Endless Blue Seas

by Annie Dyer

  “Fish and chips by the sea?”

  “Damn right.”

  We stood watching the waves break against the rocks, the sun dimming in front of us, eating from hygienically prepared mock newspaper which contained greasy chips and perfectly battered fish, smothered in curry sauce.

  Gabe stood next to me, his eyes alternating between watching me and the scene in front of us, a wooden boat being tossed on the waves, gulls floating above us and the sky fractured with shades of red and orange. I knew he was planning a painting, I could tell by the expression on his face. I also knew there would be a good chance I’d be in it.

  He’d been drawing me more, now open about it after he’d shown me the paintings I was in weeks ago. Two of the ones he’d done since had been sold, which I found a little strange, but he’d kept the one of me on the beach, the second time he’d seen me.

  “I’ve changed the design of the master bedroom.” He scrunched up the paper, his dinner demolished. “I like sleeping up another level, so I’m creating a mezzanine.”

  “What about the window?” His plan was complex and technical, involving getting in as much natural light as possible and creating space. He was excited about it, the moments when he became guilt-ridden fewer.

  “I’m still having the window. I spoke to a friend who’s a structural engineer and he’s agreed it can work. And I’ve added an ensuite onto that room too. I think the plan’s finally complete.”

  “You’re happy with it?”

  He nodded, looking out to sea. “I think it has everything.”

  “What changed your mind about the ensuite?”

  I’d suggested it. He’d not been happy with the idea.

  “You.”

  I laughed, mainly to cover my surprise and uncertainty as to what to say. “Me?”

  He nodded. “I know how much you hate the walk to the bathroom after we’ve fucked.”

  His choice of words surprised me. We passed the fucking stage, kind of. We still went for it hard sometimes, especially if one of us was trying to flee from the grief demons that still lingered, but there were more of the times when sex was slow and deep and reached parts of me that hadn’t existed before. Nights when I didn’t know where I ended and he began were frequent and I was too used to having him in a bed, mine or his, or sometimes in a quiet corner of the beach. It didn’t matter.

  “It’s just such a long way when you have semen trailing out of you.”

  He choked back a laugh.

  “It’s true. And cleaning up is important. UTI’s are nasty mother-fuckers.”

  “Hence there will be an ensuite.”

  “For all your future girlfriends?” The words were out there before I’d had chance to think.

  He fell quiet, his eyes focused on the gulls above us, the ones that never quietened even when darkness had blanketed the island.

  “No. My days of sleeping round have gone. I know you’re heading back to London, but I’ve really enjoyed this summer. Our relationship.”

  Relationship. Because it was. “We’re not just fucking, are we?”

  “No. Although I’m good to fuck your brains out tonight. While we have the chance. We should make the most of it.”

  “You’re right. We should.”

  We headed back to the barn, the construction work now well under way and making good progress. The barn was the same as it had been the first night I’d gone there, paintings lined the walls that led to the mezzanine floor where the mattress was. It smelled of paints and fresh air and the summer.

  I would miss this.

  I would miss Gabe.

  I kissed him after he’d dimmed the lights, tasting him, needing that closeness. His hands roamed, fingers flicking over skin that had been reignited by him. He knew where I liked and how and what, he would take me to the edge and never let me fall.

  His muscles tensed as I ran my hands over his skin, pressing and touching, trying to memorise every inch of the body that hadn’t been my sticking plaster. He’d been my life saver, bobbing besides me in the sea, there when I needed but letting me believe that I could handle the current myself.

  We lay in the bed, facing each other, hands eating up each other lazily. This was a banquet that we couldn’t rush, because time was now limited. We had an end date and it was now on the horizon.

  He cupped my breast and dipped his head to take my nipple in his mouth. I fell to my back, allowing him access, our clothes already lost to the floor below us. His fingers sought the space between my legs, delving into my tight heat, fingering me hard, demanding. He wanted to make me come before he got inside me, as he sometimes did. These were the nights when he considered three orgasms for me as too few and my body would sing for the following day.

  I came quick and hard, bucking against his hand, his mouth still full of my nipple. He didn’t let up, shifting his attention to my clit, bringing me back from a simmer to a full on boil.

  “I want you to remember who made you come like this. Who fucked you so you didn’t know your own name. I want you to think of my dick inside you when you’re lying on your own in bed and I want,” he paused, still his actions and his words, “you to remember how you came for me tonight. How you were mine.”

  He pressed down hard and I spasmed around him, shouting his name, my hands in his hair, grasping as if he was the only thing keeping me afloat.

  I broke apart again, barely aware of him pushing apart my legs, spreading me wide. He pushed into me with controlled force, all the way in in one go, filling me completely.

  “Gabe.” His name was a prayer.

  He started to move, controlled thrusts, his eyes on me. He was fucking me like he owned me, his expression full of ownership and lust. And tenderness.

  I didn’t think of the months ahead when I’d be sleeping alone or the days when I wouldn’t have his words and touches to make the world right again, because right now they couldn’t exist.

  He possessed me and I gave myself to him. At that moment, underneath the wooden roof of a dilapidated barn, I found my lighthouse.

  But lighthouses were always surrounded by rocks. And treacherous seas.

  Gabe

  “You’re in love with her.”

  There were times when I wished my sister had a different job. Something technical, or in engineering. Something that made sure she had no ability to read other people or get inside their minds. Something that made my life a little easier.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because.”

  “I’m not sure that’s an answer.” I lined up a nail and began to hammer. Janie took a step away, not liking the noise. Loud noises always had her moving away and I hoped that would be the result now.

  “The way you are around her. The way you look at each other. Have you asked her to move back here?”

  “No.”

  “No you haven’t or no you’re not in love with her?”

  I gave the nail one last battering and dropped the hammer to my side. “I haven’t asked her. She has got to go back to work her notice. She’s looking for a change of job for after Christmas and she may consider moving back to this area.”

  “So you admit you’re in love with her?”

  I groaned. “Janie. I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling love or being in love with anyone. I know she makes me feel better. She gets what happened with Ryan and the times when I can’t speak about anything. She knows what to say to make it feel light again.”

  Janie didn’t say anything which surprised me. She looked at the bookcase I was making, mainly because I could and I needed something to do, given that I’d been pretty much banned by the foreman of the site which was my house.

  “You’re building this house for her?”

  I froze and looked at her, wondering if my sister really had lost the plot. “No. I’m putting in some ideas of hers because they’re good ones. Just like I’m incorporating things that Ryan would’ve thought of.”

  She shook her head. “I’
m worried.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the state you’ll be in when she goes back to London. And if she stays there. I’m worried you’ll go through grief all over again because she’s been your life buoy since you met her.”

  “I’d have got to this point on my own.” I knew that was true. The island had soothed me, the constancy of life here had given me the rhythm and stability I’d needed since Ryan had died. But Anya had been something else.

  “Maybe. But I worry that you’ve transferred some of your love for Ryan on to her.”

  The idea both irritated and scared me. “I didn’t fuck Ryan into multiple orgasms.” I hoped my crudity would end the conversation but this was Janie.

  “That wasn’t the point. You need to be in this good place because you think you deserve to be there, not because a certain person gets those endorphins going. Don’t get me wrong, Gabe, I love seeing you with her. In fact, I’ve never seen you like this with another person, but I worry that when she goes back to London you’re going to start to grieve again.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t go back to being in pieces, Janes. Maybe I am in love with her, I don’t know, but she’s always been going back to where she lives in September.”

  “You think you might have a chance of something in the future?”

  It was something we’d half discussed, usually after we were both spent and curled up in bed, her in my arms where I wanted to tell her she belonged. I wanted her to stay, but I also didn’t because anything longer than the summer and we’d be in danger of a relationship that came with rules and expectations, rather than the free and easiness of a summer romance like two teenagers would’ve pursued.

  “I don’t have a crystal ball. If she moves back here, then I suppose there’s a chance. But we’ll have to see.”

  My sister shrugged. “Don’t let her be your life buoy. Be your own float, Gabe. That’s all I ask.”

  She turned and walked away, leaving me to hammer in more nails to a piece of furniture that would potentially outlive whatever it was I had with Anya.

  I spoke to the contractors about the plans, the couple of last minute changes I was making and how I needed them to be carried out. Ryan had been more of an expert at new builds than me, and I’d done what I could to channel him, trying to meld my interest in environmental with his in restoration. I felt I’d done him justice so far with the designs. Similarly with the properties I’d looked at on the island; I thought of what he would’ve done, how he would’ve argued for the energy saving features and weaving with the landscape.

  I was knee deep in unloading bricks when a familiar banger of a car pulled up. Catrin had been away for pretty much the whole of the last four weeks, having headed out further into the sea than normal on some form of expedition to study some sea creature I’d never heard of and still suspected was a myth.

  She’d scared me at first, being a small dynamite packed imp of a thing who should only be allowed in society when everyone had signed a disclaimer around their eardrums being broken.

  “I come bearing news.” She didn’t have to shout it. The wind bowed down to her power and dropped its noisy breeze so she could be heard easily.

  “Good or bad?”

  “Good for all parties concerned. Kim’s finally having the baby.”

  I grinned. I’d gotten to know Kim fairly well in the last few weeks, although she’d been permanently grouchy and sarcastic. And very very big. “That’s good. Has Anya got Harry?”

  Catrin nodded. “She’s taking him down to the foodie festival later for tea. Thought I’d come and check up on how you’re treating my friend.” She put her hands on her hips and tried to look menacing.

  It was a bit like a pug attempting to out-sass a heavyweight boxer on weigh-in.

  “I hope I’m treating her well. Did you ladies of the island decide today was the day to interrogate me?”

  “Why? Who else has been down here?” She looked around, as if expecting someone to materialise from a pile of rubble.

  “My sister. She… never mind.”

  Catrin eyed me as if I was a piece of meat that was more than a bit contaminated. She inched closer.

  “Gabe, I like you. I liked you before you made Anya’s summer. I like you more now because she’s smiling and when I saw her six months ago she wasn’t smiling and I wasn’t sure if she’d smile again. But she has been.”

  “Good. I’ll aim to keep her smiling.”

  “Good. Then I won’t have to murder you and feed you to the fish.”

  I laughed and thought of Julia, the woman Anya’s aunt had become intertwined with. Anya had been reading Marcy’s notebook to me some evenings, when we were grabbing something to eat before I made sure she burned the calories and more in my bed, or wherever else we ended up.

  We’d talked about the island afterwards, how Marcy must’ve felt about Don, although she wasn’t explicit about what she thought of him. We talked about how it should’ve been a summer romance and then about ours.

  But it didn’t feel like that anymore.

  I knew she was going back to her flat in London, to her job and the life she had there and Janie was right; when she left I’d be grieving again.

  “I don’t want her to go back.” It was the first time I’d said the words, admitted to anyone that this was more than than just sex and a few laughs. Telling Catrin wasn’t the wisest move, as I was pretty sure it would get back to Anya. But maybe that was the reason for telling her.

  “Neither do I. Neither does anyone. Are you going to let her know how you feel?”

  I shook my head. “That wouldn’t be fair. And we’ve known each other just a couple of months. Possibly neither of us are in the right place to be able to make life-changing decisions at the moment either.”

  “I’m not sure anyone is ever in the right place to make a life-changing decision.” Catrin looked at me as if she was studying some new species. “You should tell her that you want it to be more than just a summer, Gabe. Not to make her stay, but there’s no reason why you can’t carry something on long distance.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. There’s a problem there though.”

  “She’d have to do the travelling?”

  I laughed, irony laughed within it. “Yeah. I need to get over this thing with cars.”

  Catrin nodded. “It’s understandable. But it’s going to hinder you. You know that. But only you can make that choice.” She started to back away. “Think about it. I’ve been watching the two of you together all summer and you’re more than just a shag on the sand.”

  “What about you and Anders? Are you more than that too?”

  Her face lit up. “So much more. Not that I’ll admit it, but I’m planning on keeping him around.” She blew me a kiss and headed off, leaving me listening to the thud of hammers and the bang of construction.

  And then the beat of my own heart.

  I headed down to the beach after the builders had mostly packed up for the day. The cost of the building was going to be huge, but justifying it hadn’t been a problem. I needed a base, whether that was somewhere to paint or potentially an office on the island from where I could work, if I decided to carry out small building projects.

  The island was growing in terms of its demands. People were moving here after retirement and wanted properties that suited their needs and maintained the standards they were used to back on the mainland. My own project had received several visitors each week, people who were coming to look at the house and what I was doing with it; some were just nosy, others were keen to ask questions and talk about their own properties, ask questions about extensions and even rebuilds.

  The beach was busy with tourists and locals alike, the food festival drawing most people away from the bars and restaurants and their caravans and lodges. Kids were playing on the beach away from the stalls and I could see Harry and my nephews kicking about a ball. Janie and Anya were watching them, and I felt a glow as I heard both of them laughing as I ap
proached.

  I sat down next to Anya, kicking the ball back to Harry just before my backside met the sand. My arm went around her shoulder and she leaned into me, her head resting against my arm. This felt right. More right than I’d had for so long. For the first time in what felt like forever I was certain that Ryan would approve of what I was doing. We’d joked about being bachelors for life, eventually becoming two old gits, lonely and overweight in to a bar without a woman interested in us, but neither of us had wanted that. He’d have liked Anya. Not in the same way I did – I’d have sorted him out if he had.

  “How’s your day been?” Anya turned and looked at me when Janie got up to see to one of the kids who was getting cross at the other two.

  “Good. Catrin stopped by.”

  “To impart her words of wisdom or to ask about her house and an extension?”

  I frowned. “She didn’t mention an extension. She did warn me not to hurt you.”

  There was a sweet laugh that broke over the sounds of the waves and the crowd. “She forgets we’re not fifteen anymore.”

  I nuzzled her hair. “She’s just being a good friend. How was your day? I believe you’re an auntie again.”

  “I am. And I have a slightly less cranky sister. And a niece. Marcy. She’s doing well. I took Harry to see them before.” She giggled. “He took one look at her and said ‘we’re not keeping her, are we? She is going back?’”

  I laughed. I was younger than Janie so I’d never been usurped by a younger sibling, but I understood where he was coming from. “Has he gotten over it yet?”

  She shook her head. “I think he’s forgotten about it, or he’s trying to forget about it. It’ll be a few more days before reality hits anyway and in the meantime he’s being spoilt. So what else did Cat have to say?”

  Harry was with Janie and the boys, kicking ball about a little closer to the sea where the sand was flat and firm. The noise from the festival had dimmed, or I had become used to it, and the atmosphere was the same it had been all summer. Telling her about the conversation I’d had with her friend would open up a bigger discussion, one with the potential for everything to unravel.