My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

61

“Shit!” I spouted as I saw that I’d overslept. Apparently the wake up call had been misunderstood, or I’d slept through it. No, the volume control had been preset to ‘low’.

Just after I’d showered and dressed, my cell phone vibrated in my pant’s pocket. For once I was glad of the nasty critters as I was expecting Chip to call. I don’t like cell phones. I’m in no need of texting, no need of cameras. Are these damn things phones or not? You call me, I call you. We talk. That’s what a phone is for. Period.

“Morning, Admiral,” Chip said, “we’re in port.  And there’s something more... I recorded it for you...seems our little plan went awry. Here...I’ll show you...oh by the way, I tried to call earlier and leave a voicemail. Do you realize that you haven’t set up your voicemail box yet?”

“Sorry.”

“Here,” he said and punched a few buttons....the image formed of Lee on my phone so I guess I'd been mistaken about the damn things….

“At last,” Lee was saying as he dragged in the rest of his luggage and flopped on the bed. He was still in the same hiking shorts he’d put on yesterday. I  could see at a glance that the hotel wasn’t mine. In fact, it was  probably located in the seedier side of town, the neon sign blinking through the dawn’s early light. (Yes, yes, I know that’s a phrase that has become synonymous with part of the national anthem, but it was dawn and it was early light, so there.)

“Joe?” Lee yawned, “we really have to find a Laundromat. We stink. I bet all our clothes do,” he added and closed his eyes.

“I’ll see what I can find...you know, these online translators aren’t that good," he said from his laptop, "though, they do come in handy if my character’s visiting a foreign country or something...Lee? Lee? Hey, wake up, bro. You have to get ready for the museum.”

“You go...”Lee said as he burrowed deeper into the pillow, still covered with a bedspread of questionable vintage and cleanliness.

 “Somehow, bro, “ I don’t think I can get any ‘vibes’ regarding the artifacts they want you to see and touch...besides, that lookalike in your vision is probably your ancestor, not mine.”

“He might not be an ancestor at all,” Lee yawned.

“Yeah, well, it’s you they’re expecting, Lee, not me. God, I ‘m hungry. Those food bars we took on the trail and finished off on the  rest of the train ride just didn't do the trick, of course, you didn’t have to share some of them to those other two hikers.”

“Wonder how they are...”

“Well, at least the hiking club got to them in time. Can you imagine it? They got a call from a doctor in Arizona about a man in danger of a heart attack if he continued the trail.”

“I don’t think Sam was too pleased about being hunted down like that,” Lee said.

“Sam didn’t realize he was about to have a coronary...”

“They didn’t find anything wrong with him on the trail! I’d be interested to know what, if anything, they found. And just how a call came in all the way from Arizona by a doctor that didn’t even reveal his patient's name. I think I smell a rat. A great big red headed  rat. And maybe some accomplices. ”

“You can’t think that Nelson had anything to do with it?” Joe asked.

“Oh, don’t I?”

“The call came  from Arizona. Sam was from Arizona. And the doctor got the info from a different patient who knew Sam. He wasn't the doctor's patient."

“Didn’t say who the other person was.”

“You are a master of suspicion, Lee.”

“All they had was a description...which was a pretty darn close match to me and you.”

“Except  we’re from California. And we weren’t panting on the trail like Sam was. Looked  to me like he was a prime candidate for a coronary. That call just might have saved his life.”

“If they found anything at the hospital they took him to....Jamison went to medical school in Arizona.”

“So?”

“What would have stopped him from getting an old buddy to call to have the authorities check us out....no, you’re right. It’s too preposterous. Jamie wouldn’t even have known about us getting off the train to take a hike... Sorry, Joe, I guess I’m  too suspicious, just like you say. Find a laundromat nearby yet?”

“Well I think so...’lavanderia’. Just down the road....”

“Great. Let me peel out of these, hop in the shower...”

“Down the hall, remember. Along with the toilet. Er...take some disinfectant wipes with you...I think this place might also be used for other things than just sleepy tourists. Hey, that’s an idea for a story! A couple of tourists are arrested because the hotel they’ve signed into is also a brothel. Yeah, that’s it....”Joe said happily as he began to peck away.

“You and your brilliant ideas...” (It was not a compliment.)

“Got to jot them down before I forget...Not that I’ll ever get published,” Joe sighed.

“Ah c’mon, you will. You’re a good writer, Joe. It’ll happen. You just wait and see.”

“Thanks, bro,” Joe grinned and continued to peck away.

The image faded and Chip reappeared on the screen.

“All that happened after they both cleaned up was that they left, arms full of dirty clothes stuffed into plastic bags. But then, oh ,you have to see this....”

A new image formed of Lee, sitting on top of a washing machine, his feet moving in synch to the swishing sound of the water, as Joe, laptop in hand to the right of him, but at least in a chair. There were a few women in the place, chattering amongst themselves, while ragamuffin children played in and around them. There was an old TV on the wall, advertising something. Just then the women gasped, turned and stared at Lee.

It had to happen sooner or later, I suppose. For there Lee was on the TV,  in his tight black jeans and white ruffled shirt open to the waist, the caption below stating ‘El automovil de los heroes’ and ‘Capitan Nelson-Crane’.

I’ve been exposed to enough Spanish to decipher ‘the automobile of heroes’ but it was the reaction of the women that caught my attention. They squealed in delight that the hero was here, even if he looked like a kid atop the washer.

In minutes some of the older matrons were patting his cheeks, some running their hands through his hair, the younger women ogled him suggestively, and all dragged him to Joe’s chair, pulling Joe off of it and pushing Lee down into it.

Then they took over his laundry. (The washer had just stopped). Arguing amongst themselves, I was pretty sure, as to the correct dryer setting, or to hang some of the items up to air dry.

Joe and Lee were furiously leafing through the phrase book to find the words to get them to stop, the laptop temporarily abandoned, but to no avail.

“Hey!” both boys exclaimed as one of the younger women held up a pair of Lee’s briefs and began to roam her hands over them.

A matron slapped the young woman’s hands, scolded her (I have no idea what she said) retrieved the briefs and tossed them into one of the dryers along with other pieces of underwear, socks, pajamas, sweats, etc. Another matron separated some of the other clothes, including the now clean hiking shorts to put them in a different dryer.

Joe’s washer stopped and the women attended to his laundry as well, though the pieces didn’t get quite the same level of reverence.

The women chattered incessantly, then one asked “Teines hambre?”

Joe handed her the phrase book. She found what she was looking for and handed it back, pointing to the phrase.
“She wants to know if we’re hungry.”

“Er...”

“Si, si,” Joe said, deciding for the both of them.

Immediately the women began to drag the boys out of the laundromat, Joe’s laptop forgotten. Suddenly one of the women returned, closed the lid and presumably shut it down as both audio and visual failed.

“Well, that’s it, so far,” Chip said.

“I wonder where the women took them?”

“Who knows? Can you imagine women, total strangers, fondling your underwear?” Chip laughed. “Lee must be livid...though at least he handled the situation pretty graciously, even though he was flustered about it.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Morton,” Sharkey interrupted from behind Chip. “We just can’t find the cause of the problem. We need the skipper. He’d figure it out in no time.”

“Yeah, like,” Riley piped up, “it’s like the Seaview just didn’t want to go home without him....”

“Thank you Riley,” Chip said, “have the repair team take a break, Chief.”

“Aye sir, but…you know, the kid might be right…”he muttered as they departed.

“I’m inclined to agree, Chip,” I said, “however, there has to be a more plausible explanation. I’m tempted to request Naples to send those techs down here. But hold off for just now. I’d better say goodbye and get to the museum.”

“Very well, sir…good luck,” Chip replied and ended the call.

I decided against joining Mrs. P. for breakfast, having no appetite and itching to get to the museum ahead of Lee. I regretted not having any of the famous Spanish coffee I’d heard praised. Still, it was a bit early for the Carajillo, a kind of Irish style coffee that uses Brandy.

 Still, after what I’d just seen, I felt a little bit like celebrating with any kind of spirits and wondered if I might find a coffee shop near the museum for after I’d retrieved the faxed document and letter.

 As for Lee, while he still might have those dark circles under his eyes, and was definitely still sleep deprived,  the vision of him sitting atop that washer, energetic feet gently tapping in tune to it,  like a ten year old, made me laugh.

As I tidied up after myself and picked up yesterday’s shorts off the bathroom floor I could not for the life of me even imagine a lady fondling them. But then, there’s always hope!