Page 14 of Forever Endeavor

CHAPTER 6

Billie

Prying open her shriveled eyeballs, Billie strained to make out the fuzzy numbers on the bedside clock reading quarter to holy shit why is it so freaking bright in here? It took a moment to recall why she was in a strange bed, in a strange room, in a strange house, but then she remembered doing shots at The Pell, and the rather generously-poured nightcaps that followed after she and Sonny returned home. Ugh. Thinking only roused the construction zone of jackhammering in her noggin.

Still squinting, she felt her way to the bathroom and helped herself to aspirin. She washed down the tablets with a handful of tepid tap water, swishing to relieve the dryness in her mouth as if she’d been chewing a cotton tube sock all night. Hearing movement in the kitchen, she put on a sweater over her bra and panties and –urp. Oh God.The room started to spin. She dropped to the edge of the mattress to keep from falling onto the floor. Deep breaths in and out. After a few sobering minutes had passed, she finished dressing and made her way down the stairs, clinging tight to the railing. Cal waved, his gluey white fingers gloopy with fish batter.

“Well, well, ‘morning Sunshine,” he said with a chuckle. “Or shall I say, good afternoon?”

Billie shielded her eyes from the blinding light shouting at her. “Is it really after noon?”

“Sure is. Time to start on lunch.”

Her guts sloshed at the thought of eating anything, especially greasy fish, as a tidal wave of nausea nearly knocked her over. “I’ll take a hard pass, thanks.”

“What you need is the hair of the dog that bit ya.” He nudged his head toward the fridge. “Crack open a cold one and then grab a plate. The booze will fix your head and the fried food will settle your stomach.”

Billie followed his instructions and then sat at the table as oil crackled and popped in the pan. “Fish again? Is that all you two ever eat around here?”

“This is no ordinary fish. This is a delicacy. The freshest Wisconsin white fish you’ve ever tasted, caught this morning while you were still far away in slumberland.”

Billie watched Cal as he kept an eye on the hotplate. Despite his grey hair and beard, his youthful sparkle kept the sailor’s age a mystery. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Ask away.”

“You ever think about retiring? I don’t know how old you are and you’re obviously still in pretty good shape, but fishing sounds like hard physical labor.”

“I’m sixty-six. That probably sounds ancient to you, and it sure as hell looks ancient in the mirror. But as for retiring, well, what do most fellas do when they retire? Golf or fish. So I might as well keep doin’ what I’m doin’ until I can’t do it no more.”

Cal lifted two crisped-up golden fillets out of the oil, drained them, and then plated them with a fat lemon wedge before sliding them under her turned-up nose. “Mind if I ask you something now? Why were you really on your way to the Dominican?”

It hurt her throbbing head when she sighed. “Like I mentioned, I’m having trouble writing. I need to buckle down and get my next novel finished…er, started, really. My publisher thought a change of scenery might do me good, but I’m not so sure it’ll help. I’m afraid my best writing days are behind me.”

“Just because the fish don’t bite on Tuesday doesn’t mean they won’t bite on Wednesday. It’s a temporary setback, a dry spell. What you need is some inspiration.”

“Inspiration and two bits will buy you a hot cup of jack squat,” she said. “You see, my novels are fairy tales and readers expect a guaranteed happy ending. Problem is, I don’t believe in happily ever after anymore. At least, not like I used to.”

“So, who is he?” Cal asked.

“Who?”

“The bastard who broke your heart.” He shoveled in a forkful of fish. “Seems like the most reasonable explanation.”

She took a chug of beer to clear the lump in her throat. “Long story short, I was married to a wonderful guy who turned out to be not so wonderful after all. Since I found out, I haven’t been able to string together more than a few sentences.” Feeling up to trying the fish, she took a small bite. It didn’t make her want to hurl so she had another. “You ever married, Cal?”

“Meg and I had twenty-one years together until cancer stole her away.”

His pain pierced her heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“The doctor gave her six months to a year, and we clung to that diagnosis, but it ate up her insides and took her in a matter of weeks. She got shorted out of her life sentence.”

“See? Marriage can only end in one of two ways. Death or divorce.”

“Hmph, now you sound as cynical as Sonny. How long since your divorce?”

“Two years.”

“No relationship since?”