Message In A Bottle

To anyone at all,

My name is Charles Davenbury and I am the captain of the ghost-yacht Mara-Nara, which went missing many decades ago while sailing the haunted canal that connects Lake Washington to Lake Union. Do not think that I am a ghost just because I captain a ghost-yacht. I am a living man (for now). 

My crew and I were sailing on the ghost-ferry, Kalakala (story for another time) when high winds and slicing rain began to fill the cabin and car deck. In mere moments our boat began to capsize. Panic prevailed but I was able to lead my crew to the hull which was littered with razor-sharp mussels. We clung to them to keep from sliding off into the moderately cold Puget Sound!

As the ferry neared disappearing under the whitecaps and all hope was lost, we clung to one another, crying and singing the famed shipwreck song "The wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald" as doomed sea-goers have done since the mid 70s. Our song must have called upon some maritime spirit, for in that brief moment between the blinding flash of lightening and the deafening roar of thunder there appeared a vessel just a few yards away. The apparitions that stared down upon us were ghostly blue and semi-transparent.They were adorned in fashions of long ago and we were given the impossible choice between drowning and accepting the aid of these ethereal spirits.

As the ferry sank further into the Sound, the choice became less impossible and we walked the narrow plank onto the ghost-yacht where we were immediately asked to place our keys into a large punch bowl, empty save the iridescent glow of several rings of ghost-keys. The spirits were no longer translucent and wore wide-legged corduroy pants and satin shirts with long collars. Many had gold chains and bracelets and an unusual number of men were dressed as captain.

Steely Dan music filled the air and beanbags littered the thick shag of the carpet. I remember the scent of fondue clearly and we were welcomed as their guests. Hair was feathered and mustaches rode solo above beardless chins. Chest hair stood proud from lowly buttoned shirts and side-b***s peeked provocatively from loosely hung dresses and leisure-suits.

The wet bar was fully stocked with spirits and the hi-fi stereo pumped out soft rock hits, one after the other. At first it was wonderful! Who doesn't love Yacht Rock, right? Who doesn't love 70s parties? I'll tell you who, anyone who can't escape it! 

Days went by and the party continued endlessly. Weed and coke, booze and Valium night after night began to wear thin. It was always Saturday night and the party was always midway through. I would wake up the lovely Maria taking away the dinner plates and delivering port wine and tiramisu. She would wink at my with the eyes of a cat. Then the real festivities would begin and there would be pinatas, limbo-lines, Truth Or Dare, liquor and drugs until the moment of dawn's first blush, and then all would go black and Maria was delivering dessert again. The process repeated itself over and over. Somewhere in the hazy evening people would pair off and disappear below decks only to return twenty minutes later with messed hair and knowing glances.

I know it may seem trite to complain about the smorgasbord of sexual variations but, to be truthful, I began to miss Mondays, or Wednesdays. Anything but Saturday! Anything but the Doobie Brothers!

One night, between dessert and dawn, Maria approached me with those  bedroom eyes. Hers was the only skin I had not tasted and I was eager to remedy that particular oversight. She slipped her small, soft hand into mine and urged me gently toward the stairs that led below. In the narrow hall with its many doors, Maria pressed her fit body against me and raised to her tip-toes to kiss me. It was wonderful! Her mouth tasted of cherry lip balm. She playfully bit my lip and reached her mouth to my ear.

"I've got a special surprise for you, Charlie." she teased and I felt my knees go weak. She giggled and led me to the last door in the very back of the hallway. One last time she turned, raised her finger to her lips and blew a sweet "Shush" to me. At the time I didn't know why. The sounds of lovemaking were common here below. Maria pulled open the cabin door and led me inside a very dimly lit room. We sat at the foot of the bed and I placed my hands around her slim waist. We began to kiss again. She placed one hand around the back of my neck, another on my beating chest, and a third on my upper thigh!

Now I'm no math major, but I can count to three without having to think about it. I shot out of bed so fast that I hit my head on the low cabin ceiling! I swore at the pain and groped for the door. Finding it, I pulled it open and was about to run when I heard Maria's voice calling my name. Powerless, I stopped.

"Please don't go, Charlie," she purred. I reached slowly into the dark, feeling for the light switch and finally found it. I clenched my teeth as I flicked the lights on. Maria sat, one sleeve of her blouse fallen to her waist. One perfect breast displayed like a rare work of art. And behind her, upon the velour blanket, practically spread-eagle,was her husband Bobby wearing nothing but a skin-tight leopard print banana-hammock! 

I opened my mouth but I don't think anything resembling words came out. Maria smiled and reached the cramped distance to touch my hand. It took all of my will to pull it away and finally real words escaped my lips.

"I don't.... I don't do that...." and that was all I had. I could't even finish the sentence."

Bobby smiled and sat up, mercifully closing his hairy legs. He spoke as if everything was hunky-dory, which it was NOT! "Hey, Amigo. I getcha. Menage a trois' not for everyone. Readin' that loud and clear. But you don't have to ruin a good thing here, Charlie. I don't have to be involved. Maria really likes you and I'm not a jealous man. She's all yours, partner." and he got up from the bed.

I breathed out a tense sigh and could only emit an awkward giggle. "Jeeze, thanks Bobby. This is so strange. I didn't mean any offense."

"None taken, Kimosabe," and he plopped down on the small chair next to the bed. "I'll just sit here and watch. Shoulda brought some popcorn." he chuckled unnervingly. The tiny radio on the bedside table hummed out 'I'm a fool to do your dirty work'.

From the bow I watched the first light tint the eastern sky. But this time the sun kept rising until morning proper dawned for the first time in however long. It was a welcome relief. How long had I lived only the hours between dessert and dawn? I ached for a job, chores, a nosey neighbor. I longed for un-smooth music.

The morning was warm and fresh. Maria and Bobby emerged from below decks and squinted in the pale bright day. Maria giggled girlishly and smiled at the novelty. "Oh, Bobby, I haven't seen the sun since 1979. Isn't it wonderful?"

Bobby sat next to me on a multicolored deck chair. "We need to talk to the captain, Charlie. I think it's time to go."

"Beats me. You and I are the only two men NOT dressed like a captain. I don't know which one to talk to. But I agree, it's time for me and my crew to go."

He smiled sincerely. "Not you, Charlie. Us. We've been here a long time and now the yacht has a crew. We are finally free. We're here to talk to the captain. That's you." And he placed a large hand on my shoulder.

"I'd much rather I left." I argued.

"It doesn't work that way, Chuck. Ships yours. You'll have to find a fresh crew to relieve you if that's what you want. I'm sick of smooth rock. How's the music these days? Is it better than Ambrosia?"

I closed my eyes for a moment and said, "Yeah, Bobby, it's pretty good these days." and when I opened them again they were gone. Not completely gone. The former crew of the Mara-Nara was paddling steadily away in ghost-kayaks.

I reached over to the stereo and turned the volume knob. Spandau Ballet crooned, 'I know this much is true'. It was smooth rock, but it was 80s smooth rock. An improvement, I thought. I noticed my reflection in the slick, mist covered deck, faded iridescent blue.

There aren't any 80s shipwreck songs that I can think of, so if you find yourself on a sinking ship with no hope of survival, just huddle together and sing Duran Duran's 'Rio'. I think it has a yacht in the video. Anyway, do that and in the brief moment between the blinding flash of lightening and the deafening roar of thunder you'll see the Mara-Nara and its ghostly crew welcoming you to the party. You can keep your keys, we don't swing.

Sooth Sailing,

Captain Charles Davenbury

P.S. Regarding that night with Maria and Bobby. I did what I did and Bobby did what he did. And Maria did what she did...twice. That's all there is to know.