Forgetting - part two

Continued from Yesterday's episode.

Bill's story really began on a Coast Guard Cutter during the Vietnam War.  Bill and his friend, Montana Jones, joined the Coast Guard together because Irish sons of fishermen were getting drafted.  How an Irish kid from Gloucester, Massachusetts gets named Montana is a topic for another day.

They found themselves on this Cutter coming back to Boston harbor after patrolling the Caribbean Ocean for several months.  While there they stopped off in Jamaica and while in Jamaica they'd loaded 2,000 pounds of marijuana aboard the ship. Yes, that's right.  They decided to engage in a bit of side business while performing their official duties. 

How involved either of them were in the operation is hard to say.  They claim to have been bystanders, but it's quite a stretch to imagine the hard-drinking barrel of man, Montana Jones, being a bystander to anything.  But to hear the tale told, Bill and Montana were minding their own business.  They didn't buy the drugs, load the drugs, or tell the authorities.  That last part is very important because someone told the authorities.

They entered Boston Harbor with the wind to their backs on a fine sunny Friday afternoon.  Bill was on deck.  Montana was busy stowing gear, so this part Bill tells.

“I was watching the piers get bigger as we moved in, 'cause that's what we usually do, bring the boat in and then turn down the line and head for the Coast Guard docks.  So I'm watching all the ships and the workers, you know, like ants on the shore scurrying about and I see a bunch of ants not scurrying. There's a bunch of 'em standing at attention.  With guns.  I was sure of it.  They were dressed in green.  Sure enough, an entire contingent of the Massachusetts National Guard were lined right up. It was enough to make a man proud, except if it was you they were waiting for,”  he always gulped down the last of his Bud Light at this point.  Time for a new one. 

The details are a bit fuzzy, I admit that.  It's because I can't really get a straight story from these guys, but the essence of it is that they got held for a few days and then discharged from the Coast Guard.  The Captain got court-martialed and jailed.

****

Bill walks around the Intensive Care Unit.  His doctor said that was fine, that a man so used to being active for sixty years didn't have to lie in a bed if he could get up.

“Dad, where are you going to walk, the hallway in my apartment is longer than this one,” Jack says. He doesn't like walking the hall with all the open doors.  It feels like a gallery of the dying.  He told me that on the phone. 

Bill walks with his callused Irish hands folded behind his back.  He's only five and a half feet tall and his hospital gown swings around revealing his pink ass.  He winks at nurses when they notice. 

“Bill, don't you get bored walking up and down the hall?” the pretty nurse from last night asks him. 

“Miss, I'm a Gloucester man.  If boredom was a problem for us, we'd have had a run on shotguns years ago,” he says.  He's got a great smile, like a leprechaun's: fun and mischievous.  She laughs and pats him on his shoulder.  “A little lower,” he jokes. 

Back in his room Bill's roommate is having a really hard time figuring out how to use a fork.  The fork part of his brain had to be removed.  In frustration he throws the utensil and flips his tray onto the floor, spilling pudding and mash along with six ounces of apple juice.  The man used to be letter carrier for the post office.  Now he can't deliver food to his mouth.

“Don't worry, friend,” Bill says, pacing along the foot of their beds.  “You've got a lot of time to learn those things again.  Look at me, I'm up and walking.”

“You and me don't have that much time,” the surly patient growls.  “I'm sixty-five.  How old are you?”

“The name's Bill and I'm twenty-one,” Bill says.

“Dad, you're sixty,” Jack says.

Bill looks at him with his head tilted slightly to the left.  “How'd that happen?”

He's not smiling.  It wasn't a joke.

****

After the coastguard, Bill and Montana stayed in Gloucester.  Montana went out fishing with his father until they were ready to kill each other.  Then he hired out on other boats.  Bill apprenticed to a carpenter and found the work he loved. He's now one of those carpenters who can pull a board and tell which way it's going to bend when it ages and how long it'll need to season in the lumber rack before it's ready to use.  Running his hand along a piece of cedar, it'll talk to him and tell him where to make the best cuts. 

While he was still an apprentice, Bill was framing a kitchen addition in one of the mansions on the hill when Mary walked in.  She needed ice for her gin and he stopped work and stared at her.  In the age of Aquarius Mary was one of the privileged freedom set.  She protested the war with her long black hair tied into Indian braids.  She'd shed tears for the poor, her emotion dripping from crystal eyes, over sculpted cheeks, and down her alabaster neck.  In art school she painted abstracts representing the futility of poverty and the abuse of the underclass.  At home she hung her paintings in her grandmother's parlor. 

She smiled at Bill, got her ice, and looked back twice before leaving for some other part of the house.    She was home after dropping out of college again and had put her life in a holding pattern.  To Bill she was the most beautiful woman in the world.  To Mary, Bill was a dangerous infatuation. 

There were more stolen glances as he built the addition, and some smiles, and then some conversation.  One day Bill was putting his tools away and Mary stalked right up to the truck.

“Let's go get a drink,” she said. Thus began Mary's introduction to the exciting and seedy underside of Gloucester – the bars, the rough men and rougher women, and the raucous laughter.  At first they only had two things in common, the sex and the drinking.  But Bill didn't see it that way because he loved Mary in a way that the love itself is worth living for. 

When he proposed Mary was flattered and happy.  When she told her father, he was outraged that she'd even consider marrying a man without money, without an education.  She became even more convinced it was the right thing to do.  So they got married despite threats to cut off support and inheritance.  They got married and they had a baby.

Mary knew it wasn't working out and she became bored.  She and Bill fought with the same passion they threw into making love.  Passion kept them together and passion tore them apart.  Eventually even the fighting became boring and Mary left Bill and all they had in common any longer was Jack. 

To this day the worst Bill will about Mary is, “That woman in a fucking lunatic.”  In Gloucester that's a compliment.  Sometimes, after a few Bud Lights and a couple of Irish songs, Bill turns to Jack and says, “Your mother is still the most beautiful woman I've ever known.”

Bill never remarried.

****

Bill paces along the hallway in the I.C.U.  Jack watches him.  They're both waiting for the results of the latest biopsy.

“Dad, mom called.  She wanted me to tell you that she still loves you,” Jack says.

“Who's that?”  Bill says.

“Mom.  Mary.  She called.”

“I don't know her,” he says.  He turns to walk back down the hallway.  Glimpses of pink Irish ass peek out from the hospital gown.

Comments

[a rose is a rose]

THIS is now my second favorite story (the records still and i think always will be number 1. as i said, i could feel it from beginning to end). thank you for sharing (once again. but it's important to me to extend my thanks to YOU)

[Cherise]

I have to agree with Rose, this story has quickly climbed the ranks. I think not remembering is horrible, but witnessing those you love not remembering is singularly one of the most painful things in the world. This story makes me heart heavy. :(

[Cele]

An amazing tale Rick, thank you for sharing. I love the way you wrapped it all together in a neat circle allowing us all a glimpse at Bill's joy, Bill's past, and sadly Bill's tomorrows.

[bex]

I love all stories involving mean Mr Montana... this one is particularly good, tho.

Some day you'll have to explain how Steve figured out that Billy was in the hospital...

[CV Rick]

Rose, odd thing about the records story. It was a last-minute post - the result of procrastination. I wrote that one late at night without any planning, just threw it together without any proofreading or editing. I was surprised how well it resonated with everyone.

Cherise, Cele, I'm glad you liked it.

Bex, I wish I knew how Steve figured it out . . . that's one hundred percent true . . . Jack called me and told me the story right after it happened. Magic? or just the abilities of Gloucester Lobstermen.

[a rose is a rose]

i've been to gloucester (and i do love the area). it's in their blood. they ALL know. why? because they HAVE to. hard lives..........