![\"#shortstories](\"https:\/\/roguephoenixpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Girlfriending-200x300.jpg\")
<\/p>\nEnjoy a collection of short stories; Girlfriending by Christopher T. Werkmen<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The bottle danced an erratic jig. Otis saw it floating near the stern of Bubble Watcher as Andre backed the fifty-five footer into its mooring slip. Otis decided prop wash caused the motion, but even after Andre shut down the grumbling diesels, the clear-glass beer bottle continued to jiggle, bottom-end-up. While other divers off-loaded their gear, Otis watched the bottle continue to wiggle and bob amongst the Styrofoam cups, plastic bags and other harbor flotsam. He realized there had to be a creature hooked on a line tied to the bottle\u2019s neck, engaged in an unending struggle for freedom. The work of bored teens, he figured. Bait the hook and toss it in the ocean\u2014a floating gallows. Otis grabbed the gaff, climbed out of the cockpit and shuffled along the narrow deck-space between the cabin and the gunwale, hoping the bottle would come within reach.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d Andre called down from the flying bridge.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot sure,\u201d Otis shouted back. He could snag anything inside ten or twelve feet, but the bottle was out of range. It submerged, then popped to the surface again. Whatever the line held was too small, or weakened, to take it under for long. \u201cC\u2019mere,\u201d Otis hissed, in his raspy whisper. Instead, the bottle moved closer to the algae-coated jetty, green as ripe spinach. Just as Otis decided to get off the boat and try to recover the bottle from the pier\u2019s walkway, it made a break for open water, giving Bubble Watcher wide berth.<\/p>\n
Diving in to swim after it was Otis\u2019 only option. He noticed a tampon applicator floating in the coffee-with-cream colored shore-water. A mile or so out to sea, he could count the planks in Bubble Watcher\u2019s hull from a depth of a hundred feet, but in the marina, all manner of waste found its way into the water. Not only that, he had no idea what was hooked on the line. Getting bitten or being speared on the dorsal of a panicky fish was even less appetizing than a leap into the murky water. So, the bottle skittered away, leaving Otis as angry at his own inaction as he was with whoever set the trap.<\/p>\n
He jumped down onto the main deck, stowed the gaff and picked up his gear. He dove the summer-warmed ocean in his swim trunks and a tee-shirt. Since Andre, the owner, supplied him with a tank and regulator, he had only to off-load his buoyancy vest, weight belt, mask, fins and snorkel.<\/p>\n
Andre climbed down from the bridge and tilted his head toward the jetty. \u201cNo treasure?\u201d<\/p>\n
Otis hoisted his equipment onto the pier, then glanced in the direction the bottle took. He wanted to tell Andre about the bottle, but the words hung in his throat. \u201cNah, turned out to be nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow was the dive?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSpec-tacular. One of those little gals and I found a sea turtle with a wad of fishing line tangled around her flippers. We cut it loose, and she followed us around for most of our dive.\u201d His smiled. \u201cNeat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat \u2018little gal,\u2019 the tall drink of water you surfaced with?\u201d When Otis nodded, Andre did a once-around to make sure she wasn\u2019t nearby. \u201cMan, Otie. I was you, I\u2019d be on her like spar varnish.\u201d<\/p>\n
Otis winked. \u201cShe probably already has a grandpa.\u201d He stepped up onto the stern, then to the pier. \u201cSame time tomorrow morning?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure. Eleven spots reserved. Probably some walk-ins. Castin\u2019 off at ten sharp.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll fill the tanks and have everything good to go.\u201d Otis picked up his gear, walked into the dusty gravel parking lot and discovered the girl they were talking about was parked next to his car. Her shiny red SUV wore New York plates. She was toweling off her robin\u2019s-egg blue aluminum tank. A large woman with olive skin and long raven hair, she was fleshy, but athletic. He judged her to be in her thirties, and imagined she might look at home on a soccer field or a basketball court.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Otis.\u201d Her smile came on like high beams. \u201cI really enjoyed the dive. That poor turtle seemed so happy when we cut off the fish line.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, glad we ran across her. Damned monofilament line is ruining the ocean.\u201d The jittering bottle did an encore in his memory as he opened his car\u2019s trunk and laid his gear inside. He almost mentioned it, but as he turned to face her, she stooped to remove the regulator from her tank. Instead, Otis watched the top of her Day-Glo pink swimsuit strain to contain her breasts.<\/p>\n
She stood and gave him a knowing look. \u201cI bet you\u2019d like one of these.\u201d She stowed the regulator in the back of her car, and pulled two cans of beer from a cooler.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s the way to my heart, girl. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat makes you think I\u2019d want your heart?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t.\u201d He opened the can and took a sip. \u201cIt\u2019s old and worn out, just like the rest of me.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed hard. \u201cI work with guys half your age who will never be in the shape you\u2019re in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen they have my sympathy. And what is it you do up there in\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSchenectady. Marketing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Otis grinned. \u201cConvincing people to buy what they don\u2019t know they need?\u201d<\/p>\n
She wrinkled her nose. \u201cSometimes. Or what they bought from me a year ago isn\u2019t as good as what I have to sell them today. Companies though, not people.\u201d She closed the SUV\u2019s back hatch and leaned against it, her reflection on the window doubling her beauty. She explained she was a refugee from the dot com collapse of the late nineties and she\u2019d sold software for six years. \u201cThe company is moving into a new building in late August, so I bumped my vacation up a few weeks. I get a corner office with a great view of a park, and I need to be there to make sure it\u2019s arranged the way I want.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, if you have to work, it sounds like you\u2019ve got a great situation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave to work.\u201d Her laugh rolled. \u201cThat\u2019s right, you said you retired. What did you do before you became a dive bum?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMichigan State Patrol. Was a trooper for thirty-two years. My wife, Jayne, died a few years back after ten rounds with breast cancer. Right after that, I had a bout with the big C myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the first time, a serious expression cleared away the woman\u2019s smile. Her dark eyes brimmed with concern, making her even lovelier. \u201cOh, Otis.\u201d She touched his arm lightly. \u201cYou\u2019re okay now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeem to be. Had surgery and some radiation.\u201d Radiation scared him, especially because he believed radiation exposure from traffic radar caused the cancer in the first place. When the course of treatment ended, he was declared clear of disease, but lacked confidence in his body. To his way of thinking, nurturing cells bent on his destruction amounted to treason. As a trooper, he relied on his body to safeguard his life. Its dalliance with cancer shook him to his core. On the way home from his final radiation treatment, he saw a mid-sixties Pontiac GTO gleaming beneath the wind-tickled plastic flags on a used car lot. Half an hour later, he was writing the chain-smoking salesman a check. The car took Otis back to the time when he was young, strong and healthy. At another level, the control he exerted over such a powerful machine transposed into a feeling of mastery over his body. Otis liked to think of the GTO as an outgrowth of his psyche, although the reverse was probably closer to the truth. \u201cBut, yeah,\u201d he told her. \u201cI\u2019ve been clear since.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you had it\u2026where? Do you mind my asking?\u201d<\/p>\n
Otis shrugged. \u201cNot if you don\u2019t mind me telling you. My testicles. They took the right one. Managed to save the left.\u201d He raised his eyebrows, amplifying his grin. \u201cEasier to cross my legs, now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dark as she was with a tan compounding her complexion, her blush ripened. \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u201d She laughed. \u201cI deserved that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Otis shook his head. \u201cNo. You really didn\u2019t. I should watch my manners. I\u2019m the one who\u2019s sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n