Free Salty Sky by Seth Coker

before you go—is Ashley back?”
    “How should I know?”
    “Well, if you see her, let her know she is welcome to join the men up top for a cocktail.”
    “Why aren’t I invited if she is? I thought you said it was for old men only.”
    Tony looked at Joe and laughed. “You can figure that one out, Gino.”
    The chiseled face disappeared down the ladder.
    Tony cocked an eye at Joe. “Maybe you do think an old dog can still hunt?”
    Joe grinned. “How long would that square neck have lasted as an apprentice?”
    “Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus, he wouldn’t have made it a day, much less a three-year apprenticeship. A boy that strong and proudwould have broken his thumb with a hammer by 10:00 a.m. If he made it through the morning, can you imagine him going to lunch at the Rolling Pin with the crew? Trying to show he was a bigger man than everybody else and then heading up the scaffolding in the afternoon? He would be dead before the afternoon smoke break.”
    “Pattie might have been able to make a decent guy out of him, though. I’ll never forget my first day with Pattie. His hard hat’s brim an inch from my mouth. Telling me I had no pride because of the way I stacked the two-by-fours off the delivery truck.”
    “I had no pride because my shirt was untucked. ‘You want to be a union man or a day laborer?’ My chin was soaked with his spit. He might have used a few racial epithets to describe me that aren’t so kosher anymore.”
    Joe and Tony knew the stories; they’d been there together. Memories of good times. Pattie was a stand-up guy, had his nail pouch on by seven thirty. The smoke break was at ten, lunch at a quarter to twelve. Back from lunch at twelve thirty, smoke break at three. The nail pouch was off at four thirty. Nobody started late, took different breaks, or left early. Drink at lunch if you want—Pattie did—but you had four hours of sawing and hammering after lunch at the same pace.
    “Pattie was right,” Tony said. “I had no pride. I wasn’t worried about ruining that lumber. Stacking it sloppy on uneven ground. Letting it bow or rot in a puddle. He taught us what pride looked like, huh? No wasted material. Clean cuts. Straight nails. Use a four-inch nail when you need a four-inch nail and a three-inch nail when you need a three-inch nail. You need a galvanized nail, use a galvanized nail. Always sweep jobsite at day’s end.”
    “I’ve never been so proud as when my apprenticeship ended. At the banquet, I wore a tie my mother bought me for the occasion. That was one of the only times I’ve worn a tie since Vatican II. At the bar afterward, when Pattie told half the Chapter I could run a crew on his job anytime but that ‘some of you sorry excuses for foremen need me,’ I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.”
    “Old Pattie was a good egg. Never seen more men laughing at a wake or crying at a funeral. Not many like Pattie.”
    The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Joe wondered whether the sea would lay down tonight. If not, no rush. He’d fly the trainers home if the trip dragged. He finished his highball and swirled the ice counterclockwise. Tony set up the backgammon table. The captain delivered a tray of snacks: pickles, deviled eggs, sardines, and crackers.
    The captain asked, “Joe, would you like to anchor out for the evening, or do you want to head back to the marina? I checked and a slip is available.”
    “Tony, what do you think? Fresh air or fried oysters and the Yanks on the tube at a bar?”
    “I’ll lose more on backgammon than we’ll spend at the bar. Let’s get the oysters. Besides, maybe the bicepsketeers will go out, and we can put some real music on when we come back.”
    “Captain,” Joe said, “we’ll watch the sunset over the marsh from here, then head to the marina.”
    The captain kept up a brief conversation with his employer, then went about rechecking the boat’s equipment. Tony refreshed the highballs while Joe