Two Cents for the Boatman

It had been a beautiful fall day. The sky was sapphire blue with a couple puffy white clouds rolling by. The sea was a deep shade of blue, Gently rolling beneath my car. The sun hung low off to my right. The panoramic view from the windshield of my blue VW Beetle.

Then, the world seemed to turn darker almost instantly as a big cloud rolled in from the west, blotting out the sun. It stretched across the horizon strikingly fast. Within the space of a few breaths the sky was covered in a deep haze and the sea had turned a dark metallic grey.

I got out of my car and stumbled towards the metal railing. It was one of those small old ferries where you drive on the back and drive off the front. There was a pilot house on the left side. Port side. Excuse me. And there was room for four cars, but mine was the only one.

I walked up to the pilot house, steadying myself with the handrail. Hanging on the front of the structure was a wooden box with a slot on top, held shut by a latch and an unlocked padlock. I took my money out and deposited it, a metallic taste lingering in my mouth.

I stepped around to the back of the box. The door hung open and swung out and in with the rolling of the sea. The captain was an old man, or he seemed to be, with a salt and pepper beard and a baseball cap with gold laurels on the brim. He wore a red rain jacket, that seemed more black than red with all the stains in it. His eyes had a boyish twinkle in them, though, and he seemed to keep a permanent friendly smirk on his face.

“We gonna be alright?” I asked, nodding towards the horizon.

“Just a little weathah,” he said in a thick coastal accent. “We’ll getcha where ya need to go.”

I smiled and looked back at the horizon. “I don’t know. Looks like it’ll get a little rough for a small boat like this.”

“Oh it’ll get choppy, for sure. But donchu worry. Ol’ Karen’ll get you exactly where you need to go.”

“Karen? Who’s Karen?” I asked.

“Karen’s the one who’s givin’ you a ride, sweethaht,” He said, stomping his foot on the deck.

“Oh!” I said. “What’d she do to get that name? Ask for the manager?”

He said nothing, but looked at me quizzically.”

“I guess you don’t spend a lot of time on the internet.”

“Nope. Not much. Am I missin’ out?” he asked with a smugger grin than his resting one.

“No, probably not,” I replied. “Do you mind if I stay in here with you?”

“Normally, I insist that my passengers remain in their cahs. But seein’ as you’re my only customah of the evenin’, I guess I’ll make an exception. You can have a seat there,” he said, nodding towards a metal stool in the corner.

I stepped in, closing the door behind me, and pulled up the stool. I sat down in front of the door and joined him staring out at the horizon. He kept his eyes on the sea. His left hand on the brass wheel and his right on a lever I assume was the throttle.

As we continued along the waves picked up. The boat pitched and rolled more and more. After a while water started crashing over the front of the boat, rushing past my car.

“Are you sure this thing’ll make it through this storm?” I asked.

“Take a look at her! Ol’ Karen’s been makin’ this trip since before you or I were born. I betchu she’ll be makin’ it long after,” he declared, confidently.

I looked around at the boat. The walls of the little cabin were coated in white paint. The surface was rough from where the paint had been applied over chips in the previous year’s coat. Beneath us, the diesel engine growled consistently, pushing us forward.

“O’ course, most people prefer to take the ferry outta Long Point. Longer trip, slower boat. But much bigger. More comfortable. Lots more room,” he said with a sigh. “That said, we have seen a slight uptick in business recently. I dunno. More people in a hurry, I guess. Speakin’ of, what’s got you in such a rush for you to be takin’ this boat? Meetin’ someone ovah there?”

“My son,” I said.

“Pretty young gal like you, you’re too young to have a son vacationin’ out there all on his own.”

I smiled. “He’s with my mother. Probably forgetting all about me. She was never shy about letting me know how much she wanted grandkids. She’s probably spoiling him rotten.”

He squinted, almost like he was holding back tears. “Be good to getchu back to him, I guess. Betchu miss him somethin’ awful.”

“I do,” I said, staring back at the horizon.

“He your only one?” He asked.

“No, I’ve got a daughter, too. She’s at home with her father, busy with school and life. They’ll come when they can. Me, I didn’t have anything else going on, so I figured I’d come out sooner.”

Karen rocked more and more. After some time, he turned the wheel hard to the right - starboard- into the storm.

“Is it normal to steer into the danger?” I asked, trying to conceal the panic in my voice.

“Gotta point her into the waves. Othahwise, they’ll tip us ovah. We’ll point her into the storm, and let the current take us back when the time’s right.”

His theory seemed to work for a while. Now, instead of rocking side to side, we were bouncing up and down, like going over hills on a roller coaster. But the more time went by, the bigger the waves got. And eventually they started crashing over the bow of the boat, onto the car deck, under my Beetle.

When it seemed like the waves were going to wash my car overboard, he pulled back on the lever. We bobbed up and down, completely at the mercy of the sea. The boat turned slowly, back east towards our destination. Then he turned and looked at me.

“Ya know, I hate to say it, hon. But I think you’re the reason for this. I think you’re a Jonah,” he said solemnly.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s a pity, too. I really liked that cah.”

“What?!”

Then he looked me in the eye, and shouted “PUNCH BUGGY!!!” Before punching me square in the chest.

I keeled over backwards off the metal stool and out the door onto the deck of the ferry. On my hands and knees, I looked up at him in disbelief, my chest throbbing. He said nothing, but looked back at me with that friendly grin before turning back around and slamming his hand forward on the lever, plunging the boat into a huge wave that washed me out into the sea.

I fought to get back to the surface, my chest pounding. I took two breaths and saw Karen chugging into the distance. Ahead of her, the sky opened up, and my powder blue Beetle disappeared into the horizon. Above me though, thunder cracked, the sky lit up, and a jolt of lightning streaked down from the sky into my outstretched hand.

I bolted upright and gasped. I was sitting on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. To my right, an ambulance attendant sat on a bench, staring at me, somewhat shocked.

I tried to take another breath and began to gag. He reached over and pulled a short plastic tube out of my mouth.

“You’re alright,” he said. “You’ve been in an acc- a car crash.”

“Oh God,” I sighed. “I”m not supposed to be here.”

“I’d say anywhere you are is where you’re supposed to be, hon,” he replied. “And this is where you are right now.”

He had a slight grin on his face. It wasn’t smug. It was friendly. And a boyish twinkle in his eye.

“Am I going to be okay?” I asked.

“I think so,” he said. “You were in the water for a while. But this time of year, the water’s nice and cold. Keeps all your organs preserved. You’ll be fine. Don’t think I can say the same for your Beetle though. Salt water ain’t exactly good for motors. Pity, I really liked that cah.”

He looked away and opened up a rugged laptop. He began typing information from my driver’s license, which was still in my wallet next to my son’s obituary card.

We spent the rest of the ride with me gently sobbing and him telling me it was alright. When we got to the hospital, his partner met us at the back of the ambulance and pulled me out on the stretcher. He got up to follow before turning back around.

“I almost forgot,” he said. “I pulled this outta your mouth when I went to put the airway adjunct in. Musta been on your dash. Funny the way things fly around in a crash.”

He placed a single gold dollar coin in my left hand. I laughed, remembering how much my daughter loved it when I got it as change in a vending machine a few months back. I’d kept it in the bug for her ever since so she could fiddle with it when we drove together.

“You should keep it as a tip,” I said. “Call it my fare.”

He smiled and looked away pensively, before turning back to look me in the eye.

“Ya know, this job ain’t like how it is in the movies and on TV, where the ambulance shows up and everyone magically gets better. The times when someone calls us and they actually need us, we’re usually too late. Most of the time I can’t help but feel like it’s all just a formality. A ritual we go through before we can call someone truly dead. So on a rare occasion like this, when things actually work out, it means more to me than I can tell you. I’m happy to bring you back, Miss. There’s no charge for that,” he said with his permanent smile.

“Well, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, too,” I said. And with that, he steered me into the hospital.