The Waterman: A Novel of the Chesapeake Bay Read Online Free PDF Page B

continued.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œShe’s got her eye on you.”
    Clay shrugged. “It’s a friendship.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œShe’s just like that.”
    â€œWith you, maybe.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t be commenting on what you don’t know.”
    â€œI know what I see.”
    â€œShe was just trying to offer some comfort. In her way. Just like you do in yours.” Clay watched Byron shift his position. “She’s with Matty. Our feelings for each other are different. Anyway, you know how I feel about that.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure you’re gettin’ your mind off her, then.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou need to find some new dolly bird anyway.”
    â€œYou think I wouldn’t like to?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œFind one.”
    Byron grinned. “Yeah. Tell me about it.” He held up the ash of his cigarette, burning down. “Why is it that all we think about is women.”
    Clay grunted his assent.
    â€œMakes me kinda mad.”
    â€œNo sense being mad at them. They’re as lost as us.”
    â€œI’ve seen Laura-Dez a few times,” Byron offered. “Saw her last weekend.”
    It always struck Clay funny how Byron pronounced his girlfriend’s name, which was Lourdes. Her father was a dentist who had emigrated from Cuba. But Byron had called her Laura-Dez from their first date in high school, and she had somehow taken to it.
    â€œShe still sweet as ever?”
    â€œShe had some great pot. Took me to the drive-in in her VW van. We watched the
Culpepper Cattle Company
. We laid in the back. She let me strip her right there.” He paused. “Her skin is the smoothest. Pure. But she won’t come near my scar. Won’t touch it even. She’s scared of me now. Something. Distant.”
    â€œDoesn’t sound too distant.”
    â€œWe can’t talk. Like there’s nothin’ to say.”
    â€œShe’ll come around. She probably needs you to talk.”
    Byron paused. “Well, talk is cheap.”
    â€œNot all talk.”
    â€œMaybe not all talk.”
    Another flush of breeze rippled the surface of the river. It carried off the last orange flecks of ash from Byron’s cigarette just ashe flicked its stub into the water, and they both watched it sizzle and die in an instant.
    â€œYou know, you might as well finish school anyway. You’ve got this far.”
    Clay folded his arms. “I’ve been hearing that advice enough. Like an echo.”
    â€œDon’t sound from your tone like you got sense enough to follow it.” Byron grabbed two more beers from the cooler. He threw one to Clay.
    â€œProbably not.”
    â€œI was watchin’ you out there. Searchin’ the creeks. I saw your face. I saw it comin’.”
    Tapping the aluminum top with his finger, Clay opened his beer and took a drink. “I don’t particularly like where I’m heading now,” he said. “I don’t want to go to the city. I don’t want to sell stocks. Or insurance.”
    â€œBay’s hurt. Gettin’ sicker. You know those fellas in the statehouse don’t give a good goddamn.”
    Clay sat fingering his Adam’s apple. “Well, least it’s honest work.”
    â€œThat’s why it don’t pay. Don’t they teach you nothin’ in college?”
    â€œAnyway, I’ve mostly made up my mind.”
    â€œMostly, huh?”
    â€œYeah.” Clay turned back to the water and studied the jagged moon hovering just under the surface. “Yeah, mostly.” Then, turning, he added, “You know, you could use a job yourself.”
    Byron seemed to ponder this for a while. “I hear Mac Longley just bought hisself a new Grady White. Like a two hundred on the back. Cuddy cabin.”
    â€œShe’s a waxing gibbous moon,” Clay said, transfixed by the water.
    Byron gulped down the rest of his beer.