Fletch, Too

“So you two finally decided to show up?”

Barbara was in a long chair by the swimming pool at the Norfolk Hotel.

“What?” Carr said.

“What?” Fletch said.

Even the sky over Nairobi still wasn’t that clear.

“Safe and sound.” Carr rubbed his hands together. “But not home on the same day. Anyone else want a beer?”

Fletch stooped to kiss Barbara.

“You look all puffy,” Barbara said.

“What?”

“Puffy!”

“We’re full of sand.”

“Don’t shout.”

Fletch sneezed.

“I want a beer.” Carr signaled the pool bwana on the upper terrace.

“Were you guys up all night?” Barbara asked. “Your eyes are runny.”

“She wants to know if we spent the night drinking and dancing.”

“Yes,” Carr said. “We spent the night drinking and dancing.”

On the other side of the pool were an English couple in string bikinis and straw hats under an umbrella having a proper tea.

“We were in a sandstorm,” Fletch said.

“Sure.”

“We were in a sandstorm.”

“I hear you.”

“Not that bad a time.” Carr sat in a poolside chair. “I don’t mind sand.” He was speaking as does a person who can’t hear himself. “Your husband saw the cradle of humanity.” He sneezed. “Perhaps where man first walked.”

“Sure.”

Fletch sat on the edge of Barbara’s long chair. “This little old guy, he couldn’t weigh sixty pounds, held the wing of the plane down all night, so it wouldn’t flip in the wind.”

“Why are you two talking so loudly?”

“What?” Carr asked. He now had beer in hand.

“My, you’re gritty.” Barbara’s hand was on Fletch’s forearm. “Don’t they have water in whatever lake you were at?”

“Crocodiles, too.”

“Sure.”

Fletch’s tongue continuously ran over the sand on his teeth.

Carr said, “Life’s not all roasted goat.”

Barbara said, “I hope not.”

“What?” Fletch asked.

“I’ll admit it wasn’t a very good flight home.” Carr shook his head. “Couldn’t see.”

“You were supposed to be back in time for dinner last night.”

“There was a sandstorm, you see,” Fletch said.

“I had some fruit in my room.”

“Oh?” Carr said. “Did he leave politely?”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Wives always want to know why you don’t call home,” Carr said. “That’s the way it is with wives.”

“There were no phones, Barbara.”

“A fishing lodge without phones?”

“The madame wouldn’t let us,” Carr said. “She said the brothel’s phones were for paying customers only.”

“Did it ever cross your mind I might be worried?”

“We were almost sanded down a full size.” Fletch sneezed.

“Did you catch cold?”

“Air-conditioned brothel,” Carr said.

“Sand.” Fletch sneezed. “Sinuses.” He sneezed again. “Oh, hell.”

“Hope that’s all you caught.”

“Didn’t go fishing.” Fletch sneezed. The English couple looked over at him with concern. “Nile perch there. Crocodiles in the lake and the fishermen go out on it straddling logs, their legs and feet in the water.”

“What was I supposed to do if you didn’t show up?”

“We did show up.” Carr sneezed.

“Any word from my father?”

“No.”

Fletch stood up. “I’ve got to take a shower. Start getting this sand off. Thanks for a lovely trip.” Fletch sneezed. “Carr.”

Barbara came into the bathroom as Fletch was getting out of the shower. He had rinsed his mouth and nose and eyes, washed his hair, and scrubbed his body over and over again. He still felt like the inside of a cement mixer.

“I was worried,” Barbara said. “Worried sick.”

“There were no phones, Barbara. No radio that could work.”

“All day yesterday I sat here feeling sorry for the way I acted yesterday morning. For the things I said. Then you didn’t show up. Didn’t call. All night.”

“We were in a sandstorm near the Ethiopian border. There were no camels coming this way.”

“Then I began to get angry all over again. Angry and scared.”

Fletch banged the side of his head with the heel of his hand. “If my ears don’t pop soon, I’m going to go nuts. I feel like I’ve got a balloon in my head.”

“Then you two come prancing in this afternoon looking like a couple of kids who had been playing in the sandbox.”

“We flew home at twelve thousand five hundred feet,” Fletch said, “with the window open. Otherwise, Carr couldn’t see. The sandstorm reached that high. Even the cockpit was full of sand. Can you understand all that? We’re deaf. Our ears hurt. Carr kept having to open the window.”

“Did you stay away all night because of the way I acted yesterday morning? Were you trying to teach me a lesson or something?”

“Oh Jesus, Barbara. If I ever play that sort of game on you, I’ll let you know. Where are my swimming trunks?”

Fletch went into the bedroom.

“In the top drawer of the bureau.”

“Good thing we knew there was a swimming pool at the ski lodge. At least we have swimsuits.”

The two pairs of skis stood in a corner of the room. The other side of the window next to them, hibiscus flowered.

“What was I supposed to think when you didn’t show up?”

“That we were caught in a sandstorm near the Ethiopian border. Maybe a swim will help blow the sand out of my sinuses.”

“What’s that?” Wide-eyed, Barbara was staring at Fletch’s lower stomach.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. What is it?”

“A wound, Barbara. A trauma. Vulgarly described as a blow below the belt.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Where did that come from?”

“You belted me.”

“I did not.”

“No one else did. Ever.”

“Not like that.”

“Like that.”

“I never did.”

“Oh, stow it. You coming back to the pool for a swim?”

“I’ll take a shower.”

“Okay. I’ll go for a swim. Then play in the sandbox for a while.” Fletch sneezed. “When I come back, we can think about what we do next.”

“If you don’t make it,” Barbara said, “telephone.”