Drew's Story
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter 8
A few weeks later Tor and I are relaxing on the deck with a cold one when we hear a yell from the foot of the pier and see somebody running toward us.
"Torrence, you did it."
Tor and I spring up. "Dr. Langford! What are you doing here?"
He jumps aboard and holds out a mailing box. "Unless I miss my guess, it's your galley proofs. Well, just don't stand there, open it. I want to see it so bad I almost opened it when it came to the office."
Tor rips open the box. There's a paper-covered book and another box. We crowd around as Tor flips the pages.
"Where're the photographs?" Tor yells, pointing to a blank page with only a number and the description I typed in on it.
"They're in the box," Langford says. "They don't bind them in with a proof. Let's go inside so I can see them. I know your work's going to be superb, Drew."
I spread out the photos on the table, and Tor swings the flex-arm lamp around switching it on. Immediately I see that one print is missing and another is messed up. When I shake the box the prints were in, a note falls out regretting the missing shot and asking for a replacement negative for it.
"Tor, what's number eighteen supposed to be?"
He consults the contents and finds the insert page. "Milfoil. Why?"
"They screwed up the negative so I've got to make the shot over. I'm glad it's the easiest one." Then it hits me. "Aw, shit. We're going to have to go out to get another sample and set up the tank again."
"Why don't you do it at the institute? They're sure to be setting up the aquaria about now, so Curtis may let you set one up to suit yourselves. I don't mind asking him for you." Langford offers.
"That would save a lot of time and I can't get what I want from the sound this time of year."
Langford spends so much time looking at my photos I think Tor's beginning to be a bit jealous. "Really, Drew, some of these belong in a reference work, not this sort of thing."
"Tor says I need a lot better than that."
"Nonsense. This is better work than's in half the texts I use. Seriously, you and Tor should work on one. You're perfectly capable of writing scholarly text, Torrence, your dissertation proves that. With a little expansion and Drew's photographs, especially more of the type he did with Joynes last Thanksgiving, the university's publishing division will be delighted to have it. They're interested in publishing your dissertation anyway, so I know they'd welcome it as a complete work."
"How'd they get it?"
"I sent it over with a recommendation and Drew's photo that you gave me. The addition of photomicrographs will improve it tremendously. I can arrange for Drew to work at the institute where he'll have everything he'll need. You, too, if you run into something too large for your lab."
"We'll think it over," Tor answers.
"What's to think about? Most of your written work is done. It won't be half the work you've both put into this, except for Drew since he'll be doing photomicrographs."
"That's just it. Photomicrographs are a lot harder than working underwater or with a tank like we did for this. He doesn't have the equipment, either."
"If you'll do this, Drew, you can have access to anything you need at the institute and I'm sure I can get Joynes to agree to let your photographic work stand as a substitute for a dissertation. You've completed over half your work toward a doctorate and this would take a lot of the pressure off. Joynes is already over the moon because you're the first student that's ever gone for a PhD in his field."
"I want Drew to get his degree, but we've got to get this done before we take on anything else."
Langford gives in, growling about Tor wasting his time and intelligence, but when Tor mentions dinner Langford tells us to dress up and he'll take us out.
Tor and I are blown away when the waiter brings a bottle of champagne to our table and pops the cork. People stare when Langford stands and makes a toast to the success of our book. Tor turns red and I giggle like an idiot, embarrassed at being in a large restaurant and having attention called to us after we've played it so close to the chest, not to mention Langford having been our teacher.
As it's summer, I know there's not a room to be had on the beach, so I ask Langford to stay the night with us. I make up the single bunk for him.
"You're kind to give up your bed, Drew. Are you sure it won't inconvenience you to sleep with Tor?"
"No way. We're happy to have you, especially after all you've done for us."
After breakfast the next morning, Langford hustles us over to the institute. He's brought along three or four of my shots he wants Curtis to see.
He walks into Curtis' office. "Dave, you bastard, how are you?"
"Tom! What brings you down here? I know we don't have a damn thing you want."
"Not one! But I've got a couple of fellows here could use some help." He introduces us and hands Curtis the prints.
Curtis admits the shots are excellent, but he doesn't seem impressed until Langford points to a framed photo behind Curtis' desk. "I see you liked Drew's photo so much you had it framed."
Curtis narrows his eyes. "Which photo?"
"The one I sent you, you idiot."
Curtis does a double take. "Torrence! Why the hell didn't you say so?"
"I did. You weren't listening, as usual."
"Hell, I thought you were trying to pull another fast one like you did sending that imbecile Toliver back down here."
"I figured you could find some crates for him to open. I didn't want him underfoot all summer."
"He's hopeless."
"Pays you back for some of the things you've pulled on me. Seriously, if you haven't got all the tanks set up, Drew needs a set-up with milfoil for a photograph. Can you help?"
"Sure." He looks at me. "We spent last year getting the teaching section in operation. Now, we're working on the area for casual visitors. Only one of the small tanks is set up at the moment, so you can have your choice of the other three. What do you have in mind?"
I lay out my requirements while he checks against a proposal. "It's just about what we had planned, though a few of your ideas are better. You can set it up and leave it permanently. I'd suggest tank four because it's the end one and easy access. I can let you have some help if you'd like."
By the time Langford has argued Curtis into letting us have free access to the labs and equipment, we're all on a first name basis. We have Langford to thank for all this, but his price is the new book.
Curtis pins us down. "You think you guys can use Toliver to set up the tank the way you want?"
"It's about the only thing he can do right," Langford adds.
"We can do it ourselves, unless you want him to get the experience," I say.
"Let him do it. Good Lord, let him stay busy at the one thing he can do. It'll keep him out of my hair for a day or two, at least."
While Curtis is calling him on the intercom, Langford says, "It's only fair to tell you that Dave and I think he's queer. Will you mind working with him?"
The horrible thought hits Tor and me at the same time. I glance at him and look quickly back at Langford. I know if Tor and I look at each other again we'll bust out laughing. "I think we've met him," I explain, "and, no, it won't make any difference to us if he wants to work with us."
"He doesn't have a choice, you do," Curtis snaps. "But if Tom says he can set up a tank, he can. The one he's just finished is good, I have to admit."
There's a knock at the door and Tor and I move back so we can't be seen unless he turns around. Sure enough, it's the queen.
"Dr. Langford, what a surprise."
"Hello, Toliver," he says, but doesn't take his outstretched hand.
"What pretty pictures," Toliver says, looking at my shots still spread on Curtis' desk.
"They're not pretty pictures," Curtis snaps. "They're damn fine work. The man that made them needs a tank set up for some shots for a book he and his brother have written. Do you think you can follow his instructions without screwing up?"
"Oh, yes, sir. It will be an honor."
"I hope so," Curtis says dryly and points to us. "This is Dr. Torrence and Mr. Torrence, who you'll be working for."
Toliver goes pale then dashes for the can. With the door open a crack, we can hear him peeing.
"Wonder what set him off?" Curtis growls.
"He has problems," Langford adds.
"You're telling us," Tor gets in between guffaws.
"Did I miss something?" Curtis asks me.
I shake my head, still snickering to much to speak.
When Toliver comes back, he takes us in standing there together and says without thinking, "I . . . I thought you were married."
"Good God!" Curtis screams. "How much of an ass can you be? I ought to throw you out of here right now."
Langford shakes his head. "Toliver, you're the biggest damn fool I ever saw. Dave and I thought you were queer, now we know it. Don't measure everyone by your own perverted standard."
Curtis shakes his head at Tor and me. "I hate to do this to you, but this is the only help I can offer. Everybody else is busy trying to get this place functional. Do you think you can stand it?"
"Sir, I can't . . . "
"Shut up, Toliver," Curtis roars and gives him a look that would have instantly sublimated ice. "If you want to stay in school, you'll do as you're told. Working with the Torrences is going to be wasted on you, I know, but you might accidentally learn something."
"That's okay," Tor says with a grin. "*Can we have your permission to kick her ass once in a while, just for drill?"
Toliver lets out a little shriek and runs for the can again. This time, Curtis laughs, too.
Langford lets us off at the marina and heads back home.
Tor and I come in a few days later to set up the tank. We can guess that Curtis has talked to Toliver, because it's Dr. Torrence this and Mr. Torrence that with no foolishness. Langford's right. He has the tank set up in less than half the time it would have taken us.
When I come in Monday morning to check on how the tank's stabilizing, I haven't got the words to explain how I feel when I see everything that was so beautifully done is utter ruin. The milfoil has become brown slime on the sand and the only thing left alive in the tank is a catfish, and even he's not too lively. I'm so shocked I can't move. I just scream, "Toliver!"
He comes at a run, looking scared to death. He nearly faints when he looks at the tank. I keep looking at him for an explanation; he keeps staring at the mess.
"Well?"
He must figure this is it, because he's on the verge of tears when he finally looks at me. "I don't know, sir. It was perfect when I left Friday night."
I have a sudden premonition. Taking a sample of the water to the lab, I run a quick test. Salt!
"Toliver, did you put any saline in that tank?"
"No, I swear. Oh . . . "
"Somebody did."
"I told Gary to put two scoops in tank one. I'll bet he put them in this one instead. They aren't numbered on the back panels, yet."
I can't blame him for something he didn't do, the way Tor blamed me last year because of him.
"Please don't tell Dr. Curtis," he begs. "I'll clean the tank right now and set it up again. We've got enough materials, so it won't take that long. Please, Mr. Torrence."
"Make sure you scrub that tank down good and disinfect it. I want an exact duplicate when you set it back up."
I give him a couple of days before I go back to check. The tank isn't set up as I'd asked, it's better, particularly for the photograph I want to make. Toliver beams when I sincerely compliment him on it. The next day Tor comes with me and we start work in earnest. There are enough lights over the tanks for the tourists to take pictures, but they're nothing for my work. I keep Tor and Toliver busy shifting my photofloods until I'm happy. I have Tor mark the positions and we leave it at that until the tank settles down. Most people would say it's clear now, but I've learned the hard way that the camera sees things the eye doesn't.
The morning I shoot a roll of film and am about to go to the darkroom to develop it, I can see Toliver dying to ask a question.
"What is it, Toliver?"
"I . . . could I watch you develop the film?"
"You think I trust you in there with him?" Tor snaps.
Toliver turns brick red. "I wouldn't . . . " He takes off for the can.
I'm beginning to feel sorry for him. "He's worked hard to get things right for me, Tor, and we've had our fun off him. I don't mind him watching if you don't."
"Let him watch, then. I'm going to watch, too."
One of the technicians sets up the equipment for me, so after I load the film into the processor, it's all up to the machine. I turn the lights back on.
Tor looks disgusted. "I thought you had to do something."
"I do at home, but this is automatic. Once the developing is done, I'll work the prints by hand."
After a look at the negatives, I run test prints and decide machines are okay, but I can do better without gadgets, no matter how much they cost. Since this isn't a critical shot, I choose one and, after Toliver places the lights, make the color negative for the book. This one I'll send to a professional lab with instructions.
On the way home, I tell Tor, "Toliver isn't that bad. That tank was good work."
"Yeah, but damn I hate a queen. I'm glad we're normal."
It takes us two weeks to get the galley proof corrected and the shots ready to return. Since we've decided to go ahead with the expansion of Tor's dissertation into the book Langford wants, Curtis invites us to tie up our houseboat across the dock from the research vessel. Instead of paying rent and utilities, Tor has agreed to give some lectures to groups of students coming in from the university. He even lets me have the phone connected to the institute's switchboard because of the book and the work we'll be doing. I'd tried a few times to get him to let me buy a cell phone, but he always refused when I mentioned it. His argument is that a phone should be for our convenience alone. He sees it as just another intrusion into his privacy.
Not being used to having a phone, I jump when it rings. It's Curtis asking me to come up to his office, which is odd because he never bothers us unless it's important. Curtis passes me in the hall and tells me there's someone in his office to see me.
Toliver is sitting in front of Curtis' desk when I open the door. He jumps up, but says nothing until I've shut the door and stretched out in Curtis' chair.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Torrence, but I wanted to thank you before I left."
"For what?"
"If it hadn't been for what you said to Dr. Curtis and Dr. Langford about my help with the tank, they'd have thrown me out of school. And I've got to thank you for . . . " he blushes, "not holding what happened last year against me. I thought you were in high school."
"Can I talk straight to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You made a serious mistake by trying to cruise me. If you hadn't pissed your pants, Tor would have killed you. Neither of us cares whether you're gay or not, but if you don't control yourself you may not live long enough to finish college. There're some damn rough characters out there. I know, because one cost me a leg. There's a gay lib group on campus with a good counselor. Join it and ask them to help you.
"Second, I got my degree before you ever got to college, so don't assume someone is a kid just because he looks it. Go back, get help, and specialize in what you can do best."
"But Dr. Langford's got it in for me."
"If you control yourself and do what you're told, you'll find he doesn't hold grudges. Okay?"
"Thanks, Mr. Torrence." He starts to hold out his hand but changes his mind, so I hold out mine. "Good luck, Toliver."
When he's gone, I feel funny about him calling me sir and Mr. Torrence. It's the first time anyone has thought of me as an adult.
With the book out of the way, Tor can't stand the inactivity, so he's laid out the research we need to gather to expand his dissertation. We spend the next week running in and out of the creeks and rivers that feed the upper sound in this complex of waters searching for samples of a couple of dinoflagellates he used as a base for his dissertation. Goniaulux polyhedra and Gymnodium breve are thought to be responsible for the 'red tides' that afflict this region. When they 'bloom' in quantity they suck the oxygen from the water; that kills the fish and other aquatic life. There are times during the 'bloom' that the surface of the water is so covered with dead fish it looks almost solid enough to walk on. It's a little late in the year for our search, but we have hopes of bagging enough samples of each to throw in the tank to provide small samples for studying the effects of various chemical compounds on them. Tor is particularly interested in the effect of cobalt on the 'blooming' process.
For me it's going to mean hours of photographing any change that occurs so we can use the pictures as documentation. We know we aren't going to provide a solution to the problem, but every bit of research helps.
At last we find our samples and get them in the tank. They're dormant at this point, but before we can start trying to bring them to an active stage, a phone call from Langford interrupts us. He demands that we come visit them for a couple of days and won't take no for an answer. He hints it's good news and asks if there's anyone we'd like to share it with. We both know it's the book so I ask him to invite Doug and Ted. I give him their phone number which I still remember.
We get to the Langfords' early, but when he won't tell us straight off it's the book, Tor drags me off to the library to check more references.
We're late getting back and run upstairs to change before cocktails. We hear people coming in, but Tor's not to be rushed. All this fuss doesn't please him a bit. His pleasure was in finding a publisher who was enthusiastic about our work.
At the bottom of the stairs, we stop. There are Doug and Ted, Joynes and his wife, Curtis who never said a word to us, and Haley. Ted sees us first. For a moment I'm afraid he'll gush, but he comes across the room and calmly takes my hand. "Andy, it's so good to see you and Greg again."
After we've spoken to everyone, Langford hands us a drink and Haley calls for attention. After a few comments, he hands Tor and me copies of The Dying Sound. We start flipping pages and it's as if I never saw it before. My favorite shot of the sound is on the dust jacket and the illustrations are gorgeous, every color perfect. With everybody having their noses in the book by this time, it's simple for Tor and me to sneak into Langford's study. We're still in a clinch when somebody opens the door. Thank goodness, it's Doug.
"Sorry, but everyone's beginning to wonder where you got to." He gets between us with his arms around our shoulders. "I'm very proud of both of you. Thank you for asking Ted and me to be here."
Fortunately, Haley has brought enough copies, so we autograph them. We owe everyone here something for all they've done for us, but the copy for Ted and Doug is special to me. Tor's already signed it: Thanks for taking care of Drew and giving him to me. I add: With love to the only parents I have. When I hand it to Ted, he reads what I've written, slips the book to Doug, and runs up the stairs. I can't figure what I've done to upset him, so I follow. I find him in the guest bathroom, crying.
"Did I say something wrong, Ted? If so, I'm sorry."
"Andy, dear, is that what you think of Doug and me?"
"I wouldn't have written it if I didn't."
He hugs me. "You darling. We wanted you with us so much. You don't know how much Doug and I love you."
I give him a long overdue kiss. "Come back to the party."
"Let me wash my face. I didn't want to let loose down there. They don't know, do they?"
"They all think Tor and I are brothers."
Haley takes all of us out to dinner. He says it's on the company, but I figure it's really Tor and me paying. Maybe I'm cynical like Tor says, but you don't get anything for free.
Over coffee, Langford asks us how the new book's going. Haley picks up on it immediately. "What's this about a new book?"
"You wouldn't be interested," Langford tell him. "It's a text and reference work."
"I'm always interested."
"Sorry, but the university has first rights."
He shrugs. "Oh, well, I got the best seller anyway."
Langford and Joynes start in on Tor and me, but Tor hedges. "Drew needs some equipment to work with. Dr. Curtis has been generous with the resources at the institute, but there are a lot of times it would be far easier on Drew if we had the stuff he needs on the boat, because that's where we have the tanks."
"Like what?" Joynes says quickly.
"I could use a scope and a couple of illuminators like those old ones in your lab. I was going to buy my own until I priced them."
"Done!" Joynes gives me a grin. "I'm getting ready to survey a lot of that old stuff. You can have the scope you like so much and the illuminators, too. I'll send them down next week."
"But you can't . . . " Tor starts.
"Shut up, Torrence. I can still pull a few strings. Better Drew has them to use than just letting them go to ruin in some warehouse. Let's say they're on indefinite loan to the institute."
A week later, Tor and I get called to Curtis' office late one afternoon. "It's about time you guys showed up to get this junk out of my way. One of the boys unpacked it by mistake, so I got it together for you."
Joynes has sent the scope, two illuminators with extra bulbs, a box of microscope slides and cover glasses, and some other things I can use. He even sent the adapter for my camera that he should have rightly kept, because it will work on any scope he has in his lab.
"I'm hoping to see some good work, though how you'll get it with this antique, I'll never know." Curtis says.
"It maybe old, but I can beat your fancy stuff with it."
"Only because you're on the other end of it and you've used it so much. Think what you could turn out if you'd learn to use the good equipment we have here."
"I expect I'll still bother you from time to time."
"Anything you want."
On our way out Tor happens to think to check our mailbox. He rips open an envelope from our publisher and hands me a letter saying that sales are already good, but with this reveiw they should really take off. Attached is a review from a trade journal.
The Dying Sound, Greg and Drew Torrence, 260 pgs, il, Vanduin Press, Inc. $40.
Far from being a Gothic thriller as the title suggests, The Dying Sound is a vital portrayal in words and photographs of man's all too disastrous disruption of the course of nature. Were they not so graphically documented, the changes that can occur in one short year would be unbelievable. Nor is this the dull scholarly study it might have been. The text comes thorough with the dramatic skill of a novel and is just as easily read, without compromising scientific accuracy. Were this not enough to justify the price, the generous illustrations are among the finest full-color photography I have seen in any scientific publication.
An acquaintance in the scientific community was so entranced by the superb photographic work that he immediately purchased two copies for himself. There is a permanent place on my bookshelf for this volume.
Only in the background of the authors are we shortchanged. It is frustrating to find negligible information on literate and talented men, yet we are told only that Greg Torrence, PhD, is a marine biologist, while Drew Torrence, BS, is responsible for the superb photographic work. A call to the publisher elicited only that they apparently work free-lance and have some tenuous connection with the Marine Resources Institute of Northport, N.C.
Anyone possessing even the most cursory interest in ecology should have a copy of this definitive work. A must for the reference section of every library, no matter how small.
"Looks good," I tell Tor.
"Yep. Well, back to it."
The new book takes precedence. We can't afford a single slip in something intended as a text, but after we've set the scope up in my darkroom we do go to our favorite restaurant for dinner.
The institute is completely operational at last. As long as the warm weather holds they expect a steady stream of tourists on weekends, along with groups of students coming down from the U for a semester's work. Tor and I shouldn't be bothered because Curtis has made the dock area off limits and limited access to those going out on the research vessel.
Only with the few permanent people do Tor and I have much contact. There's Dr. Curtis, of course, John the lab technician, and Carl who does most of the lectures. They all have families and live in town. There are a couple of guys who take care of the grounds and building and do odd jobs. They're natives of the island and, like all the natives Tor and I have met, they are quiet and do their work without bothering anyone.
Tor and I have become quite fond of Gary. He's always ready to give us a hand. Our boat is tied into the facilities of the institute which saves us a lot of grief, but when the pump that handles the sewage begins to give us trouble, Tor tinkers with it without success. It's a nasty job and Tor's at his boiling point. Gary happens to hear him swearing and tells him to let it go until he gets off work. A little after five, Gary shows up with his toolbox and tackles the job. In an hour the pump is running better than it did new. We can't get Gary to take a penny, but after he cleans up he stays for a beer and dinner with us.
Gary makes one request of Tor that delights him, so if he happens to be lecturing to a group of students, Gary sits in. Gary says he can understand what Tor's talking about, even though he wasn't good in school. He seems to know instinctively much of what Tor's had to work so hard to learn, that's why Tor likes to talk to him so much. Gary tells me he knows if I enter the room, because Tor's eyes light up and he begins to smile. But there's a perceptiveness about Gary that's frightening and he's straightforward with his questions. I almost die one evening when we're having a beer together and he asks, "Ain't you all lovers 'stead of brothers, or are you both?"
Tor looks first at me and then at Gary. At last he answers. "We're lovers. We've been together several years now."
Gary's solemn face breaks into a kind smile. "That's what I figured. Everybody needs somebody to belong to. If that's the way you're happy, then I figure it's right fer you. It wouldn't be fer me, but I don't fault you none fer what gives you happiness."
"You won't say anything about this? Everyone thinks we're brothers." I beg.
Gary looks hurt. "I usually mind my own business and that weren't none of mine. But you always look so happy when you're together I had to ask. It ain't nobody elses business, neither."
His word is all the reassurance we need, and we never see any change in his attitude toward us.
To be continued...
Feedback always
welcome:
Posted: 09/14/07