Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

But One Girl Won't Give Up (Continued from page 55) of the couples had managed to show. "Five minutes," he muttered to himself, about the others, "and show or not, we're taking off." At exactly 9:30, the little yellow convertible pulled up alongside the yacht. Rock watched as the girl — tall, dark, dressed in white slacks and shirt and a redstriped jacket — got out of the car and rushed towards the boat. He recognized her as Linda Cristal. the young South American actress who worked at the same studio where he worked, whom he'd met a few times, at a party here, a reception there. He recognized her type, too, he thought. The vital type, he thought to himself, yawning internally, as she waved at him and shouted "Hi, Rrrrrrock!!" as she continued to rush towards the boat. "I'm here," she said, smiling broadly, when she reached him. "I hope I am not too late. I really hope that, in all apology. Are you surprised to see me?" Rock ignored the apology, the question. "Where's Al?" he asked. "Al — " Linda said. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this about a friend, Rock — but he's sick, with the bad sore throat. Thursday night, when he called and asked me if I'd like to come along on the cruise, he sounded fine. But," she went on, "this morning, at eight o'clock, when he called to say he couldn't make it. because his throat had the soreness — " She shook her head. " — he sounded terrible . . . like this." She made a gargling noise, and laughed. Rock did not laugh back. Instead, he continued to look at her. And Linda's laughter, her smile, disappeared. "I don't mean to make fun," she said. "I know that the sore throat is not a pleasant thing. But with the pills, the salt and warm water . . . he'll get over it. Don't worry." There was a pause, a long one, as Rock continued to say nothing. Linda forced a smile to her lips again. "And meanwhile," she said then, "I thought I might as well come anyway, on the boat trip, even if Al couldn't." Her face began to redden a little. "I know, maybe it isn't proper, a girl coming alone," she said, " — but for two days now I look so forward to this . . . I thought maybe it would be all right." Her fingers played momentarily with the handle of her small suitcase. "Is it," she asked, "all rieht?" "Sure," said Rock, unenthusiastically. "Bueno. good," said Linda. She looked up, towards the sails. "Now," she said, "let's hoist the mizzmast and be off." "Miz?enmast," said Rock. She looked back at him. "Is that how vou say it, in the nautical language ... in English?" she asked. "Mizzenmast?" "Yep." Rock said. "So then," Linda started to say again, "let the crew hoist the — " Rock interrupted her. "Lin'-'a," he said, "if you'd like a cup of hot coffee . . . some bacon and eggs — " he pointed " — that ladder will take you down below, to the galley. And you can join the others. "Me," he said, "I'm going to be busy now . . . It's late ... I'd like to take off while the tide is still with us." Linda clutched the handles of her suitcase even more tightly. "Yes, mi capitan," she said, softly, her <S4 voice quivering just a bit, as she turned and walked towards the staircase to which Rock had pointed. . . . God tempers and worse moods "It was a strange day, the rest of that first day," another member of the party has since said. "Both Linda and Rock were quiet, reserved, out of it, out of the whole mood of what was supposed to be this fun, salt-sprayed week end. Linda was embarrassed. She'd come alone and she was sorry now for having done this. Rock's reception had been far from cordial and Linda couldn't seem to understand why. And this not knowing why bothered her. Made her gloomy, after a while. Tense. Silent . . . Rock was in an even worse mood. He was downright bad-tempered all the rest of that morning, and afternoon. Those of us who knew him had never seen him act like this before. But we began to grasp the reason for his moodiness after a while. We realized that it had to do with Linda. She had broken a cardinal rule of his. 'Never.' he'd once said, 'am I going to bother with a girl aboard the Khairuzham. The Khairuzham's my girl, my date,' he'd said, ' — you others can couple up, but for me. my boat's enough.' This anti-female attitude, of course, was a result of Rock's trouble with Phyllis (his exwife) the divorce, the haggling over the settlement, the mess of headlines the whole thing caused, the bad taste it left in his mouth for anything romantic, even to the point of spending a little time with a girl, more or less alone. And now. with Linda on board, alone, unescorted, Rock had the feeling that he was obliged to be polite and spend some time with her. "And damn if he was — was his attitude. "So the day passed, the two of them uncomfortable. All of us uncomfortable. "Until finally, at seven o'clock, when the supper gong rang the rest of us were all too glad to head for the galley, and the food and wine, just to break the strain. "So glad that we didn't even notice at first that neither Rock nor Linda was with us. And when we did notice this, finally, we figured, well, they'd each gone to their cabins in order to get away, not only from us. their by-now whispering audience— but from each other. . . ." Talk topside Actually, the friend was right. Both Rock and Linda had retired to their cabins. But. somehow, after a while. Rock had decided to go topside, to sit, alone, on a bench at the stern of his boat. And. not long after, Linda too had decided to go up for some air. . . . They saw each other, just as dusk began to descend. Rock had been sitting back, gazing up at the sky. "Hello." Linda said. "Hi," said Rock, facing her for a moment. He looked back at the sky again. "That." Linda said, following his gaze, "those stars you look at — that is the constellation Orion. Yes?" Rock nodded. "That is my favorite of all the constellations." Linda said. "Uh-huh," said Rock. "Really," Linda said. "You won't believe this, but on my right leg, right here" — she pointed, and Rock looked down — "in tiny little moles, I have the exact reproduction of Orion . . . Isn't that silly? But it's true . . . Five little tiny marks, and then three larger ones . . . And do you know, but for some reason I am very superstitious about this. I look on this constellation as having brought me any of the luck I might have in my life today. "It is silly," she repeated, "isn't it?" Rock shrugged. "Not if that's what you really believe," he said. "Orion," Linda said, after a moment. "I think that is a very appropriate name for us to be discussing on this trip. ... I mean, Orion was the name of one of the most famous yachts of all time. Isn't that right? Built in the city of Norfolk, in the state of Virginia, in the year 1930 — or 1931." "How do you know that?" Rock asked. "My father," Linda said, "he told me that. ... He used to have a boat. A sail-boat. ? "'ttle smaller than this, but a sail-boat just the same . . . And he used to tell me all these things when we were on the boat." Remembering, she smiled a little. "He used to call me his first-mate, my father," she went on. "I had two brothers. Miguel, he was the oldest — he's married now. And Antonio — he was next; he has since died. But my father, with both his sons, he used to favor me. I guess because I was the youngest and the girl he had waited for so long— his daughter. And so, when I was old enough, he used to take me all over with him, everyplace, and all of his attention was to me. And all of mine was to him ... I guess that's why I remember, even about the Orion." Something in common She looked away from Rock now, out at the water. "As a boy," she asked, "did you have the kind of life I did, with your father, on the sea so much?" "No," Rock said. " — We lived in Chicago. There was a lake. But we didn't see much of it. We didn't have much money. We certainly didn't have any boats . . . The closest I got to the water was in the summer, for swimming, the hottest days of the year, when my mother would take us . . . This boat, this is something new." "My father." Linda said, "he was fairly wealthy— he had a factory of some sort in Uruguay. And in Argentina, where we live-', 'le published a magazine, with stories about movie stars and romantic figures and such things ... So he had some money. And he had his boat. And we would spend much time on it. . . ." Her voice seemed to trail off a little. "And do you know what I would do on it?" "What?" Rock asked. "Well." Linda said, remembering, more and more, "during the day I would be the tomboy, my father's helper ... I would spend all the time polishing this brass thing and fixing up that broken line, doing all sorts of things like that . . . And then at night — " She paused, and she sighed. " — At night then," she said, "always my father and my mother and the boys would go to bed early, right after dinner, to read, or do puzzles, to get relaxed for the next day. And then it became my time on the boat, my time alone. "I would, I would come up here, alone, to the deck then, just like this. I would stand. For hours and hours. I would look out at the sea then, just like now. And I would watch its rhythm and its peace and I would think of all of the important things of life — my happiness, my sorrows, my confusions. And, somehow, looking at the sea, its rhythm, its peace, all of the important things, the questions, would become answered in my mind. . . ." She turned to face Rock again. "Have you ever done that," she asked, "communed with the sea?"