Chapter Five
“Hey Dad,how are you feeling today?” I duck inside the small apartment, giving him one of those awkward side-man hugs, before following him to the ugly brown couch leftover from my childhood. Why, on earth, had he decided to keep the thing instead of buying something new when he moved out of the boathouse?
I sit down, the brown pleather puckering under my body, as I try to get comfortable on the stupid piece of furniture. “You know, Dad, we could always go buy you a new cou–.”
“Not another word. This couch still has quite a few years left in her, now don’t ya?” My dad pats the couch as though it is a family pet and not an old piece of furniture, before I see an opening to continue.
“So, you never answered me before, Dad. How are you feeling these days?” I take the man in, his graying, thin hair slicked to the side to try and cover the missing patches of hair from the chemo, his tired, red-rimmed, and baggy eyes staring back at me, probing me for pity. I pull myself together, trying to hide whatever vulnerable thoughts I might have been expressing as I wait for his answer.
“Same as always, Son. I don’t know why you keep asking me that. It’s just a little bit of cancer, nothing too serious.” He folds his arms over his chest as he crosses his ankles in front of him, a guarded stance if I ever saw one. I’ll find out more when I go to his next appointment with him in a couple of months. Dad isn’t always a straight shooter with me, but Dr. Frendrickson won’t beat around the bush; she will give it to the both of us straight. If the radiation and chemo are helping, then she will let us know, but if not, she will let us know what other options there are for him. I shake the doubts from my thoughts and focus on my weekly visit with my dad.
“So, I have something I wanted to discuss with you Cooper.”
I sit forward, the anticipation of his words drawing me in.
“I was thinking about what we spoke about a few months ago, and have decided that it might be time to hand over the rest of the business to you.”
I try to stay calm, as my insides do a happy dance. I was hoping this was what he wanted to talk about.
I cool my jets and lean back letting myself relax into the bunchy old couch. “That’s awesome news, Dad. When do you want to take care of the paperwork?”
“Oh, probably in the next month or so. I want to see how this next big job goes.” I scrunch my eyebrows down in question. What big job is he talking about? He sees my confusion and continues on, “The NOAA should be reaching out to plan their bi-yearly expedition with you soon, so be sure to answer those messages on your phone. I have worked with Dr. Kendrig for years and would hate for that relationship to fall through the cracks just because the business has mostly changed ownership.” I try not to roll my eyes at him, and gulp down my nervousness at the memory of my response to the woman who had called me a million and a half times. I remembered Dr. Kendrig from the many times I tagged along with my dad on his little outings with the sea turtles, and Miss Thatcher was not the Doc. Also, this is the ‘big job’ he was referring to? Crap.
“I... uh…,” I reach up to my face, scratching at the stubble on my chin that has grown in since this morning, avoiding eye contact with the man, while trying to figure out how to tell him I had completely destroyed the relationship between the NOAA and ‘Captain of the Cove’.
“Oh, nuts, boy, what did you do? Please do not tell me you forgot to return the good Doc’s phone call?” My shoulders stiffen as I lock eyes with my father.
“I.. um.. may have turned down the job.” My fist is up by my mouth, my words muffled as I try to say it in a way he can”t possibly hear.
“I’m sorry, what was that? I thought I heard you say you turned down the job. But that couldn’t possibly be right, right?” Dad stands from his chair, his eyes flashing in anger.
“Ahem… I… er… may have turned down the job.” My dad is now in front of me, his fists clenched in anger by his sides, his face turning an unnatural shade of red.
“You are going to pick up your phone and call Dr. Kendrig back right now–no ifs, ands, or buts about it.” He points to my phone, and I try not to crack a smile at his use of the word but as I reach for my phone.
“But Dad…”
“I said now!” His legs are touching mine now with how close he is standing, and I can feel the heat radiating off of his body as it sways in front of me. I had better relent; who knows how much longer he can stand there like this in his condition?
“Fine. But Dr. Kendrig isn’t even on the team anymore. Some new girl named Molly is the new lead biologist for the NOAA, and she left me a ridiculous amount of messages.” I scroll through my phone, looking for the number I haphazardly saved in my contacts under the name ‘Crazy Message Lady,’ my thumb hovering over the call button in dreaded anticipation.
“Well, she might just be nervous about her new position and wants to have everything ironed out. Can’t blame a person for being prepared now, can you?”
I look up at my dad, waiting for him to call off his order, before throwing my hands up in the air and hitting the call button on the phone. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing.” The line rings, and I stand up, pacing back and forth across the living room as my dad watches me with narrowed eyes from across the room.
“Hello?” I hear her voice answer on the other end as I gulp down my pride before responding.
“Hi, Molly, this is Coop from ‘Captain of the Cove,’ I just wanted to call you to let you know that my schedule opened up and I will be available during the dates you specified.” There. Done. But I wince as my dad shakes his head at me from across the room.
“You tell that woman the truth, Cooper, or I will.” I try to cover the phone as he speaks, but fail to reach the speaker as the line goes quiet.
“Hello?” My voice squeaks out, like a kid going through puberty.
“The truth about what, Mr. Heyes? And why is someone listening to our conversation? I have to say, that is not very professional.” This Molly woman sounds like she might be getting angry, and between my seething father and this irritable woman, it is about all the feelings I can handle right now.
I take a deep breath and let my words fly like the wings of a pitiful newborn bird, “I may have lied to you when I said I wasn’t available because you called and left me like a bazillion messages, and it kinda made a red flag go off in my head, like hello, this woman might be crazy, so I decided to turn you down and pretend that my schedule is all booked up instead.” I blow out the rest of my breath, my eyes going wide as I realize I just word vomited all over the place, and that baby bird has now crash-landed on the bottom of the forest floor. Splat. I glance over at my dad, and he has his face in his hand, shaking it back and forth, avoiding my eyes like I am some kind of idiot, which, let”s be honest, I am.
I wait for Miss Thatcher’s response, and I can feel the sweat trickling down my sideburns and onto my chin as I continue to pace back and forth across the room. Did Dad turn the heat up in the place or something? The other end of the line is silent, Dad is quiet, the room is dead still, and all I can hear is my heartbeat beating in my ears as I wait for this irritating lady to respond back to my stupidity.
Finally, I hear her clear her throat, and as she starts to speak, the sound of someone”s laughter comes through in the background of her phone before it disappears, entirely silent once again. I hear her clear her throat again, and the laughter starts up again, and the sound is gone again in an instant. It almost sounds as if she is muting her phone, and then unmuting it. Is someone else listening to our conversation? If so, this lady has some nerve. I clench my fists by my side. No. She is not going to make me mad. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out. I continue to do this over and over again while her phone mutes and unmutes a few more times, before she and whoever is cracking up on her end have themselves under control.
“Mr. Heyes? I am so sorry about that. I must have a bad connection or something.” She clears her throat, an anxiousness in her voice as she continues to speak. “Thank you for being honest with me; that was… um… a very… interesting way to inform me of your concerns,” she says the word interesting slowly, as though she is questioning whether or not it was in fact interesting, “but I very much appreciate your willingness to admit the error of your ways and accept my offer.”
The error of my ways?Oh this is just ridiculous. This is mostly my business and I do not have to take this kind of crap from anyone. I have a snarky response in my head of exactly what I would like to say to this woman when a large hand snatches the phone out of mine.
“Dad, what are yo–,” he gives me one look, and the question I was going to ask dies on the tip of my tongue.
“Hello, Miss Thatcher? This is Cooper”s father, Mr. Heyes. As the previous owner, I would just like to apologize for my son’s behavior and would like to offer you our special discounted rate for your expedition, as well as Cooper”s services. He would be more than happy to help with your equipment while you are here. I will make sure his calendar is cleared and that you have everything you need.” He winks at me from across the room and the feeling of nausea settles in my stomach at the unpleasantness of it all. I listen intently as he continues, “Oh, that is so kind of you to say, Miss Thatcher.” My dad’s face begins to turn red as she goes on. “Yes, I do agree. I wish that too. I will let him know, and I will be personally ensuring that everything runs smoothly for your visit.” I glare at my father, and he ignores me as he hangs up the phone.
“Well, it is all settled then. Miss Thatcher will be here in a couple of months, and you will be her personal escort to and from the island.” He turns and looks at me, his eyes blazing into mine, “And when I say personal escort, I mean that precisely. You will be flying her, you will be carting her equipment where she needs it to be taken, and you will be driving her wherever she needs to go. Is that understood, son?” My dad crosses his arms over his chest and settles back down on the couch.
“Dad, I’m not just some teenager you can boss around. I am a grown adult with responsibilities of my own. I don’t have to do anything.” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his own position, and take my seat on the couch.
“Did you happen to forget, Son, that I still own a certain percentage of ‘Captain of the Cove’? So, yes. You don’t have to listen to me. You don’t even have to do anything that I promised her. However, if you want my percentage of the company, like we spoke about earlier, you might want to re-think your stance.” He directs his gaze toward me, his eyebrows lowering at me in irritation as my jaw drops open in surprise.
“But, Dad, I have worked really hard this past year, proving that I can run this business on my own. What does this have to do with any of that?” I feel the anger bubbling up in my chest at the thought that this one stupid mistake could cost me what I have worked so hard for.
“Here is the deal, Son,” he says, sitting forward, leaning his arms on his knees. “If you can prove to me, with this NOAA job, that you can handle my legacy and work with this gal peacefully, then, and only then, will I relinquish the rest of the business to you.” The anger continues to well up inside of me as I clench and unclench my fists, remembering to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, repeating the exercise over and over, again and again, until the anger has somewhat dissipated.
“Have we got a deal, Cooper?” The old man juts his hand out toward me, waiting for me to shake it. I stare at it for a second, and clasp it with my own.
“Just remember. After this job, the company is mine.” I get up from the couch and walk to the door.
“I thought we were having dinner.” He stands from the couch, motioning toward the food on the stove.
“I’m not hungry anymore. See you next Friday, Dad.” I open the door and walk outside, heading for my car. I start up the engine and wait a minute before punching the steering wheel with my fist. “Gosh, Dang it.” I shut off the car and throw open the door, heading back to the front door that my dad just happens to be standing in. He slaps me on the shoulder with his hand and motions inside toward the table.
“I’m starving,” he says. “Let’s eat.” Reluctantly, I move toward the table, and we both sit down and eat in uncomfortable silence.