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 catch up!
PART ONE: Ocean Dreams: Part 1: Heart Ripped Assunder
PART TWO: Ocean Dreams: Part 2: Picking Myself Off The Deck
PART THREE: Ocean Dreams: Part 3: A Mystery To Me
PART FOUR: Ocean Dreams Part 4: Can We Talk?
PART FIVE: Ocean Dreams Part 5: My Own Marina
PART SIX: Ocean Dreams: Part 6: Trust. Respect. Love.
PART SEVEN: Ocean Dreams: Part 7: Kick A Man While Down
From the end of Part 7
My son laughed a little. “I said, she told me, you weren’t my real dad. She said you couldn’t have any more kids after an accident, when my sister was little, so, she went out and got pregnant. She said she told you all about it, and you were fine with it. What kind of man is fine with his wife doing that? Proves to me that you running away, again, you’re a COWARD. Not a real man. Not my father.”
I couldn’t breathe. He kept on, “I met him once, you know. He’s nice…“
I could not understand anything my soon was saying. Not a word. I know he was talking but I couldn’t understand.
Marina found me, sobbing on the floor of the aft salon, sobbing uncontrollably. My phone was on the couch, and I was on the floor. Sobbing still.
Broken. Finally, and Fully.
So.
My son... well, the boy who I spent 25 years thinking was my son, was NOT!
His mom had told him a few years ago, I was not his dad. He’d been told I knew about it. He’d been told I was OK with it.
My best friend, my life partner, my… wife. Fuck That. Fuck Her. My soon to be ex-wife had told our son, that I was a cuckhold, and knew it. That I accepted it. She told him, I had issues, couldn’t have any more kids, and she wanted one, so, she went out and got pregnant. And I was happy to raise someone else’s child as my own. My son told me, I was not a man. I was a coward. I was no father. Not a man, for allowing what he laughingly called my wife, to do “that.”
After being broken by her cheating, this, even more, shattered what little I had left. I fired off a quick text to my daughter:
“Did you know about your brother?”
My entire future depending on the answer. Either I would spend my life without a wife, son and daughter, or I would try and salvage at least one relationship.
I know Marina had found me, crying in a ball on the floor of the boat’s aft salon. I know she held me until I stopped whimpering. I know she gave me a hot drink, though I had no idea if it was coffee, tea, hot chocolate… for all I know it was a mug of hot water.
Looking at her now, I could see she was waiting for me to come back. Finally, aware enough, I knew the worst (why would I even say that???) was passed. Every time I did say that, my mind was shattered, my life broken, and my will sapped away even more.
“What happened?” She asked. “Was it one of the kids?” She waited. “Are they ok?”
It took me forever, before I could really gather my thoughts.
I told her first, about my call with my daughter. It was rough, it was heart wrenching, but there was a way forward. She was miserable I was gone, but over the moon I was ok. Worried sick, and then nothing but relieved I was OK.
I told Marina I had to break my little girl’s heart, and not come home right now. Marina laughed, and said, “You’d be surprised at how strong your girl is.”
She then, asked about my boy. That’s when the bomb hit.
“My… we argued… he and I argued. A lot.” I couldn’t say it.
“And…?” She prompted me.
“And, he was so mad, he lashed out. I hope. He told me, ….” I spent more minutes crying. After nearly draining my body of all fluids over three days or so, throwing up, I was totally dehydrated. Then, spent the next few days crying my ass off. There was no more liquid within a thousand miles of me. And yet, here I was, balling my eyes out again, huge, wracking sobs. Blubbering, and barely mumbling.
“WHAT? What did you just say?” Marina almost screamed! “Did you just… did he say, you’re not really his dad?”
I nodded, and kept up a slow, steady wimper. I was seriously broken. At this point, I was almost catatonic. I sort of lost a bit of time, here. No idea how much, until I felt that pain again.
My face felt it, and it took some time for my brain to register. She’d slapped me. THAT was woke me. Brought me out of my haze.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for almost an hour. You had me really worried. Are you hearing me, now?” I actually did heard her say.
I nodded, then, turned to focus on her face. Face first, then scan around the bridge. Scan the Engine gauges. Scan the radar, scan outside. It becomes a habit. Your body remembers. Muscle memory. Scan, check, scan, check. First, You learning boating. Then, become a mariner. Mariners learn to take care of the boat, first. Without the boat, you have real troubles, so, BOAT FIRST.
No idea what prompted me, but a fog cleared. I looked back at her, smiled, stood up, and said, “Enough of this pity party. I’m making dinner, whaddya want?”
She asked for some fajitas, and I smiled. “Fajitas it is, m’lady.” I turned, and started for the galley. Turned back, put two hand on her shoulders, and said, “Thanks again” Kissed her forehead, and headed below. The look of shock on her face was awesome.
I was cooking, dinner almost ready, when she came down into the salon, she reached for some plates, and silverware, and set our table. She sat, while I plated dinner. We each served ourselves, mostly silence. After dinner, we both stood, and she offered to head up to the bridge, back on watch. I stood too, and put my hands up, stopping her, told her, “No, I got watch, you clean up!” As she turned, I stopped her, hands on shoulders, and kissed her forehead a second time, “thanks again, now, go clean up.”
I could look back, and see wreckage on the rocks. My marriage, my relationship with my son, with so much... OR, I could forward. I smiled, looked ahead, and stepped onto the bridge for my watch...and what lay ahead!
