Date: Fri, 12 Oct 2012 11:43:37 -0700
From: Phil R <171.r99@gmail.com>
Subject: The Window Washer Chapter 6

The Window Washer

Chapter 6

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If it is illegal for you to read about consensual sex between two adult
males stop now.  If you have any comments please email me at
171.r99@gmail.com.  Thanks for reading.


I somehow managed to make it across the courtyard, and through the gate.  I
was relieved when the gate closed.  It created a safety barrier between Rob
and me.

I drove away thinking very uncharitable thoughts about Robert Mitchell, and
about his family, and about the bloody Porsche.  So much for being "part of
the family," I'd just been tossed out like yesterday's trash.  Rob made it
very clear.  IT'S OVER.

Rob wanted respect.  Well, he'd get respect.  I would respect him mightily.
I would rot in hell before I contacted him again.  IT'S OVER.

I got to the airport and bought a seat back to Vancouver on United
Airlines.  There was no way on God's earth that I was going to fly Alkasa.

When I got home and saw Rob's car I wanted to get a sledge hammer and pound
it to a million pieces.

You get the picture.  Jerry Hardwick was one pissed off accountant.

This nasty mood lasted until I arrived at my apartment and turned the
deadbolt on the door.

Then the realization of my loss hit hard.  It was as if a policeman had
come to my door and delivered news of death.  Shock, disbelief, then a
sudden, hard acceptance of reality.  Rob was gone.  Forever.  Every cell in
my body screamed in pain.

I dragged myself to bed and curled up in the fetal position.  It was the
first of many, many sleepless nights.

For the first week I never left my apartment.  When the food in my
refrigerator ran out I ate canned tuna.  When the cupboard was bare I
ordered in pizza.

No one had my new phone number so I lived in a self-imposed exile.  Alone,
with alternating moods of anger and self-pity.

Then one day remorse arrived.

If only I hadn't fucked up.  If only I had seen the warning signs.  If only
I had told Rob about the money sooner.  If only I hadn't gotten mad.  If
only, if only....

But it was over.  I could flagellate myself forever, but it wasn't going to
bring Rob back.

I was miserable.  I had money but nothing to live for.  No job.  No
husband.  No future.  Nothing.

I did the one thing that would bring me a sort of solace.  I started
running again.  I ran to the point of exhaustion--well past the endorphin
high.  I ran like that every day for a week and gradually my head began to
clear.

They say the final stage of grief is acceptance.  For me that came with the
realization that life as I knew it was over.  I had to start again.  Forge
a new life.  Only I had no idea, whatsoever, what to do....

Finally, I phoned Jennifer and told her I was back in Vancouver, alone.  I
told her about the sale of the business but I wouldn't talk about Rob,
saying only that it was over.  She asked me to dinner.  I refused.  I
offered to buy something for her and Paul.  She thanked me but politely
declined.  She asked about my plans for the future.  I told her I didn't
have any.

I called Janice.  She told me there were no hard feelings at the office.
The BigSoft guys had offered generous incentive bonuses to the staff that
stayed.  I offered to help her financially and she told me that wasn't
necessary.

Finally, I contacted my parents.

"Hey, Mom."

"Jerry, something's wrong," she said.  "I can tell."

"We sold the business," I said.

She called my father to pick up the extension phone and I filled them in on
the details--including how much money I had received.  They congratulated
me heartily.  Mom asked about Rob.  I told her simply that it was over.
Thankfully she didn't press for details.

They asked what my plans were.  I changed the subject.

"I'd like to do something nice for you two," I said.  "Buy you a new house,
or car or something."

"Jerry," Dad said, "What you have may seem like a lot of money but it will
go pretty fast if you're not careful.  Hang on to it.  At least until you
know what you want to do."

"Please...." I begged.  "This money is like a curse.  Nobody wants anything
to do with it.  Buying something for you is the only thing that would make
me feel good right now."

They heard the desperation in my voice and agreed to think about my offer.

My parents may not be perfect, but they are kind.  Dad phoned the next day
and said they would like to buy a recreational vehicle.

"So we can be snowbirds," he said.

"Dad, that's great.  Perfect.  I'm really pleased."

"Jerry, thank you....  Your mother and I are really excited."

It was the first time in two weeks that I didn't feel like a condemned man.

I began to think I should do something for myself.  A treat.  To cheer
myself up.  I thought of, and dismissed, a number of possibilities.  A new
watch.  I didn't need one.  A new car.  I liked my current one.  A new
apartment.  Hard to beat place I had.  I didn't need or want anything.

I thought about going on a trip.  I'd only ever been to Mexico and Hawaii,
and California.  But the thought of flying was just too painful.  Too many
bitter memories.

The only thing I really craved was solitude.  So I could lick my wounds in
peace.

The next day I set off on my usual run.  When I got to the waterfront, I
didn't turn left, as I invariably did, to pick up the seawall around
Stanley Park.  I turned right.  That took me past a hotel, a floating
restaurant and a large marina.

As I passed the marina, a sign caught my attention.  It was a sign I'd seen
many times before without really noticing, but that day it struck a chord.

Suddenly, I knew, with absolute certainty, what my future held.

I stopped running, turned around, and walked down the marina ramp.

On the dock was a small hut.  Over its glass doors was the sign that caught
my attention.  "YACHT SALES" There was a middle aged guy in the hut working
at a computer.  I asked him if I could look at the boats.  He took a look
at my running gear and dismissed me with, "Sure, let me know if you have
any questions."

There were at least twenty boats for sale.  Most were fairly large.  About
half of them were big, boxy, power things.  They looked luxurious but
didn't appeal.  The sailboats interested me.

I stopped in front of the nicest looking one.  It was long and sleek.  Its
hull was white with blue lettering on the side.  I looked at it for a few
minutes and made up my mind.  I just had one question.

I went back to the hut and asked, "That sailboat over there, the white one
with the blue writing, will it sail across the ocean to Hawaii?"

"The Beneteau 423," he said.  "Yeah, it's fully equipped for ocean sailing.
You could sail single handed to China and back, no problem."

"I want it," I said.

"Yeah, you and five hundred other people," he laughed.

"No, I'll buy it," I said.

He frowned.  I could see he was struggling to stay polite.  Clearly, I was
a complete flake, but on the other hand....

"Don't you want to know how much it costs?" he asked.

I shrugged.  "Doesn't matter."

"Have a nice day," he said.

"I'm not joking," I said.  "I'm buying that boat."

He was an experienced salesman.  He looked at me closely.  He knew.

He put out his hand.  "Dave Green," he said.

"Jerry Hardwick," I said, shaking his hand.

He motioned me to sit.  I sat.

 "Colibri will set you back over two hundred grand," he said.

"That's okay.  What's a Colibri?"

"The name of the boat.  It means `hummingbird' in French."

"Perfect," I said.

"Jerry," he said.  "You're not a sailor.  You don't know the first thing
about boats.  What's your plan here?"

I explained that I didn't have to work anymore.  That I no commitments and
no ties.  That I would devote full time to learning to sail.  And when I
was ready I would sail to Hawaii.  Then after that I would decide where to
go next.

"You may not have a sailor's skills," he said.  "But you have a sailor's
heart."

Then he took me to look at Colibri.  He told me she was forty three feet
long and then pointed out the navigation equipment in the cockpit.  He took
me below into the beautifully appointed cabin.  It was all finished in
mahogany and leather.  There was a well equipped galley and a navigation
desk with more instruments.  It was bright and airy with large windows and
skylights.  There were two staterooms, one forward and one aft.  And two
heads.  He showed me the Volvo diesel engine and the storage lockers.  I
loved what I saw and I was leaning a whole new language.

Dave talked to me for nearly two hours.  He was a skilled sailor and told
me what I needed to learn.  He recommended a local sailing school.  He
outlined the process of buying Colibri.  He suggested I sublet a mooring
slip that had come available for the next few months.  He was exactly the
mentor I needed.

Later, as I walked away, I realized that I had barely thought about Rob for
two hours.  I knew he would always sit like a rock on my heart.  I would
never stop loving him.  He would always be in my thoughts.  But my life had
a focus now.  I could move on.

As soon as I got home I called the sailing school and booked an appointment
for the next day.

I phoned Jennifer and told her what I'd just done.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she said.

"No, I am not out of my fucking mind," I snapped.  "What am I supposed to
do?  Sit around here until hell freezes over hoping Rob will change his
mind.  That's not going to happen.  He said it was over and it's over!"

"Jerry, we need to talk."

"Okay," I agreed.  "In a few days.  There's some stuff I need to do first."

Next I phoned my parents and arranged to finalize the purchase of their new
recreational vehicle.  They had decided on a fifth wheel that could be
towed comfortably behind my father's Toyota Tacoma.  It was to be ordered
from a factory near Vancouver.  I promised to drive there in two days to
finalize the payment.  Again they told me how excited they were.  I was
pleased.

I told them about Colibri.  They didn't say much.

I had to drive to my sailing lesson the next day.  It was the first time I
had used my car after arriving home from Santa Barbara.  I had to pass
Rob's car to get to mine.  As I walked by it all the hurt and anger came
flooding back.  I felt compelled to touch it.  When I did the anger
evaporated and I was overcome by a longing so forceful my head spun.  Fuck!

The sailing lesson took my mind off my troubles.  The instructor, a guy in
his thirties named Seth, was an experienced ocean sailor.  He suggested
starting out in a small boat so I could get a feel for the wind.

He took me out into the bay, explaining what he was doing the whole time.
I learned more new nautical terms like mainsail, jib, boom, sheet, port and
starboard, and tack and come about.  Then after an hour of practice drills
he had me take over.  He sat back to watch.

"Aren't you worried?" I asked.

"You'll be fine, you're a natural," he said.  "Just don't hit any
freighters."

I began a navigation course.  I studied hard.

A few days passed and I met Jennifer after a sailing lesson.  She bought me
a coffee then looked at me expectantly.

"Start at the beginning," she said.

I told her that I had fucked up royally.  That I had missed the signs of
Rob's depression.  I told her about the stressful sale of the business.
About not telling Rob about the money until the sale was complete.  How
that had betrayed Rob's trust.  I told her about the fight we'd had.  How I
got hurt and mad.  That Rob told me it was over.

"Wait a minute," she said.  "Rewind the tape.  You did what?"

"I got a little mad," I said.

"Jerry," she said.  "You don't get a little mad.  You get a lot mad.
Remember that time you didn't talk to your father for six months?  What did
you say to Rob?"

"I think I told him to stop.  That he was hurting me.  That he was being
unfair.  Something like that."

"That fits," she said.  "You got mad at your dad because he grounded you
and you didn't think it was fair."

"It wasn't," I said.  "He made me miss your sixteenth birthday party."

"Are you still angry at Rob?" she asked.

"I'll be angry until the day I die.  But not with Rob.  With myself."

 "Do you still love him?"

"Yes," I said.  "I'll always love him.  Jennifer, I miss him so much...."

"Don't you think you should call him?  Maybe apologize for getting angry."

"It wouldn't be fair to him," I said.  "He made it very clear--it's over.
I need to respect his wishes."

"So you think running off to sea will solve the problem," she said.

"I have no other options," I said.

The sailing lessons went well.  After about a week Seth suggested using a
bigger boat.  Not quite the size of Colibri but near.  Seth would have me
sail the whole lesson single handed.  I was nervous and I made lots of
mistakes but I enjoyed it immensely.

For several days we worked on man overboard drills.  Seth would throw a
dummy head into the water and I would quickly turn the boat around and
"rescue" it.  My skills improved.  One day Seth put a life preserver on and
suddenly jumped overboard.  I nearly shit my pants.  I was shaking by the
time I got turned around and picked him up.

"You could have drowned!"  I yelled.

"Naw," he said.  "I knew you'd get me.  But now know what it feels like in
real life."

With the sale of Colibri complete Seth suggested we start using her for
lessons.  I suddenly realized what a huge responsibility owning a boat was.
Up until then I'd been using someone else's boat.  They were responsible.
Now it was my head on the block if I banged up another boat.  Leaving and
returning to the crowded marina was intimidating.  For several days I was
very anxious but then I began to relax and my confidence grew.

"Am I ready for Hawaii?" I asked.

"Not by a long shot," replied Seth.

Seth was terrific and very professional.  If he knew I was gay it didn't
bother him.  He suggested a cruise.  So we took Colibri up the British
Columbia coast for a few days.  I did most of the navigating and sailing.
We were never out of sheltered waters but it gave me a taste for ocean
cruising.

I was doing well mentally.  The only fly in the ointment was Rob's car.
Every time I saw it I was overcome with anguish.  At night I would think
about it and have an overwhelming urge to get up and touch it.  Sometimes
sleep was impossible.  The worst part was the knowledge that one day
someone would arrive to take it away.  Then the last connection to Rob
would be gone.  Absolutely, totally gone.  I didn't know when that would
happen, but dreaded the inevitable moment.  I kept praying, "Please, one
more day....one more day."

Seth suggested taking Colibri out to the west coast of Vancouver Island to
give me some experience on the open ocean.  He had commitments and couldn't
go but Dave volunteered to go with me.  I offered to pay him for his time
but he refused saying that it would be a pleasure for him to get away for a
few days.

While we were out on the open Pacific Ocean we were hit by a squall.  I was
concerned but Dave helped me trim the sails and assured me that Colibri was
more than up for it.  He said with her heavy keel it would take a lot more
than that to tip her over.  He explained that even if she lost her mast,
and the engine failed, she would be okay until help arrived.  The only
thing that would sink her was if she broke up.  He assured me that was
extremely unlikely to happen.  And Colibri was loaded with safety
equipment.

Thank God I'm not prone to sea sickness.

I spent a lot of time talking to Dave when I wasn't out sailing.  One day
we talked about solo sailing.

"Jerry, you're a natural sailor.  I think you can handle Colibri alone.
But don't you think it would be safer to have a first mate for the trip to
Hawaii?  It's a three week trip one way."

"I don't know anybody who would go," I said.  "How would I find someone?"

"You can put an ad in the local sailing magazine.  You'd get a lot of
replies."

"How would I know who to pick?"

"I've got a friend who's a retired naval captain," he said.  "He does
consulting work.  He could pre-screen any applicants and weed out the dope
smoking hippies."

I promised to think about it.

I started to take Colibri out into the bay solo.  It wasn't difficult now
that I'd learned to sail and had confidence in my navigation skills.

I invited Jennifer, Paul and Ryan over to the boat for dinner one night.
It was cold out so we ate in the cabin.  Ryan loved Colibri.  He saw it as
a big playhouse.  He looked in all the cupboards and lockers.  He jumped on
the beds.  He thought the heads were the coolest things he'd ever seen.  He
giggled when I started the engine for him.  He was more than happy to go to
sleep in Uncle Jerry's little bedroom.

We drank a lot of wine that night.  At one point Jennifer said she had
something to tell me.  Paul put his hand on her arm and warned her off.  I
wondered what the big secret was.  "Maybe she's pregnant," I thought.  But
then realized she wouldn't' be drinking wine if she was.  I soon forgot
about it.

I slept on Colibri most nights by then.  The rocking motion and marina
sounds lulled me to sleep.  I didn't think about Rob's car as much when I
slept there.

I continued my daily runs, mostly in the very early mornings, to
accommodate my sailing schedule.  One day after a shower I caught sight of
myself in the mirror.  I was almost a stranger to myself.  My six foot
frame had become hard and lean from running.  I'd lost at least ten pounds.
My hair, normally well kept, had grown shaggy.  My face had lost its
roundness.  My knife edge nose looked even more prominent.  My brown eyes
looked larger framed by dark circles.  My face, arms and neck were deeply
tanned.  I had a heavy five o'clock shadow from not shaving regularly.  I
was starting to look like a pirate.  I was morphing into a true sailor.

My parents came to town to see the boat.  Dad loved it.  Mom admired it but
wasn't quite so enthusiastic.  I offered to take them out for a sail.  Dad
accepted right away.  I could tell Mom didn't really want to go, so I let
her off the hook by suggesting she enjoy some shopping in the city.  I got
Dad to help with the sailing by pulling sheets and winding winches.  He
thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon.  I took them to dinner at the restaurant
by the marina.  When they were leaving Dad hugged me and told me how proud
he was of me.  Mom told me I was too thin and I needed to eat more.

I spent a day ashore (I was sounding more and more like a sailor) getting
my finances sorted out.  I needed to invest my money safely and ensure I
had access to it while I was traveling.  I felt oddly disconnected from my
money.  What good had it done me?  Except for Colibri I'd still be holed up
in my apartment eating tuna.

In between sailing and studying navigation I read every book, magazine and
blog I could on ocean sailing.  Specifically solo ocean sailing.  One hears
horror stories about things gone wrong, but the truth is that many, many
people--old, young, male, female--do it safely and successfully.  I was a
natural sailor, I was learning advanced navigation and I had a great boat.
The only thing I lacked was experience.

I agonized over the pros and cons of setting off alone.  The prospect of
solitude, being hundreds of miles from another human, looking out and
seeing nothing but endless ocean all around, was appealing.  On the other
hand, someone to help if something did go wrong--especially on my first
long voyage--seemed sensible.  In the end I decided to follow Dave's advice
and find a first mate.

But it had to be a female.  No testosterone.  No sexual tension.

I contacted Dave's consultant friend.  I advertised and had the
applications sent to him.  He found two suitable candidates, both of whom
were well experienced on the high seas.  I interviewed them.

Number one was not suitable.  She was experienced but had the sort of
personality that grated.

Number two, Katie, was a winner.  She was ex-navy, and tough as nails, but
she had a sunny disposition.  The type of person you could count on to
watch your back.  She suggested we go for a short cruise to get to know
each other, just to be sure, before we committed to the three week crossing
to Hawaii.  We took an overnight cruise and got along well.

Weather patterns over the Pacific indicated that the best time to set out
would be in about a month.  Katie and I made lists of supplies we needed.
I began to provision Colibri for the trip.  I had a marine surveyor inspect
the boat to ensure all the rigging and equipment was in good shape.

The marina where I had Colibri moored was private, but it was a busy little
community.  We seldom saw strangers, but neighbours came and went
regularly.  Sometimes people stopped to talk and offer advice.  But most
fellow sailors sensed my need for solitude and didn't bother me.  If I
wanted to be left alone I wouldn't look up from the task at hand and they
would walk on by.

On sunny days I enjoyed polishing the stainless steel deck fittings.  The
railings, the wheel, the winches.  It was a mindless sort of task and
invariably my thoughts turned to Rob.  Wistful thoughts of how it might
have been if only I hadn't fucked up so badly.

One morning I was really going at a particularly stubborn spot of corrosion
on the port railing.  I was facing away from the dock and I heard, rather
than saw, someone walking along the planks.  I was in a "do not disturb"
mood so didn't look up.  The footsteps stopped at Colibri.  I continued to
polish, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and move along.  The
person stood persistently.  An awkward silence ensued.  I was just about to
plaster a fake smile on my face and turn around when I heard, "Is this your
boat?"

For a microsecond I felt annoyance.  Then I recognized the voice....

I was hit with such a sudden wave of nausea that I doubled over and
clutched my stomach.  I took deep breaths to prevent myself from being
physically sick.

I couldn't turn around.  Couldn't face him.

I took a very deep breath.

 "Are you...."

Another breath.

"Here to get...."

One final breath.

"Your car?"

*************

To be continued....

*************

Thanks for the feedback!

Snowbird: A Canadian who travels south for the winter to escape the cold.

If you are interested in checking out a Beneteau 423 like Colibri here's a
link to a YouTube video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ijCaM_xkEc