The Water Mark (Part 4 Of 5)
By Chris Whitley
- 123 reads
Thomas didn't see Carl until the following Wednesday. They met at the school, and during a break they took a coffee sitting on the patio by a small lawn. Thomas was excited to know what Carl thought about the chapters he had given him.
He had read Carl's stories; he couldn't believe how good they were! Stunningly good! He had read them in one sitting, long into the evening! He couldn't put them down! They were so imaginative, intelligent, full of love, sex, drugs, travel, and ironic wit! He found it hard to believe these stories, with their rich almost flesh and blood characters, could have come out of Carl's imagination – the Carl he had known!
'I loved your stories, Carl! I couldn't put them down! I read them in one night!
'Really! you liked them?'
'Yes, really great Carl! I loved them all! You must really try to get them published. I'm sure they'll jump on them!'
'Well, I am working on that. A friend of mine is trying to get an agent for me – she says it's the way to do it. I may have to move to London to help it along, though!
'Oh! London! Well, I'm sure you'll have no problem. I loved them all... And the novel, is that ready?'
'No, not quite, but it won't be long, a few more chapters. I'll let you look at it when it's there.
'Did you get a chance to look at mine?' Thomas asked.
Carl's face became that of a messenger of gloom.
'Well, Thomas, you told me to be honest.... I.... it didn't really work for me.... Some of it was good, but I thought, maybe it's the subject matter... It was your dad's war, after all! Your heart didn't seem to be in it! It had all the dates, but I didn't feel the characters could have been real people... you tell us who they are, and what they did, but they don't seem to feel what is happening to them – they don't seem to become who you say they really are... you know, what keeps them awake at night...?
Thomas looked drained. A long mulish empty look hung from him.
'Mmmm...', He couldn't raise his eyes to meet Carl's. 'I must look at it again,' he mumbled.
'Well,' Carl ventured, bending and taking some papers from his briefcase. 'You should see what's good about it, and work with that. I made some notes for you to look through..., but if they don' make sense, you should just ignore them. But added, 'that's what it's all about, Thomas! I've done so much rewriting... you wouldn't believe it!
Thomas was overcome with disappointment, he had expected Carl to be enthusiast. He sipped at his coffee, hoping to cover up his welling feelings.
'Sure, I mean, I'll go to work on it. It's not even a first draft anyway, and I think I need to do a lot more research...'
'Maybe you should try some shorter stuff....'
'Mmme,' was all Thomas said. He felt torn!
'So, Amanda told me you were getting stoned on Sunday!' Carl said, changing the subject. So now you're a weed-bird!
'Yeah,' Thomas said through a forced smile. 'I really liked it, I felt so relaxed..... I wanted to ask you where I could buy some. I have a date with Amanda tomorrow at the nudist beach, and wanted to have some to smoke with her.
'You have a date?' Carl looked surprised.
'Yeah, she invited me last Sunday. It's not far is it?
'No, ten minutes on the bus.' Carl was quiet for a moment before he added, 'You can get some smoke from Casey, or ask Kent or Greg.'
There was a sucking silence. Thomas then asked Carl if Amanda was seeing anyone. Which Carl answered sharply by asking, 'Didn't you ask her?' Thomas looked at Carl, then said Angrily 'Well, no, I didn't – the situation didn't arise. What's the problem, Carl?
Listen Thomas!' said Carl, 'Amanda....you know... she's a…. free agent.... And yes, a bit of a flirt, But she doesn't do boyfriends...! So please, just don't get too serious with it! That's all I'm saying!'
Thomas found this so condescending, he snapped 'No, you listen, Carl! I like Amanda – yes, she's maybe a free agent – but I also think she likes me! Although, you don't seem to think that's possible! Or are you afraid she might be just trying to snare me, you know, like Julie...?'
Carl looked shocked, he shook his lowered head, then raised it, and said simply, in a calm, and controlled voice, 'fine!' He stood up and simply walked away, leaving Thomas shaking at the table, and nursing his cold coffee.
*****
The next day Thomas took the bus to the nudist beach. Someone at the school had written the name: Porto de Mos on a piece of paper, to show the driver when he paid. He sat in the nearest seat to the driver, so he could be easily signalled where to get off. He had a small rucksack with him, in which, along with his bathing stuff, he had a bottle of white wine, and a small package of raggy looking grass he'd bought from Casey in Lost Nights.
The bus ride was along the very dynamic coastal road west. To his left was always a frightening drop of the high cliffs, and sometimes a small cove and a beach. To his right only steep hilly, dry, red, sun-burnt fields, with the occasionally villa, or hotel.
There seemed to be a diamond sparkle to the day. Ever since the experience with Amanda on the beach his mind had been occupied by her. He wanted so much to make a closer connection to her.
But in that little whisper corner of his mind, he was also thinking about Carl. He hadn't seen him since their disagreement yesterday. And he regretted what he had said to him. After all they had been best friends for so long – blood friend, Carl had once called him. But, he felt sure Carl was wrong about Amanda.
As for the criticism of his writing, he thought Carl was right. He had read his chapters again after reading the notes Carl had written for him – and the good comments and bad ones all made sense. And he wanted to tell Carl this, and that he was determined to work on it all again.
But there was also the news that Carl would soon be leaving for London – when he thought about it, something delicate and lonely welled up in him – had he lost his only real friend? He felt a hollow sob in his chest. And Amanda, too, had said she wanted to leave. Which meant he would be friendless here in Lagos. He had the feeling his life was being pushed into a dark stairwell.
The bus ride took only about ten minutes. Where the driver told him to get off, there was no sign designating a bus stop, nor the name of the place. But he saw a little cove and the beach below.
This was the place. Amanda, had been right; there were very few people: maybe twenty naked bodies lying on the beach taking the sun, or strolling along the water's edge.
Thomas scanned them: and there she was! Lying on her front, exposing her slightly lighter tanned buttocks to the burning glare of the sun. He thought to shout to her, then changed his mind, thinking it would be cooler just to appear before her. He noticed there was another towel laid out next to her. 'She was expecting him!' So, it was correct what he had said to Carl: she did like him!
He hurried along the cliff looking for a way to get down. He came to a place where a thick rope – attached at one end to a strong metal ring, set in concrete in the ground – continued over the cliff edge. The rope then threaded three or four dangling, metre and half long, sharp metal rods like large sewing needles. It was obvious that these rods, at one time, had served as a rail, but being so flimsy had been dislodged from the cliff. So they served no purpose, which left only the rope!
The cliff must have been about fifty feet high. Thomas looked at the forty-five degree slope that went down about ten metres, then there was a large bulge, which the rope disappeared over. Was it a sheer drop after that?
He walked to the left and right of the rope, but couldn't get a view over the bulge. He walked further along the cliff hoping to find a better way down, but the cove soon came to an end. He walked fearfully back to the rope. He couldn't believe it. Was this a trick on the nudists – of whom they; the Portuguese, disapproved of – or a Portuguese compromise? To provide a place for nudists stuck out in the middle of nowhere (out of sight), and make it an obstacle course to get there – no wonder there were so few people here!
Thomas stood looking down the cliff terrified, then over to where Amanda was now laying on her back with her wonderfully shaped, proud standing breasts, and a dark thin line of pubic-hair exposed to both him and the sun! A battle between terror and lust began within him. Should he just go back to Lagos...? It wouldn't take long to walk..... He could just tell Amanda that he was unable to make it – some excuse...
But it didn't take longer than a couple of minutes for lust to win-out! – as it always does with young men with a lot of testosterone pumping through their systems!
Thomas reasoned that Amanda, and those other people all got down in one piece...! So reluctantly, and mumbling oaths and blasting Christ, he took the rope tightly in hand, and began backing down over the edge, and then down the acute slope....
He noticed a series of footholds had been cut into the side of the cliff, which he could use. Slowly, shaking – ignoring the dangling rods – he reached the bulge, he could now see over it to where, it did indeed, become an almost sheer drop of about three metres, before the forty-five degree slope continued down.
He began edging his way over it, trying to keep his body – as near as possible, at a balanced angle to the cliff. Then suddenly both his feet slipped, which caused his hands to begin to slide down the rope. His reflexes made him grip the rope tighter, which managed to stop the sliding, and a fall. He crashed painfully against the cliff! But hung on for dear life! The rope-burn to his hands was excruciating.
With a blistering racing heart, and his raw hands he gingerly managed to lower himself down the rope to the next slope, then finally down to the beach.
Falling to his knees, he struggled out of his rucksack, and rolled onto his back exhausted, sweating and panting!
The next thing he did, which is always the case in these circumstances, was to look around to see if anyone had been watching his undignified decent. Luckily it seemed no one had.
He sat in the shade of the cliff inspecting his chaffed raw hands, and eyeing Amanda, who was now only around fifty metres away.
When he had recovered a little, he picked up his rucksack and strolled over to her, trying to look as casual as possible, although his hands were afire, and he was still shaken, and sweating. His only worry now was about getting naked in front of her! He had put his swimming trunks on under his shorts, because he didn't want her to see him in white y-fronts – 'uncool!'
Amanda was lying on her front again, head in a thick paperback, wearing nothing but her wrap-around shades. He stopped a few paces to her right and said, 'Hi!' Her head turned towards him, but said nothing, for a moment – she didn't seem to recognize him. She took off the shades and said 'Oh hi!' She half turned her body, propping herself up on her arm, exposing her truly amazing breasts to his stare. They seemed to have a life of their own!
'You came!' she said.
'Yeah,' he said looking away, 'the cliff was a bit of a surprise....'
'Mmm, you have to be a bit of a mountain goat, don't you!' she smiled. 'But, you found it, alright?'
'Yeah, it's not very far. Have you been here long?'
'No, about an hour or so.'
Thomas wanted to lay down on that towel at her side, but felt too self conscious to ask or just do it. He wanted her to invite him, but she didn't!
He put down his rucksack, and took out his own towel and spread it about a foot or so from hers. He took off his shirt, and slipped off his sandals, then slowly took off his denim cut-down shorts. He sat down on his towel about to take off his trunks, when a large shadow fell on him! He looked up to see a very large! No! a giant naked man standing over him! Thomas gave a little jump. The guy had massive muscles, and looked like the Hulk. Not green, but dark-brown from a heavy tan. His face was large with wooden-like features, like one of those American-tobacco-store Indians, and his sheer bulk and bearing reminded him of a ships figurehead!
'Hi!' The Hulk said, then, 'Bom dia!'
Amanda introduced them. She said his name, but Thomas didn't even try to remember it; it didn't register, he was too taken-aback by this presence.
'He doesn't speak English,' she said.
The Hulk smiled at Thomas, then sat down on that towel on the other side of Amanda, and began stroking her shoulders.
'Jesus!' Thomas thought. He was completely gutted! He felt the blood rising to his face. It burned like his sore hands!
Amanda, spoke in Portuguese with the Hulk, while glancing around at Thomas, who sat looking like a very peeved gargolean hare. She was obviously explaining to the Hulk Thomas' sudden, and it seemed, unexpected appearance!
He felt as if he had been pole-axed! He felt ridiculous, like some worthless discarded toy. He didn't want to be there. He got up, and said he was going down to the water to freshen up. His emotions came soaring up to the surface, his eyes filled with tears. 'You bloody fool!'
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