FAIR WARNING THIS IS FICTION, and ADULT Themed. NAUGHTY WORDS AHEAD. NOT my usual garden stuff. Nor photography. ADULT fiction.
PLEASE take a moment and read, PART ONE: Ocean Dreams: Part 1: Heart Ripped Assunder
Or, PART TWO: Ocean Dreams: Part 2: Picking Myself Off The Deck
Breathe.
Just, breathe.
I looked again, at Waif. This kid? Was she, really?
Waif. That’s who I knew her as. I’d only really knew her name as Susan for less than a day. Yet, here we were in the dock offices of a Marina, south of New York City, and she hugged the owners, like long lost sorority sisters, and they’d been laughing and playing that age ole’ game of, “whatever happened to… so and so?” For close to an hour. I smiled, shook hands at appropriate times and say back and watched Waif and her two friends. Marina-owning friends. We had unlimited dock privileges, no charge...as long as we wanted.
I need about a week I think, to get the boat provisioned. And do some long overdue maintenance, plus be able to send for some NEW credit cards, and yes, move some finances around.
I figure I had about a day, MAYBE two if I am lucky, before my secret is up:
I know my wife if a lying, cheating whore. Once I moved my half of our savings, my three or four day disappearing act was all over. My wife, and my kids would KNOW immediately, I am alive, and KNOW something.
Speaking of my kids, once I finish my online moves, I need to get a message out, FAST to let them know, I love them, and I am not going to put up with what my wife has done.
I also know, I need to stop thinking and saying, “my wife.” Fuck That. Fuck Her.
“Helllooooo?”
I have no idea how long the three women were staring at me, but clearly someone asked me something, and I had no idea, who, or what was said.
“I said, Blue, do you need to order any ship’s stores, or parts?” Waif asked me, again. Blue? Who’s blue? Me? Oh, uhm… maybe she doesn’t really know my name, either.
“Oh, well, I will, I need a couple days for a replacement card to arrive from my bank. My credit card is messed up.” I kinda smiled at the three ladies.
“Nonsense, give me a list, I’ll get the parts together, and get them to your boat. We’ll settle up when you shove off. OK?” The taller of the two women told me. I was still not all there. I did my best to protest, and then, nodded. My dad and grandfather both taught me one lesson I haven’t forgotten. When in doubt, agree, and then smile.
I know Waif, uhm, Susan, introduced them to me, I was still not paying attention. I’m no doc, but, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess, total and complete shock, followed by three days of passed out drunken stupor, at least as many days lacking legit sleep, and a serious case of dehydration? Yeah, I guess I can forgive myself for being a bit out of it.
Walking back to the boat, I finally had the sense to ask, “I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot going on, but, what were their names again?”
Waif stopped walking, and I promptly walked right into her. Nearly knocking her over, and only by wrapping my arms arounds her, did I keep her upright, and not dumped into the water.
Next thing I knew, my face hurt, I was lying on my back, sucking in air for all my worth, and looking up at Waif. A half second later, I heard the loudest groan ever. It took me a moment before I understood the moan was coming from me. My hands instinctively grabbed my own crotch, as the worst ever intense pain hit me. I was doubled over, sucking in air, and moaning.
It took me a minute, maybe more, before I could breathe normally. Maybe 5 before I could sit. I was looking at waif, in shock. She broke down into tears and sank before me. All the pain I was in, and all I kept doing was apologizing. To her. She had slapped my face HARD and instinctively kneed me. So, I apologized. Again.
“What a pair we make…” I croaked out.
Maybe half an hour later, each of us, sitting in different parts of the boat, were beginning to calm down. That visceral pain takes a bit to calm. In my case, it served to help my focus, and once Starlink was working correctly on the boat, I set about making my financial moves. That done, I set off getting my email message to my kids. My son, first, he was easiest. Ironically, easiest, because, he was always aloof, and his mother’s son. Not a momma’s boy, but, clearly, his mother’s son, if you follow.
As clearly as I could, I laid out my email. I loved him. His mother loved him. But his mom and I have hit a very difficult roadblock, and I told him, I am not sure there is a good way forward without a big change coming. I was trying to break it to him, slowly, that I simply could not live my life, married to his mom… without actually saying it, in this first message. I didn’t know it then, but I needn’t have worried all that much.
His sister? My daughter? Well. This email was going to be harder. Much. She was my oldest. Since that first day, that first moment I held her, she owned my heart. More than anything I never wanted to disappoint her.
How do you write a note, telling someone that you are about to destroy their family? That you are going to rip it apart?
Hardest email I ever sent.
After that, I set about taking stock. Opening every cabinet, drawer, and compartment for food, dry goods, and supplies. Making lists. A half hour of that, later I had a decent start of a shopping list.
Next came some basic stock of parts and supplies for the boat. Much of it, any decent marina couple handle on site. And looking at this marina, I could tell, they had it to spare. More than half these boats were not. Not boats, but Superyachts and Megayachts. My Nordhavn 475 is nothing to sneeze at but some of these neighboring yachts were 100 meters, 125 meters. That’s almost 10 times my boat length!
I didn’t have much the boat itself needed. I’d do an oil change, and replenish that. Change fuel, and air filters, too. On the mains, the get home, and the two Generators. Replenish those filters, too. That was an hour, maybe 90 minutes of easy thinking. Time for a long overdue real talk.
OK, mindless stuff done, I turned from the engine room and lazarette, and made my way to the pilot house. I raised my hand up thru the steps, and waved a white towel. I poked my head up, made eye contact with waif and said, “Can we talk?”
