Chapter nine

“I still don’t know your name man.”

Dex is a fucking asshole. He must call me “Rat” even when I’m not around.

“My name is Lester,” I said.

“Lester,” he replied. He appeared to believe me, unlike Dex.

“I know, it sounds like a black guy’s name, doesn’t it?” I said. His brow furrowed a bit.

“I know a guy named Lester who isn’t black,” Dion said. And now I sounded racist again. He didn’t seem that offended, though. “But he goes by Les.”

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Dion.”

“So, Lester...what in Hades are we doing here?” Dion said. He was smiling a big grin, disarming me all over again. I burst out laughing. I had to, because I could have cried too. Still couldn’t figure out I was dreaming.

“Dex explained it, but I sure don’t get it,” I said.

“Someone has to want us on the other side.” Dion had the right idea: think positive. I wish I could have done that. I didn’t know what else to say, because thoughts of home were creeping in, trying to depress me. So I changed the subject.

“You surf?”

“Heck yeah. You?”

“I went out with some guys one or two times. I couldn’t even figure out how to stand up on a short board. But when I took a board out just like that one, I got up only once, and then a second later, I bailed. So no, I can’t really surf at all.”

“Really? I would’ve pegged you for a lifer. You look like you coulda been surfing since you were a little grommet. When we get back home–” Dion paused. He was probably going to say he’d help me out, give me some pointers, show me how to surf. Then he said: “If.”

“Don’t think like that,” I said, in spite of myself. I mocked Dex with my perfect impression of the cheeky bastard: “‘Be careful what you wish for.’” Dion was now laughing his ass off, which made me laugh some more. We were becoming fast friends.

“You’re right.” Dion said. I was still looking at the surfboard, and of course he noticed. “Pretty sweet plank, eh?” I could only admire it as a layperson; I think he noticed that too. Nevertheless, I filled up the awkward pause.

“Yeah, man.”

“Not like I can use it out here.” He looked forlorn, like surfing was his power generator, his outlet: Here he was, on the roughest ride a surfer could imagine, and he couldn’t even paddle out. “It’s just too dangerous. I mean, what if I bail?”

“You wouldn’t want to bash your head in on a stacked washer-dryer unit, or something.”

Dion laughed once again. “I just need some sort of net-and-pulley-system to save me if I bail...” Damn! Not only was black dude smart, he’s got fuckin’ balls. He actually wanted to surf out in all that shit! I couldn’t help but shake my head, still smiling, now nervously. I had to change the subject again.

“You know, we’re not alone on the ship.”

“No?”

“No, bro. I’ve got a spider that’s been following me around.”

“No way!”

“Yeah, a cute little Tarantula. Named her Queenie. So if you see her, be sure and say, ‘What’s up.’” He looked a little squeamish. “Don’t worry dude. She’s really friendly. I took a nap with her earlier and she just hung out. Pardon the pun.”

“I gotta be honest. I don’t like spiders.”

“That’s cool, man. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t that scared. I forget sometimes that people don’t really like arachnids very much. Maybe one more change of subject couldn’t hurt, for Dion’s sake anyway.

“So how about that big bathtub that washed up on the deck?” I asked. He looked a little lost. Not my finest segue, I’ll admit. “You didn’t see it? It was in one of the loads that the elevator added to my trash pile below the deck.”

“I guess I stopped paying attention to every little thing that came over the railing.”

“Oh, this thing wasn’t little. It was, like, the size of a small room! I think it might not have even been a bathtub; it looked like some kinda work of art, really. Like a coat of arms.”

“Whoa,” Dion said. He couldn’t say anything for a moment. “Makes you think about what Dex said. Someone either forgot all about it–”

“Or else someone wants it on the other side of this Pipeline,” I finished his sentence. Of course we shared another ominous pause, though it wasn’t as awkward as before. I realized we were thinking the same thing: This place is weird.

“Now that seems okay to think about. I mean, how could this place get any fuckin’ weirder?” I asked, laughing now all over again; we were getting along famously. Nice to have someone around with a good sense of humor.

I truly could’ve been sad at that point, thinking of the abandonment, and all I had left behind. I had to keep my spirits up, however. I could tell that Dion didn’t want to think about it either. Maybe I could have woke up then, but there was no stimulus readily available to pull me out of the dream. So I just smiled at black dude, and he smiled right back. Everything was more than alright, but at this point there was nothing more to say.

From then on, we sat grinning in silence looking out over the dirty waves of the Pipeline, just enjoying some company that came from Southern California in the Twenty-First Century. Much better even than playing Little Miss Muffet. Anything was better than getting flogged by Dex. It was pretty cool hanging with Dion. If I was afraid of being alone before, now I felt like I had a brother onboard.

No, I don’t mean a “brotha.” More like a blood brother.

Shit, now I sound racist again.