Susan Duke: Fool's Gold
On a perfect spring morning with flat seas and clear blue skies, Captain Eli P. Cooke made a terrible mistake. He bailed.
He easily could have returned to the dock to meet the day’s second charter, an even thousand dollars for sure. A shift in the cool breeze stirred repressed yearning in his soul and he inhaled the salty air he loved so much. He thought about calling Susan, but caution prevailed. He’d hardly ever bothered her at her teaching job. She would become suspicious, ask a lot of questions.
Well, you know what? He wasn’t in the mood to answer to anyone. He bailed.
By late afternoon, Eli had steered The Susie Q nearly a hundred and thirty miles past Miami, around the tip, and into Key West. With no specific destination, no drunken tourists from the Midwest demanding bigger and bigger marlin and kingfish, no wrinkled seniors expecting him to provide a final hurrah, Eli experienced liberated feelings he hadn’t enjoyed since before the boy had come along.
See, this is what soured everything. Eli had truly loved Susan and courted her with a passion that left them both breathless. She was so enraptured by his vagabond lifestyle, she transplanted from Peoria, Illinois to the east coast, knowing the sea flowed through her husband’s veins as surely as blood.
Naturally, they produced a child within a few years of settling in Florida. Susan returned to teaching and Eli dreamed of the day the boy would be mature enough to help him on the boat. That’s all he had desired, a son to sail and fish and run the charter business with him. Eli couldn’t wait to teach his heir all the boy would need to earn his license. Any sailor could run a boat and maybe wear a jaunty cap on his head, call himself “Captain.” The FWC required charter boat captains to carry a license. The Coast Guard poked their noses in when paying customers were involved.
Within a year and a half, Eli realized something was off with the kid. He was cute enough and seemed healthy. He screamed when Eli took him on the water. He hated the smell and noise of the boat. He rocked back and forth. He wouldn’t answer when Eli or Susan called his name. He threw tantrums and when Eli tried to smack his little bottom, Susan jumped in to argue with him.
If he couldn’t wield authority at home, Eli stayed longer and longer on his boat. At least he could be the captain on the water.
What did the doctors call it? Autism? Well, the boy didn’t get that from his side of the family. It wasn’t his fault. And there was no way they were going to move to Chicago so the boy could receive ‘early intervention and extensive therapy’.
Eli had originally thought to stay in the Keys. The sunsets alone were party events. He had sold The Susie Q, changed his name, and tried to budget. Work had been easy to find. Cruise lines came in and out of Key West all of the time. He didn’t need any papers to fill jobs on the docks. If you kept your mouth shut and did your job, cash flowed.
One warm night in July, his luck had turned. Eli had enjoyed a delicious dinner of jerk chicken, fried plantains, and steamed stone crabs. As he reached around the comely, young woman sitting on his lap, she had leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Eli had laughed and brushed her lustrous black hair from his nose.
“Quit, Marta. I want to drink my café Cubano while it’s still hot. Hand me that cup, will ya? And speak English. I’m getting better, but I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Within minutes of learning a private investigator had been snooping here and there in Key West, passing his picture around, Eli threw what little he needed into a duffle and fled.
In the next twenty years, he had crossed the Atlantic too many times to count, working cargo and container ships. Forged papers had cost a pretty penny but proved their worth often enough.
New York smelled of too many people. Ports in Europe had fulfilled Eli’s sense of adventure. A lengthy voyage through the Canal all the way to San Francisco had made him vow to never touch land again if he could help it.
Maybe it was the gambling bug that had bit him in Spain. Or perhaps it was when he saw younger muscle-brained guys getting the jobs he used to get. Probably, the arrest in St. Petersburg following a night of heavy drinking clinched his decision. Sleeping it off on a Florida beach wasn’t so awful, but spitting on and cursing a policeman resulted in charges of vagrancy and resisting arrest.
Two days in a hold tank sobered Eli and made him realize he was broke and essentially homeless. No roots had ever concerned him until now. A force he couldn’t define began to dominate his thoughts. He even dreamt of Susan and the boy while reclining on the hard jail issue mattress. Upon release, he headed north.
Ten years ago, Eli’s only trip to the Windy City had been a disaster. First, he detested being this far from the ocean. Second, he had misjudged his sister’s reception. He expected tears and embraces. Maggie had threatened to kill him.
“You are the scum of the earth!” she’d shrieked at her only brother. “Ten years!” She paced rapidly through the living room of her stylish condo as she ranted. She’d grabbed a glass pitcher and drew back her arm to throw it at him. “Ten years! You let us all think you’d drowned or something!”
He cowered as her tears fell. She sobbed until she ran out of breath and had to gulp for air. “Eli, why?”
Shrugging and offering lame excuses had only infuriated the attractive brunette more. “No. No. You tell me why you disappeared for ten years, leaving heartbreak and despair in your wake or so help me, I will hire someone to kill you. Hey, go out on the terrace and jump right now.”
Keeping his goal in mind, Eli had swallowed any shred of self-respect and submitted to her raving. He was thoughtless, worse than any low-life criminal. He was selfish and had thought only of himself. He didn’t deserve the air he breathed.
As she had paused to regain her composure, Eli said, “Okay. I get it. I really do. Now please stop with all this death wish nonsense. I’m your brother and I’m here now.”
Maggie snorted and flung herself onto a plush sofa. “Well, you’re a little too late, brother dear. Our mother died, calling your name. I’m the one who cared for her, changed her diapers, held her hand for a year. But in the end, she wanted you. I hate you.”
“Geez. What…”
“Pancreatic cancer, dummy. Maybe you’ll get that.”
Silence at last had hung between them for several minutes. His eyes took in her opulence and he had shaken his head. If you had to be a land-lubber, this was the only way.
“What’s that? You want to know about Susan and your son?”
He had sighed. “Of course. How are they? Did she look for me?”
For far longer than he had anticipated, Maggie detailed their search for the long-lost Eli Cooke. Initially, the Florida police expressed considerable interest, but with no leads for two years, Susan was advised to have him officially declared dead. The valiant little school teacher wouldn’t give up and had used the last of their savings on private investigators. Finding The Susie Q had broken her heart.
“It broke my heart to have to sell her, too.”
Maggie’s eyes had narrowed as she glared at him. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Maggie, I want to change, become responsible. Talk to Susan and get to know my son. Where is she now? Do you know?”
Maggie had laughed. “Too late again. Susan is married and very, very happy.” She regarded his shocked expression. “Oh, a beautiful, brilliant woman like Susan was supposed to wait indefinitely for you? I don’t think so. And, no, you don’t need to bother her. Do what you do best. Leave her and Andy alone. Leave. Now.”
She wasn’t going to fall for any of his tricks, so Eli had decided to lay his cards on the table. Ten years had made his sister so cynical.
“Okay, if you think it’s best. But, see, I’m hard up right now. If I had enough money, I could get another little boat and charter again. That’s what I was best at.”
Before he could continue, Maggie had held up both palms. “Go. Find a mission on Tenth. Here’s a twenty for a cab. Go and don’t ever come back.”
Over the next ten years, Eli had often pondered his sister’s bitterness. Wonder if Susan had felt like that? No way. She had been madly in love with him.
Eli decided to test the holiday season. Susan had always been a sucker for that holly and yuletide junk. He would try Maggie one last time. Besides, for some strange reason, he wanted to see Susan and to see how the boy had turned out. This time he would show the women in his life who was boss.
So, here he stood in a warm coat he’d picked up at the Goodwill in Ohio before heading to Chicago. Hitch-hiking served him well. He shoved his hands in his pockets as people scurried past him on the wide sidewalk, all in a hurry to get somewhere. Too bad these idiots didn’t know about the sandy, warm beaches of southern Florida.
Six hundred South Michigan Avenue. Why had Maggie told him to be here around noon? He looked up at the tall, classically styled building behind him. The Columbia School of Performing Arts. Was this some kind of cruel joke by his sadistic, off-balanced sister?
Eli hunched his shoulders as a cold wind off the lake blew swirling snow in his face. He just about decided to leave when the throw-away cell phone Maggie had given him beeped. He frowned and answered.
“We’re just leaving the restaurant now. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”
“Where? Where are you?”
“Across the street, salt-water brains. I can’t believe I’m doing this for you. I hate you.”
“I love you too, Sis.”
Eli watched as Maggie and a tall, handsome man in a long black wool coat ushered two younger people out of the restaurant and down the block to the cross walk. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at the boy. It couldn’t be. As the foursome hurried in the winter light toward him, the young man and woman laughed and talked. Pretending not to notice him, Maggie hooked arms with the man and lagged a few steps behind.
Eli attempted to not be obvious but was transfixed by the boy. He had thick, wavy dark hair, high cheekbones in a handsome face. A brightly colored coat with the Columbia school logo covered a tall, lanky frame. He stepped around Eli to hold the door open for an attractive young woman with honey waves cascading down her back. As the two entered, her laughter tinkled in the cool air.
"Excuse me,” a deep voice startled Eli. He looked up quickly as Maggie and the man brushed past him. Money. You could almost smell it.
In an instant, the four were swallowed up inside the building and Eli was left alone. He whipped his head around and stared across the busy street. She was looking straight ahead, sitting by herself at a table in the window. Eli hurried across Michigan Avenue and into the restaurant. He needed to talk to Susan.
Warmth and delicious smells bombarded his senses as he stood inside the door. He waved away the hostess and nodded toward Susan’s table. She sat with her back to him, sipping from a coffee cup and looking at a paper on the table. He sucked in a deep breath and approached. She still wore her hair long and free down her back. He’d always loved to run his fingers through it.
Without turning her head, she said, “Well, sit down, Eli.”
He sat and stared at his former wife. How could she be more beautiful than he remembered? The women he had known over the last twenty years hadn’t all aged well.
After an eternity, she looked up at him, those brown eyes large and luminous. Neither of them spoke. So she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He cleared his throat.
“Hi, Susie Q. How are you?”
She blinked and shook her head. “If you’re going to call me that, I’m leaving right now.”
Eli grinned. Spunk. He liked that in a woman. He looked across the table at her again and flinched. Her eyes were coldly serious. If he was going to get what he wanted, he’d better play this a little differently.
“I guess Maggie told you I was in town.”
Susan nodded.
He inhaled again, trying to think of how to get this conversation rolling. The direct approach with a little flattery. That could work. Those gold chains around her neck were probably real. That sweater must be cashmere.
“Susan, you look wonderful. After all this time, I didn’t know what to expect. But you don’t seem surprised at all to see me.”
“Twenty years, Eli. But knowing after ten, you were still alive was interesting.”
He nodded. “So, you and Maggie talk a lot? I don’t get that.”
She folded her arms in front of her on the table. Was that a protective gesture?
“I love Maggie. We’ve become best friends.” She paused for a few seconds. “And, she is a terrific aunt. Has been all this time.”
There. He knew she would work the boy into the conversation. He might as well face it head on.
"Hey, I was across the street. I saw him. What a great looking kid. He looks almost…normal. If you didn’t know…”
“Andy has Asperger’s, Eli. He isn’t crazy or retarded. In fact, he is brilliant. He’s playing tonight at the piano recital.” She gestured toward the building across the street. She touched the engraved invitation lovingly.
“Wow. And that pretty girl. Could a kid like him have a girlfriend?”
Susan shook her head. “So Maggie never told you. Sara is his sister, Eli. I was pregnant when you sailed off into the sunset.”
Now Eli blinked rapidly. “You mean I’ve had a daughter all these years?”
“Barely. Jack adopted Andy and Sara as soon as we were married. He’s raised them, Eli. He’s the father they know and love.”
Eli bristled and sat up straight. “Do they know about me?”
“Of course. I did think about telling them you were dead, but we don’t lie in our family.”
“I might want to talk to her.”
“Well, she’s an adult. Give it a try.”
“I just might.” He shifted in his seat. This wasn’t going well. “Look, Susie.” He slid his hand across the table. “I’ve never taken off my wedding band.”
Eli’s mouth opened in surprise. Her head was down and her shoulders were shaking. Was she crying? Had he gotten to her? This could be good.
“Here.” He handed her a napkin. “Don’t cry, honey.”
She blotted her cheeks and blew her nose. “You could always make me laugh, Eli. Scum that you are, you still can make me laugh.”
She was laughing?
“You never wore a wedding band. You said you didn’t want one. I have no idea where you got that fake gold band. Now, what do you really want?”
In spite of having blown his chance, Eli laughed, too. “I guess this means I can’t hit you up for a loan?”
She rose, slipped on her forest green Burberry, gathered her things and said, “Nope.” With a tailored gloved hand, she pushed the enamel carafe across the table. “Here you go. Hot coffee. Don’t worry. Jack already paid the bill.”
After Susan walked out the door, he turned and watched her cross the street. She was truly beautiful. Twenty years. Man, time flies.
He snatched a clean cup from a neighboring table and poured. It smelled heavenly. Might as well. He took stock. Well, I’m no worse off than when I came to this forsaken town. I’ll get back to the ocean somehow. That’s where the good life is. I better start hitch-hiking soon. I sure don’t want to miss out on anything. DSS
Susan Duke, of East Peoria, IL., manages a self-storage facility when she is not writing short stories. She has been a teacher of children with special needs, and enjoys watching a grandson's ball games and concerts. Her stories have been published in several literary journals.
Another story of male flight, with sad results. To keep these good stories coming, donate here to Downstate Story.