt like I was pressing my luck a bit.
He took a large inhale of his cigarette. Pause. “No. I didn’t. Didn’t even see him at my mother’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wanting to put my hands on top of his. They were starting to go a bit blue in the wind.
He adjusted his shoulders and his stance, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. “That’s life.”
There was so much more I wanted to talk about. This was the first time I really felt like I knew the real Dex. He had mentioned before that his parents were dead, but I had no idea one of them was metaphorically dead, which was worse in some way. To know they were still out there, but that you were dead to them and visa versa.
He finally turned his head to me. His eyes were dull, as if he had put up a shield to prevent me from learning anything more from them. “You got everything you needed to know?”
I shook my head. I wanted to know when his mother died and how she died. I wanted to know what it was like for him after his dad left. How it felt to give up all the privileges he had grown accustomed to. I wanted to know if he had any siblings. I wanted to know what high school was like for him. I wanted to know how all these things had affected the man who was standing beside me, piloting a boat towards the “Island of Death.”
“Tough tits, then,” he smirked. “Maybe we should do a session with you and your past. You know, find out why you seemed to be the subject of so many family therapy sessions when you were young. Unless your cousins were pulling my leg when they brought that up. Although, judging from the way your parents were talking to me about you, I can see that’s still a major issue in your family.”
My ears perked up and my heart slowed. “What did they say?”
The last thing I wanted was for them to say anything detrimental about me to Dex. Not in that way anyway. That shit was personal.
He enjoyed watching me squirm. “They didn’t say anything. Not really. Just that they worried about you. And they had hoped you had put all this ghost business in the past.”
“I don’t know what they are talking about it,” I said. That was the truth.
“That makes two of us, kiddo. And I didn’t ask either.”
Just then I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Saved by the bell… or silent mode.
I brought my phone out and looked at it. It was Ada.
– You on the island yet? Bumping uglies yet? –
I sighed and put it back in my pocket. Dex peered at me inquisitively.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting tweets and Facebook messages sent straight to your phone.”
I gave him a haughty look. “No. I am not. And not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t checked the blog more than once today.”
He looked at the clock on the instrument panel. “More than once? That would probably mean something if it wasn’t early in the day. Anything new from Miss Anonymous?”
“Yeah. How do you know it’s a girl?”
He quickly ashed his cigarette into the wind and said, “I don’t know. I assume. Chicks do that stupid stuff. Jealousy, remember. What did it say?”
I didn’t want to get into it so I gave him the Cliff Notes version. “The usual. I look stupid, don’t have what it takes to be a good host, don’t even belong on the internet.” I left out the part where they said I only got the job because I was sleeping with the cameraman. That was too embarrassing to mention and I didn’t want things to get awkward. Why they would assume that, I don’t know. It’s not like Dex was really ever on any footage. Even Ada was off and running with that assumption. Was I so obvious?
The wind turned sharp as the boat rounded a rocky barrier and we headed in a northeasterly direction, with small waves rising up from nowhere. I shivered, realizing that the clothes I had brought with me probably weren’t going to cut it during this trip.
“There are some jackets below in one of the cabins,” Dex said, noticing.
I nodded and I told him I was going to go down and start reading the books. I didn’t feel like getting into a conversation about “Miss Anonymous” and he obviously was done talking about himself. Only problem was once I made my way across the rolling ship and down the stairs, I started to feel sick and claustrophobic.
Inside was nice enough and did have a nautical and homey feel but it was quite small. The galley was tiny, as were the two back cabins and the living area. The double bed at the front (head) of the boat was larger and cozy. It didn’t seem to matter where I sat, the up and down movement from the waves and the overpowering roar of the engine (mixed with the smell of diesel fuel) gave me the largest headache and tickled my nausea bone, especially when I opened the books on D’Arcy Island.
I did manage to get some reading done before I had to shut them and lie down on the couch. What I read didn’t help to make me feel any better either.
Basically, at the turn of the century or just a bit before, Chinese lepers were gathered off the streets of Victoria, Vancouver and other places in B.C., and shipped to the island, where they were left to fend for themselves with no medical treatment. They had rudimentary housing and the only outside contact was from a supply ship that came every three months to drop off food, water, opium and…coffins. Turns out that when one of them died on the island, it was up to the lepers to bury them. They really were just left on the small island to rot away.
And some of them did rot away. The leprosy not only caused huge bumpy lesions on their bodies and faces, they also disrupted their nerve endings. On the eyes it would cause them to go blind. On their feet it would cause them to walk around with glass and other sharp objects embedded in them. They couldn’t feel any pain, so they didn’t notice, even if the wounds had been worn down to the bone. And their hands would often curl up and get burnt to a crisp – it was easy to burn your hand in the fire if you couldn’t feel it. Not to mention the fact that rats would come in the middle of the night and nibble away at their fingers until they fell off. Imagine waking up in the morning to find your fingers on the floor, breakfast for vermin. >
It was absolutely disgusting. Not just the disease but the way they were treated. I couldn’t imagine the lives they lived, knowing that no one cared, knowing that they were going to die there to a terrible disease. One of the books had mentioned that after awhile, people had taken pity on them and a reverend from San Francisco had lived on the island for a few years, taking care of them or at least observing them. But even with that comfort, too many men had already died.
“Perry!” I heard Dex bellow from the upper deck. I opened my eyes and gingerly raised my head, careful not to disturb the pukey feeling that was rustling around in my stomach. “Come up here! Whales!”
That got my attention. I walked unsteadily to the stairs and made my way up. Dex was at the wheel, trying to take a picture with his iPhone. He saw me and told me to get one of the video cameras from downstairs.
I did so, picking the smallest one, and brought it up. It was cold and bright up top, a change from the feeling below. I handed him the camera and followed his gaze. Off in the distance, a pod of killer whales were gliding through the water, their dorsal fins puncturing the waves like wet knives. I had never seen whales in the wild before. It was pretty amazing.
Dex brought the camera to his face and started to film them. “Can you take the wheel, skipper?” he asked.
I went behind it, feeling every bit like a pioneer.
“Just keep it on the same path. They have a law here that we can’t get too close.”
As much as I would have loved to see them closer, I had also heard horror stories about killer whales overturning boats. No thank you.
I kept the boat heading in the same direction while Dex filmed them. We didn’t say anything, just enjoyed watching them move through the water, the sunlight gleaming off their black heads, the misty spouts of air as they exhaled, the hazy green islands in the background. It erased the creepy, sick feeling I had below. I decided, even as the distance between us and the whales was steadily increasing, that I’d be staying on the upper deck for the rest of the journey. Cold air be damned.
When they were too far away to see clearly, Dex put the camera down and smiled at me. He looked genuinely happy and enthused, his eyes round and childlike. It suited him.
“How cool was that?” he exclaimed.
“Very cool,” I agreed, moving over so he could take over the wheel again.
“I’ve seen a lot of dolphins out here but never a pod of killer whales. I’m so glad I got that on film. That was amazing. What great f*cking luck.”
“Hoping to make this episode part nature documentary?”
“Nah. Hoping to lull people in with something beautiful so they’ll be shocked when everything starts going horribly wrong later.”
I shivered again, this time from what he said. “I don’t think we should plan on things going horribly wrong.”
“They always do, don’t they?” he commented.
“I guess.” Though we always did make it out alive, so I guess it never really went that wrong. That said, there was no way I would ever want to experience what happened to me in the lighthouse when Old Roddy had his kelp hands around my throat, nor when I thought I was going to be raped by local rednecks slash human hawks while in Red Fox.
“I’m just kidding you know.” He was staring at me with a frown of concern. I must have looked worried.
I gave him a weak smile. “I didn’t know but that helps. I don’t want to push our luck out here. And not on the Island of Death.”
“You’ve been doing some reading?”
“Yes. I really wish you had told me more about what went on back then…”
“Why? Would you have changed your mind about it?”
It was a possibility. Had I known I was going to an isolated island where 40 forgotten, miserable, rotted souls had died, I might have said no.
“I don’t know. Guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Too late now.”
“You’re right about that. There she is.”
I looked up and followed his gaze. A rather flat looking island comprised of rocky shoreline and dense forest was fast approaching the bow of the ship.
This was it. I knew it. There seemed to be an invisible wall of angry fog washing over the boat. Dex and I both shivered simultaneously.
I turned and looked behind me. The landmass of Vancouver Island seemed so close yet oh so far.