Living Dangerously
The foolish young woman I was.
He takes a bite from his beer glass and chews it, the glass crunching in his mouth. I stare, not believing what I’m seeing, certain it must be a trick.
He swallows and sticks out his tongue, proving nothing’s in his mouth. I’m amazed, there’s no blood. I’ve never witnessed anything like it before. Everyone at the table cheers and claps, and I join in, still trying to grasp what I’d just seen.
I recognize him from frequenting a restaurant where I once worked, where he’d come in late at night with a woman on each arm. Tonight, I learn his name is Danny. He is a large guy with long black wavy hair, and a beard, looking like a pirate of long ago or a member of a biker gang. He’s the center of attention.
As the evening wears on people start pairing up. I weigh my options, not wanting to sleep alone. By now, it’s almost become a game of collecting men. Another notch on my bedpost. I’m always up for a challenge, a new adventure — outdoing the last experience.
Several Norwegian sailors from a ship in a nearby port are at the table. They speak very little English, but it doesn’t take much to communicate wanting sex. I move next to a dark, long-haired guy, and we quickly start necking.
He and I stagger from the tavern. Outside, we search for a place to fuck.
We’re in the middle of town with too many houses and businesses. No field or woods or other private places.
He leads me to a small red car in the parking lot and motions that it’s okay, that it’s the car he arrived in. We crawl into the backseat and quickly pull down our jeans and go at it. Not long after, we’re interrupted by a knock on the window. I turn to see several guys staring in. Danny, the glass eater, one of them.
The sailor and I pull up our pants and I prepare to leave. He clutches my hand and motions for me to stay. I shake my head, but he doesn’t take no for an answer and pulls me toward him. Without further thought, I close the car door, and the driver starts the engine.
“Where are we going?” I ask the driver.
“Taking the boys back to the boat.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Riverport,” he says, and soon we’re turning left at an intersection, heading outside of town. I settle in, stop asking questions, and focus on kissing the Norwegian guy during the twenty-five-minute drive to the boat.
Once at the docks, we board the ship. The sailors lead us to the galley, where we sit at a large wooden table drinking Heineken beer and eating strawberries. The sailor and I go to his bunk to finish what we started in the car. His shipmates keep entering the room for a peek and make comments in their foreign language, all the while the sailor and I ignore them.
Later, Danny enters and stands by the bunk. He says, “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
I turn and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.” He reaches out, takes hold of my arm, pulling me toward the edge of the bunk.
“No!” I break free. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not staying here,” he says in a firm voice as if it’s an obvious fact I should realize.
“Yes, I am,” I say, just as determined.
“No, you’re not.” He grips my arm again, trying to pull me from the bunk. I try to wrestle him off, but he’s too strong. “Get up. Get your clothes on. You’re leaving with us.”
“No.” I kick at him while the sailor wraps his arms around me, trying to keep me with him. It’s like a tug-of-war.
Danny lets go. I roll over and snuggle in the sailor’s arms. Twisting my head to the side, telling Danny, “I’m spending the night.”
Danny reaches in and tries prying me out of the sailor’s arms. “You are not staying on board this boat.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Let me spell this out to you,” he says, clearly frustrated. “You are on a ship full of horny men. This guy” — he points to the sailor — “might be okay, but after we leave, you’ll be alone, and you’ll be raped over and over. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Fuck off.” I don’t want to believe him, but I’m beginning to understand he’s right. And then it hits me. Where will I go? I’m in the middle of nowhere, too far from town to go back to where I planned to spend the night. How stupid and reckless I’ve been. I crumble like a little girl. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“You can stay at my place,” Danny says.
“What?” I bolt upright, almost hitting my head on the bunk above, angry that Danny isn’t telling me the truth. That he’s got another plan in mind, like scaring me into coming with him for his own selfish reasons. Pissed off, I say, “Why, so you can fuck me?”
“Don’t be like that,” he says. “Dress and come on.”
“Okay, okay.” I weigh the lesser of two evils and swing my legs over the side, scoop my jeans from the floor, pull them on, and gather my shirt. Standing, I pull the shirt over my head.
The Norwegian guy reaches out and takes hold of my hand before I leave. He motions to his watch and points from me to him, and I clearly understand he wants me to return, to meet him at 5:30 the next evening at the entrance to the docks.
I nod and smile. “Yes. Yes.”
I leave with Danny and the driver of the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To my grandmother’s where I live, “Danny says.
Good. At least I won’t be alone with him.
We saunter into his grandmother’s, and I’m greeted by a small grey-haired lady, the typical grandma out of a storybook.
“This is Barbara,” he says.
“Isn’t that what you call them all?”
Her quick comeback surprises me, and I bust out laughing. I instantly like her.
“Well,” she says to Danny, “you’re home safe and sound. I’m going to bed.” She says goodnight and leaves the room.
Danny pours whiskey into two glasses and hands me one. “Come on,” he says.
I follow him up the stairs to a bedroom. We sit on his bed, side-by-side. He rolls a fat joint and lights it. After we finish smoking it, I can no longer think straight. I down the whiskey even though I don’t like whiskey, especially straight.
Everything in the room blurs. I’m so high I’m afraid I’ll float off the bed.
He leans over and kisses me, his long mustache and beard wet and tasting of whiskey.
I accept where I am and what I’m going to do. There’s no argument or struggle left in me.
