The Ghost of Put-In-Bay by Daryl J. Lukas

Author:Daryl J. Lukas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2021-08-06T17:42:58+00:00

33.

By the time Old Joe had awakened, the clock read 5:32 and he thought, “Is it morning or afternoon?” As it turned out, it was still afternoon, but he had been asleep for some four hours and had changed his routine for the day. So at first he thought, “I’ll take a quick shower and head on over to The Roundhouse.” But then he thought, “Nah, I’ll sleep a little more and then go down to The Boathouse and see Sarita.”

However, he was still very tired and just didn’t feel right and thought, “Screw it – I’ll just pick-up a six-pack and stay in tonight and watch a game.” So then, after staying in bed for a few more hours, he got up, splashed some cold water on his face, and headed out the door. He walked over to the carry-out which was less than a block away and picked up a six-pack of Coors Light bottles. Then he put those back and decided to get a twelve-pack instead.

And while he was waiting to check out, he noticed a DVD of the movie “Casablanca” on one of those little round carousels standing next to the counter – and affixed to the wrapper was an orange sticker. “Who in the hell marks down Casablanca?” he thought, and maybe for that reason alone he bought it – along with the beer.

The TV in his room had one of those built-in DVD players with a slot on the side through which to slide the disc, but Old Joe had never used one before and he was hoping that he would be able to get it to work as he was walking back to the motel.

He opened a beer and put the rest in the fridge then sat down on his bed to watch this all-time classic. He remembered when he was twelve and was viewing it for the first time and how he couldn’t believe that Rick was letting Ilsa walk away. And yet, with each excruciating step through that moonlit fog, as if it were some kind of arbitrary measure between right and wrong, their distance grew until finally – she was gone.

And years later, while watching it again, as Rick’s pistol was pointing straight at the heart of Major Strasser, with his same stony-faced determination that Old Joe had always admired, he realized that he was older than Bogart had been and wondered how that was possible.

Then tonight, while sitting on his bed in that motel room, Old Joe found it rather hard to believe that he was once more following that winding arrow on that marvelous map, through Europe and Africa and to a place called Casablanca, just so he could view the world again in black and white.

He didn’t go out that night.

And he never did turn on the game.

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