I've always valued my self-control and being calm when others lose their shit. I value it because I had to work for it; my father kicked me out when I was young, and he was right. I was worthless. I never did hardcore drugs but I drank, and fought, and stole enough that he could see where I was headed.
I was 19 when my best friend got shot and I swore off petty theft and found a job. Had I known working would piss off my old man so much I'd have done it sooner.
Daddy was a towboat captain and worked with the same company for 27 years. Unless you work on the Mississippi River it's hard to relate to the lifestyle and what the captains really do. On my dad's boat, they worked 28 days away from home pushing groups of barges, or tows as they're called, more than 1400' long. They seem to take up the whole river when they come down but then you find they have to make room for other tows and ships and things get a little stressful. It's not an easy life and he did his best to kick me off his boat.
I knew the office liked him and I used his good name to get me the job. I'd always assumed he was still angry with me for all the years of me being a fuck up. He put me on deck 12 hours a day and woke me up every time we had to make or break tow. When my 12-hour watch was up I was sent to the engine room for another 4. After 3 hitches he asked if I was ready to quit.
"Nope. Not until I get your job." I told him sarcastically.
He didn't say anything, just turned around and went back to work. I went back to my 16 hours days, never complaining because I'll be damned if he was gonna see me cry. I was always tall and lean but deck work on a tow requires strength I didn't start out with. There's no better workout than humping cables and ratchets all day and I got bigger than I thought possible. At the end of my first year I was carrying 2 bundles of cables at a time along with all the pry bars and ratchets we'd need, no one outworked me. That was when daddy finally brought me to the wheelhouse.
"Well, if you're not gonna quit, you might as well learn to do this right." He told me.
My engine room hours stopped but were replaced with wheelhouse time, and instead of getting woken up to make and break tow I was woken up to steer difficult bends in the river or meet traffic in bad situations.
I never took his job but when I finally made Captain he told me he hated seeing me out there because he knew how hard this life was and always wanted something better for me. I couldn't picture anything better than being him, but he was right, this life is hard.
I stayed in south Louisiana, got married at 24, and thought I had life figured out; I was in love with Sarah and had a good career lined up. Our marriage started with a world of opportunities at our feet but after the kids, life became all about them. We used to play all day and go out at night, but our carefree life had slowly narrowed to a daily grind of school, homework, sleepovers, and sports.
I wasn't surprised when 2 years ago Sarah asked for a divorce and while she's no saint it was probably my doing. It wasn't even her affair that ended the marriage, I think it was really just me. I was cold at home. I'd spend my 28 days trying not to run over other boats or break up my tow and the boys they sent me for deckhands acted like everything is too hard for them. I almost lost my job for cussing out a kid who was standing in the way of a line. That line would have cut him in half and I'd told him time and time again not to stand there. In a world that's passing me by my rough ways and hard upbringing are not something people value anymore. At home I just wanted the peace and quiet I didn't find at work, and that translated into being cold.
The kids were a different story; we had 2 girls and 1 boy and they were my every joy in life. The boy and I would go hunting, while I took his sisters to gymnastics and dance classes. In fact, they were the easiest part of the divorce. I wanted joint custody and it worked out well with my schedule, so every 28 days on my way home I'd pick them up. Sarah didn't want the house because she said it was too far out of the way so I agreed to pay her half of it, along with alimony for the next ten years but then I'm free.
Honestly, its worked out for both of us. It took about a year but she seems happier now than I ever remember and I don't have to dread coming back to an unhappy house. The hardest part for me has been maintaining a social life. My friends don't come over much because I can't get out but I still try.
However, no matter how hard life had been nothing up to that point had prepared me for having a new girl on my boat. I should have known from the moment I saw a BMW SUV in our fleet full of banged up, muddy work trucks that things weren't going to go well. Myra was a college graduate from some maritime school up north. She might have been from my home town but we couldn't have been more different if we were cats and dogs.
It wasn't that she was female. I've trained 2 women, one is now a pilot on another boat and the other works in our office; Myra was different. I know the world is changing but she was a walking stereotype for why women shouldn't be on the water. The office agreed to put her on some fast track program so she didn't have to work on deck the same number of hours as the rest of us, and instead of introducing herself she told me, "I can't share a room," before I ever had a chance to say hello.
"You're sharing a room with Charlie; he works opposite of you. No one has their own room, but all the doors have locks. Enjoy your privacy." I told her flatly before we got in the crew change van.
If not for her attitude she would have been attractive. She had dark Cajun features, with black hair and an athletic build. Her deep eyes, and small arrogant nose were cute and on anyone else, the light smear of freckles across her cheeks would have been alluring.
Our first hitch was underway and the rest of the time went just as poorly; Myra complained that she couldn't lift the cables or couldn't paint because the fumes made her light-headed. By the end of the 28 days, I was on the phone with H.R. begging them to get her off my boat. I was denied.
By the second hitch I noticed Charlie and Byron doing all of Myra's work, apparently, I was alone in my disdain for her. This was a habit I should have stopped because Myra somehow convinced herself that I was just like the boys on deck and thought offhand comments would endear her to me.
I called her to the wheelhouse to watch me flank a point then make the steer on a bridge. However, she forgot that it was a work boat and not a cruise ship because she stopped to shower before coming up. I was in the middle of the flank by the time she walked in.
"I knew you missed me." She said smiling at me as she turned the corner.
"You're late, I've already started the flank. I wanted you to see the set-up too." I told her standing up and stepping away from the throttles.
"That's okay, I'll just watch you then." She told me walking up behind the captain's chair.
"Sit down. You're here to train and you can't do that by not working." I said, pointing to the chair.
Myra sat down and I started to tell her how to work the flanking rudders and how long to keep backing the engines but with her head just below mine, I could smell her fresh shampoo. She smelled clean and tropical and I found myself looking down at her hair each time I inhaled.
She was nervous and unsure about herself so I kept my commands slow but each time I paused I looked down at her hair again and couldn't stop thinking about how soft it looked and how good she smelled.
"It's not straightening up. I can't get it to turn!!" She said, her voice cracking.
She was right, it was a bad situation. I'd been so busy looking at her Godamned hair that I'd let us fall too deep in the bend.
"You have to drive out. Come ahead full, hard right rudder." I told her, knowing that even if she did it right away it might not work.
"I can't! I can't do this. You take it." She told me jumping out of the chair.
I took the controls and barely managed to get us out before we hit the bank. I can assure you it was luck and not skill that got my dumbass out.
"I can't believe you did that to me! You knew I wasn't ready." She screamed at me. Myra's watery eyes were already starting to tear up as she ran out the wheelhouse.
I didn't do it to be an ass and had she hit the bank it would have been on my license and not hers, but she was there to train and this is how I do it, for everyone. Being a Captain means having people's lives in your hands, and that means stress. Making things easy for her now and pencil whipping her training could get someone killed later on.
Wish I could tell you we found a way to work together and things improved but the only way I found her tolerable was to not be around her. Before that incident, she was at least respectful and everything was yes sir and no sir, but that degraded over time.
Unable to get her off my boat without firing her and causing myself six kinds of hell, I put her on the watch opposite of me. She could do all her training with my pilot at night.
