Chapter 17: Very Bad Memories

I found myself at the Seabreeze Restaurant and Sandbar Grill. I gave the bartender four fifties and told him to keep sending me Mojitos, and when I passed out, to put a sheet over me. I sat at a little table down by the pier listening the sound of the waves hit the pilings, watching the sun glitter on the wave tops. I raised my drink to take a long swallow. When I lowered my arm there she was--the woman commander from the naval base.

"It wasn't hard to find you. I just had to follow the stench of dejection."

I snorted.

"No shit. Two days with your manuals and I blew holes in the operations protocol. Something is drastically wrong here. YOU guys are supposed to be the pros." I shook my head. "We're in real deep shit."

"What makes you so goddamn pessimistic?"

My thigh itched a bit where the through-and-through had hit. I gave it a rub.

"Children don't anticipate getting hurt. Children don't believe in pain. Children can't conceive of betrayal. Adults, on the other hand, have to know these things instinctively."

I took off my shirt to show her my million dollar ticket that got me out of Detroit. Uzis tear pretty big holes in kids. I think I was twelve. Twelve or thirteen--I don't remember that time too well.

"Betrayal comes in many flavors. Betrayal by your friends when they set you up to take the hit. Betrayal by the cops that tell you "Oh, yeah, no problem. It'll be anonymous!". Betrayal by the Department of Children and Family Services when they come to get you, after the fucking cops got your family killed. Betrayal by the minister that said he'd take care of the crippled-up kid.

The recruiter didn't lie. The recruiter took me, even after they found the minister's body. It was out at the interstate rest stop, and it looked 'Cujo' ate it. The recruiter gave me the can of wasp killer to spray into the inside of the car to wipe out the fingerprints and DNA evidence."

I took another drink and looked over at her. She was hugging herself. looking at the ground and rocking in her chair. She wasn't shaking or crying. She wasn't making noises like a raped baby. Good. She'd be okay. I sighed and patted her shoulder.

I said in my most kindly voice "You're not ready for this. Go home. Take a bath. Have dinner. Have a drink. Watch TV. Some day when you want to talk about it go talk to one of the oldest sergeants you can find. They'll know. They'll understand. Trust me. They won't laugh."

I pulled another long swallow and emptied the glass. When I put it down she was gone. Too bad. She had a cute ass. I drank a few more. I fell asleep, listening to the water lap against the pilings and the creaking of the boat hulls against their mooring ropes.

I woke up in the morning with a bad taste in my mouth, and moderate sunburn. I made my way into the restaurant. I was amazed to find that I still had my billfold. It still had money in it! I remembered locking my briefcase into my S-10 before getting drunk. I abused their bathroom, bought a Bloody Mary and an egg sandwich. I thanked the bartender, left a $50.00 tip and drove to my rented home.

I took a nice, long hot shower, changed clothes and headed for a high-end mall. Of course, damned near all the malls in Hawaii are high-end. After all, everything has to be shipped in from 'The Mainland' or the Pacific Rim. I looked at tightly woven synthetic shorts and some long sleeved shirts dubbed 'fishing shirts' that were supposed to dry before you notice that they were wet and you weren't supposed to sunburn through them. They looked pretty good, too. Somehow they had permanent creases.

I picked up a half dozen shirts and shorts. As for shoes Ibought a pair of Bass Wejuns for looking good, and a pair of leather cross-strap sandals for feeling comfortable. I spent an afternoon working them over with warmed neatsfoot oil, to make them soft and comfortable on my bare feet.

Next, I went electronics shopping. My old laptop's keyboard was fried. I found a very expensive laptop with a quad-core processor, lots of ram and a bloody huge hard drive. It had a Linux OS loaded, full internet connectivity capabilities, an HDMI connector and two USB-3 ports. I also bought a spare battery, a battery charger and car adapter/charger. I sucked all the stuff I could off the old laptop, propped it against a curb, and ran over it with the pickup. It crunched in a most satisfying manner.

I found a Kwoon (a Dojo, or martial arts school usually teaching certain explicit schools), dropped a twenty in the box, and bought a Gi. The belt didn't matter. I wasn't feeling very focused. I went through my stretches and spent some time re-learning Tai-Chi. When I was finished I looked about. I was the only one in the hall. I slowly began running through my forms. I felt no joy, but I felt calm.

I practiced slowly and with rhythm. Soon they became easier, and the motions came back to me. I went into another form. My shoulder pulled, so I stopped and sat. I relaxed and tried it again. Soon I got past my previous stopping point, but it wasn't smooth. I stopped again, and rested.

I was getting hungry. I opened my phone and looked for a Chinese delivery place. As I ordered steamed rice, vegetables and shrimp I noticed a man sitting in the corner. I made the order for two. I sat and rested, trying to breathe correctly. The order arrived. I paid and tipped the driver, then approached the man in the corner. I offered a bag to him. He smiled, left, and came back with two big glasses of water. I smiled and nodded. We sat and had our lunches.