My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

5

“Harry, Harry, wake up,” my already clothed Emmie urged as she nudged me, none too gently, as I was still under the rumbled sheets. It was just too damn difficult to wake up completely. Until she whacked me with a pillow.

“Wha…morning beautiful,” I think I slurred.

“The morning show said there’d be some news about Lee after the commercial. Now, hurry up and get out of bed! And one of the first things we’re going to do after breakfast is to go buy a TV for the bedroom!”

“Yes, dear,” I said, quickly pulling on a robe over my bare skin and grabbing the edges of the furniture instead of bothering with my crutch or cane, as I followed her into the living room. Though, when I thought about it, I didn’t really need a robe. The windows were treated to prevent anyone from looking in. We, of course, could look out at anyone without them seeing us. Besides, I had every intention of dragging her back to bed with me asap.

“We’re here,” the reporter was saying, “at the Division of Motor Vehicles in Santa Barbara, where we’ve discovered that Captain Nelson-Crane is taking the vision test in order to renew his suspended driver’s license. Staff refused to let any of his fellow applicants take pictures of him in order to adhere to the DMV’s privacy laws.

“We’ve spoken to a few people who had just received their licenses when the captain’s number was called,” the reporter continued, nodding to a man from of a group of excited people over to stand beside him. “Did the captain seem nervous?”

“If he was, he didn’t show it. But the guy who drove him here sure was. But, I gotta’ tell you, that artificial eyeball looks a hell of lot worse in person than it does in the drawings.”

“Oh, yes,” an older woman butted in. “Poor boy. He used to be so handsome.”

“When my wife,” the man interrupted, “came in the building with me, she’s in the car now, well, she nearly fainted when she saw that thing. If you ask me, when he doesn’t need the eyeball, for when he’s not driving, he should use an eyepatch.”

Just then Lee emerged from the building and gave the crowd a thumbs up, then, followed by Ski, headed to the parking lot. Or at least tried to.

“Captain, captain,” the reporter called out running after him, as well as the crowd. “What are your plans now? Will you still be commanding Seaview or just work as co-CEO of the institute?”

“Both,” Lee said as Ski handed him the Cobra’s keys, “though my chief medical officer insists that I take a little shore leave first. So, I guess I’m just going to have to go to Disneyland, and spend a little quality time with my friends, and also with my mother, who’s visiting from back east.”

“Then the rumors are true bout you using the flying sub to bring her out here?”

“Actually, yes. I kind of borrowed the keys, so to speak. But don’t worry, my piloting was approved by the FAA after passing a test flight with their liaison.”

“How did your mother handle it? I mean, with her claustrophobia?”

“She did just great. A little hyperventilation at times, but she kept it under control, and after all, the view ports are pretty large. Not too much of that closed in feeling that you get on a commercial aircraft.”

“Do you think taking Mrs. Nelson up might help her to overcome her flight anxiety?”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks. But it will have to be her decision, and it might be better if Harry takes her up, instead of me.”

“Will you be getting a new sailboat? If so, will your mother help you decide on one? Rumor is she has some ideas.”

“I’ll definitely get a new boat, but it’s something I’d rather do alone, like when I bought the Cobra. I may have been given a Lamborghini, but ‘Red’ is still my best girl, after Seaview.”

He slid into the driver’s seat, Ski already having taken the passenger side.

“Oh,” he added toward the man who had been interviewed, “tell your wife that we hope to modify Igor here,” he pointed to the monstrosity. “Scientists are already trying to make them look more like real eyes.”

With that he waved and drove off. 

 “Well,” one of the crowd said, “I hope he doesn’t scare the kiddies at Disneyland. Of course, he could wear an eyepatch and appear in the pirate show.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” one of the ladies in the crowd said.

“Yeah,” an elderly gentleman piped up. “That’s no way to talk about a hero.”

“Look, I only said…”

“Well, you’ve said enough, bud,” one of the DMV officers said. “The party’s over folks….”

“We return you now to the studio,” the reporter said ending her part of the broadcast.

The station went to commercial and I was serenaded by happy little elves in a hollow tree before I turned off the TV.

“Disneyland?” Emmie asked as her good arm took mine and walked me back to the bedroom. “Does he really want to go there, or was he joking?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered, “maybe he’s just in the mood for fireworks. By the way, I have a sudden craving for cookies.”

“Well, none that were ‘baked by those elves in a hollow tree’, I hope, I’d prefer to bake you some myself,” she laughed as she helped me sit down on the bed.  “How about coffee and the ‘breakfast of champions’? You sure were one last night.”

“Care for me to win another gold medal?”

“Later. Get dressed. Remember we’re going shopping after breakfast for that TV.”

 “Yes, dear.”

I had to laugh to myself that I was becoming the proverbial ‘yes, dear’ husband.

And so shortly after we’d gone to Sears, we returned with the latest in televisions.

This one, I’d been told could even take the place of a computer for those subscription movie places on the internet.

But that wasn’t on my mind right now. I was  trying to figure out how to attach the damn ‘accessories’ so we could link up to some of the internet movie sites. (Emmie had a subscription to a few.) 

I gave up and did what I should have done in the first place. I called the institute IT dept. Technically this was not institute business. But then, the institute is not a public company. I own it. I’m the boss aside from Lee. I can do what I damn well please if we’re not an assignment with the Navy. And it’s just a television, for Pete’s sake. But Emmie made me earmark an estimated expense from our personal checking account. Just in case the IRS complained about mixing business with personal expenses.

Emmie also invited Lee and Mrs. C to come over later today for lunch. We decided on BBQ Ribs from a nearby steakhouse that had take-out and delivery.  But this this was also going to be a celebration, and so I quickly dashed off to my favorite package store and returned with some ‘gentlemen’ by the name of Smirnoff, Johnny Walker, and Glen Livet. 

The restaurant had just delivered our meals when Lee and his mother arrived. The women chattered gleefully as Lee noticed the other kitchen ‘guests’.

“Smirnoff’s?” he muttered happily.

“Yes,” I replied with a nod toward Emmie, “I thought it might be nice to restock the Observation Nose with a few new spirits.”

“I’ll help you take them over after lunch.”

The ribs were outstanding as were the Scalloped Corn and Boston Baked Beans. Not exactly the kind of fare that really went well with the Martini’s Lee had made for himself and for me, but he likes vodka so it was okay with me to nurse the meal along with it instead of the whiskey I’d have preferred. 

The women had the ‘from scratch’ lemonade that Emmie had made. Who can figure. 

“Why don’t we go stock the Observation Nose now,” Lee said, leaning back in his chair, sated.

“Only if you don’t have any more of it,” Mrs. Crane said. Besides, you’re the designated driver for when we go to the condo remember?”

“But you didn’t have anything,” Emmie said, confused.

“I don’t drive much anymore. Foot sensitivity problems. Can’t feel the pedals very well.”

“I’ll keep him in line, Mrs. C.” I said, grabbed my cane, and waited for Lee to pick up the crate of bottles before the golf cart we’d called arrived.

It was a short drive to the dry dock through the underground tunnel. Then I heard something being sprayed as Lee and I hopped off the cart. Oh gawd, they weren’t supposed to have painted the sub yet, were they?

“Ohmygod,” Lee said, almost dropping the crate  as  he saw the men spraying Seaview with paint. Red paint. Lee furrowed his brows, closed his ‘eye’ then made an adjustment on one of its mini knobs. Yes, he thought there was a malfunction.

“Hiya, Captain!” the foreman shouted from his scaffold near the aft hatch, while the men stopped their industrial sprayers so they could listen in.  “We got the rest of the repairs done quicker than the estimate so all that’s left is her paint job. And it ain’t any ordinary red. It’s Corvette Red. The Admiral insisted. Said there was a difference.”

Lee looked at me in total shock, then, “She…she’s beautiful....” That was a misnomer if ever there was on. The paint was being sprayed in sections and she looked like a patchwork quilt.

“You…did this for me, Harry?” he barely managed.

“You like red.”

“I know but…I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you can think of something while we celebrate your recovery in the Nose. Though now that I think about it, I might have a problem climbing the scaffolding or gangplanks, not to mention getting down into the Control Room….”

“You’re right,” Lee said and opened one of the Livets, taking a squig, then offering the bottle to me.

 “Higgins?” he called out to the foreman, “I don’t suppose you can take this crate to the Nose? We’ll stow the bottles properly when we take Seaview out on her shakedown…c’mon down, everyone and have a drink. And don’t worry. The alcohol’s neutralized our cooties.”

And so, after everyone had a slug and there was only about one shot from the open bottle left, Lee used the scaffolding and poured out the rest on the boat’s unpainted nose, and patted his best girl lovingly.

“She didn’t need to be christened again, Lee,” I said.

“I know. Was just a little libation to go with the love pat.”

“I think we should probably get back to the ladies before they call security.”

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Lee said, confused.

“You don’t have a wife.”

We were still laughing when the golf cart dropped us off back at my bungalow.

“By the way, son, do you really want to go to Disneyland? Or was that just for the press?”

“It was meant as a joke, but…now that you mention it…. Care to come along? Both you and Emily?  They have wheelchairs, even motorized ones.”

“We’ll think about it.”

And so we enjoyed the afternoon, and went over the theme park’s official website. On the TV.

“There’s way too much to see and do!” Emmie complained.

“A lot of nice places to eat,” Mrs. Crane said. “Lee could use some fattening up.”

“Nice rides,” Lee said, “some don’t look like kid’s stuff, either. So, how about it? We can get a suite in one of the resort’s hotels. I think we should spend a couple of days to enjoy the whole thing. My treat.”

“Lee, that’s not necessary,” I said.

“Please, let me. I…can’t repay you enough for Seaview’s paint job.”

“You don’t have to pay me at all! She needs a paint job. And you’ve always wanted her to be red. It’s the least I can do.”

“The Navy’s going to complain.”

“Let them. My…our boat, our decision.”

And so, here I am, past midnight, writing up the latest, but I have to stop because Emmie is giving me her little ‘come hither’ looks.

Yes, I feel like attempting another gold medal.