Clueless

Note: I am not, nor have I ever been a sailor, whether Navy or Merchant Marine. If I have made any technical errors regarding these ships, it is a result of my imagination, and everything here is a work of fiction. In some cases, names have been changed to protect the guilty. Chas

*

It was after midnight when I pulled up slowly at the end of my driveway. We lived at the end of a cul-de-sac, so there is only one way in or out. I noticed right off the city police car parked in my driveway. It had not been there three hours ago when I had left.

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I'm Michael Johansen, but call me Mike. I married Linda Thompson six months after I was discharged from the Navy. Using my Navy experience working in engine rooms, I got a job servicing tug boats on the Mississippi River. After ten years, we have two sons, and we're still renting a small house. Linda teaches 8^th grade, a job I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. But Linda loves it.

In the summer she was taking a class in Public School Art at the university to keep her teaching certificate current. The university is in Jackson, 40 miles away. So, Linda had a fifty minute commute each way, but she said she didn't mind, and it was only for six weeks. Her class met on Tuesday and Thursday before lunch, and then she had a two hour lab period at two o'clock.

Linda was sitting in the Student Union eating her sandwich she had brought for her lunch, and sipping a diet soda. She heard her name, and looked up at a policeman standing before her.

"Linda Thompson, right?"

"Yes, but its Johansen now."

"Oh, okay. I remembered you from high school. That's been what, about fifteen years ago? You were quite a looker then, and I must say you haven't changed a bit."

"Well, thank you, even though I would have to question your eyesight. Sure, I remember you. Frank Bowman, right? You used to play football and hang out with Roger Millsap."

"Can I sit here with you while we have lunch? Are you a student here too?"

"Yes, I am. I'm taking a class during the summer session. I see you are a policeman in Vicksburg. That's where we live as well."

And so the snake entered my garden.

-----

It was Christmas and we had spent a week with Linda's family in Woodville, Louisiana, as we had every Christmas for the ten years we were married. Santa Claus always comes to Grandma's house for our two sons, ages seven and two. But he also comes to our house, so our sons are anxious to get home again after Christmas. All the big toys, like bicycles, will be at our house.

On this Christmas day, Linda seemed to spend a lot more time in whispered conversations with her sisters, Brenda and Shirley. I didn't know why I kept getting strange looks, and they would look away when they saw me notice. I was getting the evil eye from my mother-in-law, but that was nothing new. She had made it plain that she didn't care for me since the day I proposed to her daughter.

After dinner, my wife's older brother, Lenny, suggested we sit a spell out on the back porch. He handed me a beer, and said "We need to talk."

"Mike, Linda has been telling her sisters that you've been getting drunk and beating her up. Is that true?"

"Lenny, I haven't been drunk since I was in the Navy, and I've never laid a hand on Linda." And I hadn't, nor would I ever. "Where is she coming up with this nonsense?"

"I don't know. I didn't think you were the kind of man that would do something like that. But keep your eyes open. Something is going on, and I don't know why she is acting like this."

"I can remember a time when she was in high school, she wanted to break up with Roger Millsap so she could go to the prom with Pat Franklin, the football team quarterback. She didn't want everybody to see what a sleaze she was, so she started making up stories about Roger, saying he was cheating on her. Before she was through, there wasn't a girl in school that would date Roger."

"Lenny, I may be clueless, but I don't know where this is coming from, or where it's going."

Then we talked about football, and who we favored in the Superbowl, and finished our beer.

The day after Christmas is called Boxing Day for some reason, and by noon we had said our goodbyes, taken pictures of everybody, and everybody had taken pictures of us, so we started our two hour drive home. There was not much said between us as the boys were happily playing with their new toys in the back seat. I didn't mention what her brother had said, and she never mentioned what she told her sisters.

It was getting late in the afternoon when we got home. I unloaded the car, and of course the boys had to run into the house to see what Santa Claus had left them. Our dinner was turkey sandwiches and other leftovers brought back from Christmas dinner at her mother's house. After a few more hours of play time, the boys reluctantly gave up and went to bed.

It was after the kids were asleep that she hit me with the line "Mike, we need to talk."

I was sitting at the kitchen table, but I expected there wasn't going to be much talking.

"I want you to leave. You need to just move out tonight."

I said "OK," and got up to pack a bag. Maybe I should have put up more of an argument, demanded an explanation from her, but I said I was clueless.

By nine o'clock, I was on my way out the door. I had packed what I could in a couple of duffle bags, taking what I thought I needed, and leaving what I could do without. I was out the door without saying "goodbye", "I'll miss you", "call me", "kiss my foot", or nothing.

I can't say I was upset, or surprised. I didn't feel like I had a hole in my heart, or that my life had ended as I knew it. All of that might come later, but I was still clueless about what the hell was going on. I thought that if I just gave her some time, in a day or two she would want me back.

I drove to the Royal Arms Motel, out on the highway, and got a room for the night. It didn't mean anything to me at the time, but I saw a city police car drive slowly through the parking lot behind my truck. I carried my bags into the room, and looked around at what my life had just become. Four walls, a bathroom, a bed and a cheap TV. I needed to drive down to the convenience store to get some beer and snacks.

It was just a whim really, an afterthought. I hadn't planned to drive by the house. In my mind, I had left and I wasn't going back. But I was in my truck, driving around looking at Christmas lights, and somehow I ended up in front of my house, her house now.

That is when I saw the police car parked in my driveway. My first thought was whether there was something wrong, and whether Linda and the kids were okay.

I was out of my truck, and already to the carport door when it struck me that there were no lights on in the house. If the police were there on an official call, wouldn't the lights be on in the kitchen and living room?

I carefully unlocked and opened the door, and stepped into the kitchen. Moving toward the living room, I could see the only light in the house was a soft glow from the bedroom, probably from a bedside lamp.

I was holding my breath, trying to be as quiet as I could. I could hear my heart thumping. I moved slowly up the hall until I heard my wife.

"Fuck me Frank, fuck me harder."

"Yes, yes, harder. Don't stop. I'm cumming. Yes, yes."

I thought it was interesting that in the ten years we had been married, she had never talked to me that way when making love. She was more of the lay there and take it type.

As I looked around the corner of the open door into the bedroom, I could see the white ass of the large cop that was plowing my wife's pussy. The scales fell from my eyes and everything became clear. Well, not everything, but now I saw why she wanted me out of the house.

I was her latest Roger Millsap. She made up a load of shit about me, and then dumped me for her new lover. I wasn't clueless anymore. I slowly backed away from the door, and went back into the kitchen. Now I had the emotions that I hadn't had before, mostly rage.

The yard light was shining through the kitchen windows, lighting up the kitchen almost as if I had turned on the overhead lights. I could see a police uniform shirt draped over the back of a kitchen chair, and a gunbelt hanging there as well. The nametag on the shirt said Frank Bowman. Looking into the living room, there were a pair of boots and his pants by the couch. On the coffee table, there were two Budweiser long necks. The son of a bitch was not only fucking my wife, he was drinking my beer too. I guess they started out having a little party. In my imagination I could see her there in front of the couch, squatting between his legs and sucking his big cock down her throat while he drank my beer.

I pulled the pistol from his holster, a Colt .38 Police Special revolver. My first thought was to shoot the wife stealing bastard, maybe both of them, right there in my bed. Then I thought, maybe I'd just shoot him in the balls, or in both knees crippling him for life. The thought of spending the rest of my life, however short it would turn out to be, in prison quickly put those thoughts out of my mind. Hell, the cheating slut is not worth it.

A plan, of sorts, came to me. If she was through with me, then I was certainly through with her as well. I unloaded the six bullets from the revolver, and lined them up on the table. I stuck the pistol in my belt. I took his badge and nametag off his shirt, and I left as quietly as I had come in. I wasn't going to disturb their post-coital slumber, in my bed, in my bedroom, in my house.

Once I was outside the house, I used the blade of my pocket knife to unscrew the valve stem core from all four tires on the police cruiser sitting in my driveway. As an afterthought, I did the same to my wife's car. I threw the valve stem cores out onto the lawn. Try finding them in the grass, in the dark, dickwad.

I'd like to hear him explain this to his sergeant.

I drove straight over to Jimmy's house in Columbia Hills. I've known Jimmy Hankins since we were kids, playing on the same Little League team. Jimmy grew up to be a lawyer, and I'm a diesel mechanic. Even though it was after midnight, nearly two o'clock actually, Jimmy brought me into his kitchen, made some coffee, and had me tell him the whole story.

"Jimmy, I'm leaving town and I'm divorcing Linda. She can have whatever assets there are, which isn't much. The house is a rental, and the car is over 10 years old. Actually, my pickup is closer to 20. We live paycheck to paycheck; there are no savings, no 401K, no investments, no property, and no inheritance. As soon as I get a new job, I will send Linda $1000 a month for child support, but no alimony. Linda is a teacher, and she can support herself. Hell, she makes more money than I do."

Jimmy went into his home office and brought out some papers for me to sign, including a power of attorney.

As I was about to leave, I handed Jimmy a package. "You might want to return this to the police department, or maybe give it to the police chief or to a judge." The package was dickwad's gun and badge.

-----

Before I married Linda, I spent four years in the Navy. I thought I would see the world, but mostly I saw the engine room in a fleet replenishment ship. That is basically a cargo ship that resupplies ships at sea. That is where I learned about marine diesel engines. Most of the crew was Merchant Marine, so I learned my job from the best. For the past ten years, I've worked for a company that services towboats on the Mississippi River, working out of Vicksburg and Natchez.

So now I'm leaving my cheating wife behind, and I'm headed for the Port of Houston. I know I'll miss my kids, but I can't live with their mother anymore, so there it is. If I stayed, there would be a nasty divorce tearing the family apart, and she would end up with custody anyway. Even if she is a lying, cheating skank.

My first priority was to get a job. I checked into a cheap motel, and started making the rounds of diesel shops and truck dealers. I had 14 years' experience, and all the mechanic certifications, so by the end of the day I had a job. I started on Monday working on the boats supplying oil rigs in the Gulf.

This was a good start, but my ultimate goal was to get away. I had to get away from Linda, from her family, from her cop lover, and I had a plan. The next day I went down to the union hall and started the paperwork to get my merchant marine license. The engine in a container ship or a tanker, or even a cruise ship is no different than those I worked on in the Navy. Within a month I was ready to set sail on the Nederland Provider, a Dutch container ship, sailing with the tide out of Bayport, TX. I started as an apprentice engineer.

Before I left, I called Jimmy Hankins to let him know where I was. My home port was going to be Rotterdam, and I told I'd let him know when I got an address there. Linda had been served the divorce papers a week after I left. She signed them immediately and mailed them back. The divorce would be final within six months. I looked forward to being at sea at the time.

Chief Reyker came to work after Christmas, and found a package on his desk. After he opened the package, Frank 'Dickwad' Bowman was demoted and transferred to Animal Control. He became a dog catcher. Six months later he was fired. The only dog he ever caught was the mayor's daughter's poodle.

Mary Lou Bowman filed for divorce, and took dickwad to the cleaners. She got the house, the car, the kids, and 75% of marital assets. And he had to pay $1500 a month for child support, and another $1000 for alimony. His wife had a very good attorney, Jimmy Hankins.

Frank moved in with Linda. When Linda saw that Frank was broke, she kicked him out too. So, Frank ended up in a one room studio apartment, eating Ramen noodles and tuna from the can. After he was fired, he went to jail for non-payment of child support and alimony. An ex-cop, Frank did not enjoy his time in the can.

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After leaving Bayport, we stopped for two days in Charlotte, then for two days in Baltimore. We used these stops to inspect the engines and other machinery on the ship, and to do any service that required the engines to be stopped. Since I was the junior crewman in the engine room, I had to stand watch instead of going ashore. Not that I had any interest in getting off of the ship. After Baltimore, our next port would be our home port of Rotterdam. We would get a week of shore leave there.

At Rotterdam, the engines would be inspected and undergo a major service. A crew from shore would come aboard to do the work. I was starting to become acclimated to shipboard life. It wasn't unlike my days in the Navy, except I didn't have some Chief Petty Officer ragging my ass about some meaningless nonsense. And the food was better. I shared a cabin with another crewman from the engine room, Lars Eigleman from Norway. Most of the technical crewmen, like the engine room and bridge and communications technicians were European. The deck crewmen were from Malaysia, the Philippines, or India. The chef was Swedish, and he had two assistants, both from Nigeria. One served as the steward when we had passengers. I was the only American on the crew.

When I wasn't standing watch in the engine room, I was sleeping or eating. I had maybe four hours a day for myself, and during that time I did my laundry or read. The ship had a small library, just a bookshelf with a few books in a corner of the galley, in various languages. The collection did contain a few volumes of Hemingway. I started with "The Sun Also Rises". I'm hoping that in the future I can take some of my shore leave time to visit Paris and Spain.

Standing watch in the engine room is not the most exciting job you could have. As long as the engines are running as intended, you just stand around monitoring instruments. There are at least two crewmen on duty, as well as the Chief Engineer or an Assistant Chief Engineer. I learned the routine was for one man to watch the instruments, and the other two may be playing cribbage or chess. We talked about our homes, our families, and of course, women.

The Chief Engineer was Franz Gruber, originally from southern Bavaria in Germany. He now lived with his family in Amsterdam. He grew up in Germany learning to work on MAN diesels, and Mercedes and BMWs. He went to work on the Rhine river boats, and moved up to seagoing cargo ships. He had been working in the engine room of cargo ships for 30 years.

After we docked in Rotterdam, it took 12 hours for the containers to be unloaded, and then the ship was moved away from the terminal to the company docks. We would remain there for a week for a complete engineering inspection, before returning to the terminal to load outgoing containers. As I was preparing to disembark the ship, the Chief stopped me.

"Come, my young friend, you come home with me. My good wife, Gretel, will have prepared a feast for us; you will sleep in a big bed tonight, and meet my family. Tomorrow we will introduce you to Amsterdam." he said in his heavy German accent.

Carrying our seabags, we took the trolley to the train station, the Haupt Banhof. We then took a train to Amsterdam, and then another trolley to Chief Gruber's house. It was a nice 2 story gray stucco home, with a red tile roof, in a modest neighborhood of similar homes. In the driveway was a gray Peugeot 301 sedan. We walked through the gate, and through the carefully maintained front yard, covered in gravel with a few flower beds and shrubs. As is the custom with most European homes, there was no grass.

I mentioned how nice the house and garden looked.

"Mark and Evan, my sons, are responsible for taking care of the house while I am gone. I see they have been keeping up with their chores."

For just a moment I thought of my own sons.

Before we reached the front door, it opened and we were greeted by Frau Gruber. She was an attractive mature woman, about sixty, with her graying blond hair in a French braid. I would describe her figure as Rubenesque, full but still attractive. She was wearing a knee length modest dress, befitting a Dutch hausfrau, knee length cotton socks and slippers. She hugged her husband in a manner a wife would greet her husband who has been at sea for eight weeks. When the Chief finally was able to catch a breath, he introduced me to his wife. I went to shake her hand, and she grabbed me in a vigorous hug as well. Her ample bosom was trapped between us. I hoped my reaction wasn't too obvious.

Inside the door, I could see everyone was expected to remove their shoes, and wear a pair of slippers while inside the house. I followed the Chief's example, and he showed me a pair of slippers to wear. He then showed me where to stow my seabag. I returned to the parlor, where the Chief handed me a Heineken beer while we waited for dinner. We tried not to talk shop while off the ship, but it was hard since that was the main thing we had in common. The Chief told me of growing up in Germany after the war, with the deprivations they were still suffering even into the '50s. As soon as he was old enough, he went to sea.

Dinner was a delicious traditional Dutch fare, and I enjoyed getting away from the meals we had onboard. For dinner, we were joined by the Gruber sons, Marc, 19, and Evan, 18. They are both in university in Amsterdam, but still living at home. Marc is studying engineering and Evan is studying accounting and business computer systems. There are also two daughters, Giselle, 26 is studying classical literature at Cambridge, and Evie, 24 is studying classical music in Vienna. I learned that Frau Gruber is also an accomplished musician, playing the violin in the symphony orchestra for the last 20 years. She also teaches violin privately. Her students range from 6 years old to 65.