My Journal by Harriman Nelson- Lean on Me

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My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

57

 

“Admiral?” Sharkey called out as he knocked on my  half open door.

“In,” I called out.

“Sparks is getting a broadcast but he said you have the ‘no access' button on your monitor turned on.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to see it.”

“But sir!” he practically gasped in horror.

“You can watch it  on one of the shipboard monitors, if you want. Now, leave me alone. Ames faxed me an important form I need to take care of.”

“Yeah...we heard about that…” he said. “Permission to speak, sir...”

“Denied,” I said coolly.

For a moment I thought he’d disobey me and talk to me anyway, but in the end he simply said ‘Aye sir’ and left me to myself.

 

Left me to myself so I could sign the damn form and be done with it.

 

Instead, I caved in and turned the remote access button on. The broadcast was  already showing Melina and the nun waving goodbye to Lee and Joe on their rental at the dock in Santorini. I couldn’t help noticing that he’d only kissed Melina on the cheek.

“Perhaps,” the reporter was saying, “the religious presence of Miss Gounaris’ chaperone put a damper on any more passionate kind of farewell. Captain Nelson-Crane and Commander Jackson will be sailing their rental back to Corfu, and from there they will ferry to Italy, then catch a train to Spain. Even if they make good time, they’ll probably be late rejoining the Piccadilly Culinary Tour.

“There are also unconfirmed rumors that the captain and Admiral Nelson have had a major falling out but there  has been no comment from NIMR regarding any change in the captain’s position at the institute. In other news...." 

Chip clicked the monitor off.

“I didn’t notice you hiding in the doorway....” I said wearily.

“Your door was open...want to join me for supper? Beef Stroganoff.”

“Stroganoff? Hardly Greek or Spanish.”

“Cookie’s playing it neutral....”

“Oh good grief, tell him he can continue with Lee’s culinary cuisine. I don’t care....Chip? Did Lee look a little....haggard?”

“Well, I did notice dark circles under his eyes, but it’s not unusual for him.”

“Mr. Morton,” O’Brien called over the PA, “we’re having a problem with the diving planes.”

“Be right there,” Chip answered on the mike. “Duty calls,” he grinned at me and left.

Duty. Thank God I’d have something else to think about than Lee.

 

Entry #58