Cayos in the Stream by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online

“Not much in there to read. But if you weren’t playing boys’ games—if you didn’t think you were playing boys’ games—how come you took Patrick and Gigi along on your stupid patrols?”
    That brings you up short. Your two sons did sail on the Pilar . They had a hell of a time. So did you. But would you have let them come aboard had you known you would find what you were looking for? For you were in danger of your life when you lay alongside the German U-boat. And your boys would have been in danger of theirs.
    “Boys have to turn into men sooner or later,” you say. “The way you turn into a man is to do the things men do.”
    There are also things you do not say. Gigi—born Gregory—can be a little devil when he feels like it. And he feels like it too often to leave you easy in your mind. You sometimes even worry he will wind up a fairy. So anything you can do to help straighten him out, you do. With some coaching from you and some natural talent, he has become quite a skeet shooter, for instance.
    “The way you turn into a dead man is to follow where your father leads when he doesn’t know where the hell he’s going,” Martha says furiously. “You can give me all the garbage about manhood you please. The truth is, you didn’t even think about the chance you were taking.”
    Is that the truth? What is truth, anyway? You laugh at yourself. Pontius Hemingway! What Martha says may be some of the truth. You do not think it is the whole truth.
    Martha cares nothing for what you think. She jumps out of bed and starts throwing on clothes. “What are you doing?” you ask.
    “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving, that’s what.” She snaps snaps and buttons buttons. “When you aren’t here, I miss you. I tell myself you can’t possibly be as big a son of a bitch as you acted like the last time we were together. Then we get together again, and there you are—a revolving son of a bitch, all right.”
    “What’s a revolving son of a bitch?” Like a marlin, you cannot help rising to the bait.
    “Somebody who’s a son of a bitch any way you look at him,” Martha answers with relish. “Somebody like you. You want to break me, the way you break all your women. Only I won’t stick around for it. This was coming, sooner or later. We both know it. It may as well come sooner. It may as well come now.”
    You have walked out on your share of women before. Maybe on more than your share. Wives and others—you are not always fussy. But now a woman is walking out on you. You are not so used to that.
    It makes you mad. It makes you want to haul off and deck her for real. Hitting a woman, though, will get you talked about the wrong way. It is not the kind of thing heroes do. Even if they do not, they sure must be tempted to.
    So you do not slug Martha, not with your fist. You saved that for the Nazi sailor. One hell of an uppercut it was, too. You slug Martha with words instead. “You phony, pretentious bitch!” you say. “You were always in it for what you could get, weren’t you? Your ambition brought you here, and you’re just as ambitious going away. Well, go on, then. If I never see you again, it’ll be too goddam soon.”
    Beneath her tan from the fierce Cuban sun, she goes pale. “I loved you,” she says. “I did. For a little while, I think you tried to live up to what I thought of you. Being a bastard’s easier, though, isn’t it? And I was handy to keep around when you needed someone to copulate on. No more. Not with me. You may be a hero, but you’re still a prick—and a small one, at that. So find somebody else.”
    She strides out of the bedroom. A good thing, too, or you would loosen some teeth for her. The front door slams half a minute later. Hero or not, you are here by yourself—except for the servants, and they do not count.
    For now, you are. But a hero can always find somebody else. Not right now. You are sated right now. But pretty soon. When you feel like it. You