by Tilty Edin
His hand searched in his pocket for her number she gave him, then picked up the phone resting on the desk above him and dialed it, just as he promised.
"Hello?" Leanne's voice answered softly after a few rings.
"Hope I didn't wake you" he replied. "I've been at work. I had to stay tonight, but I thought I'd ring."
There was a small, lingering pause.
"It's a little late," Leanne said finally.
"I know."
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Glad to hear from you."
He sighed. "Me too, but, I can't lie to you," he said. "I called to tell you I don't think we should see each other, or, anything like that."
"Oh...Why is...that?"
"Well, don't get me wrong. I mean, I'd love to get to know you and everything. You know, I know this might sound, I don't know, childish really, but I think you're better off without knowing me. I'm not exactly experienced in these sorts of things, relationships, that is."
"It's not like...we have to be steady, or anything like that. We can be friends you know. Just friends."
Tod leaned his head against the wall, taking in a deep breath. His fists clenched. "Sorry," he said with a small laugh. "I'm a little bad with these things. I don't mean to sound serious so suddenly. I’m just a busy guy with a lot on my shoulders.”
"Uhm, what if we go out this weekend and see how we feel?" she suggested. "How about it?"
"Well, I almost can't turn down the idea," he agreed. "I'll be very glad to see you again later this week."
She chuckled. "What do we have to lose?"
He paused, feeling tensions rise again. "Nothing, I suppose," he said.
"Then why don't we see Mr. Hagan?"
He smiled. "I’ll stop bothering you and let get back to sleep," he said. "By the way, I hope your mother is doing well."
"She'll be fine," she said. "Thanks."
“I was going to say, I think that’s brave of you,” he mentioned. “Taking care of her like that, even when she might be a little crazy.”
“At the end of the day, it’s your family. I help when I can. I don’t when I can’t.”
He glanced out to the hall watching George pass by, completely unaware he was hidden away in the dark office. “I bet she appreciates that.”
"I'm looking forward to seeing you again," she mentioned.
"Me too," he said. "Will you do me a favor?"
“What?”
"Think about this. And if you don't change your mind, will you meet me at the Puget harbor? And look for the dock with your name?"
"Alright," she said softly. "I'll think about it."
"Good," he said. "Sweet dreams, Leanne."
"Goodnight."
Click.
His eyes grew lost in the empty dark shadows around him. And he asked himself before he head back to work, what have I done?
9
1:20pm
The calm water painted a tranquil cerulean on a bright afternoon.
Tod stood in a medium sized, white boat where the docks led, tied to a wood post. It was one of the nicer ones he’d been renting from a wealthy owner. Sleek and shiny, and it ran all smooth.
Distractions were greatly appreciated as time wore on and no sign of a soul could be seen. He didn't worry though. Whether Leanne did or didn't show up, couldn't bother him. With a lot on his plate in life already, he just thought it would have been really nice if she did. In fact, a little too nice. Like a luxury he couldn't afford.
Every so often he'd walk down the pier and adjust the signs, just to be sure they didn't blow away. Still, time would pass and she wouldn't show up.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stood up in the boat after too many hours of maintenance without a break. About to float off on his own for the rest of the day, he glanced back out to the docks and wondered how long she'd been standing there in a thin, almost transparent turquoise dress covering her black and white bathing suit.
He dropped a bottle of polisher. His pounding chest felt like it could have burst as he watched Leanne walk down the dock and over to the boat. "Hey."
She returned his smile as they stood facing each other, only feet apart. "I thought about it."
He took her hand, leading her onto the polished wood floors of the boat before giving her a quick embrace. "I almost didn't expect you."
She looked around. "Nice boat."
He showed her around the sunny, sparkling clean, space. "You like it?"
She glanced to the large steering wheel, the seats outside and the seats inside the cabin as big as a room. She touched the burning tan leather. "It’s far out."
He smiled. “Hey, I have some sunscreen there inside the cabin.”
"That'd be great."
He handed her the sunscreen, then went to untie the rope that connected the boat to the docks. Once they were freed, the motor rumbled, and before they knew it, the boat was on its way further from the docks and shores towards the mountains and seas that sparkled and glistened.
She wandered to the front deck and sat on the edge of one of the seats. The strong inhale of sunscreen and briny, polished wood tangled their senses.
He pulled off his shirt, sweat dripping down his smooth back and felt the unexpected touch of her arms wrapped around his smooth chest as they ventured further out.
"Ever been captain before?" he asked.
She rested her head on his shoulders. "I haven’t."
He took an arm off the wheel and slowly wrapped it around her, pulling her almost too close for his beating hearts comfort. She reached out her hand and they steered together.
The sunlight, though it was close to fading, continued to sear their skin like a warm blanket with only the breeze to cool it. When they took a break, he played the radio while they sipped on glasses of champange and ice.
Leanne swayed to the song Look of Love by Dusty Springfield. "I love this song."
He crossed his arms.“You dance, don’t you?”
She moved swiftly and laughed. “Sometimes I'd like to think I can,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You know, really dance. Do you dance?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “When it’s necessary.”
The look
Of Love
Is in
Your eyes
A look
Your smile
Can't disguise
She neared her lips close to his ear. “Is now necessary?” she whispered.
A dryness took over his mouth, though he just gulped chilled water as they swayed. “I think so."
He was a smooth mover too, especially when the song changed to Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues.
Blue skies changed into a bright gold and pink around the mountains.
Tod lit his first cigarette of the night and continued to head a little further out. Though they already appeared to be in such a quiet, secluded spot by then, he had a favorite one in mind.
He couldn't help but notcied Leanne put on one of his sweaters. She comfortably watched a foggy mist settle around the evergreens.
The city was now a distant, far off dream. The cool air filled with the sounds of birds and their last calls for the night, splashing from marine life from far off, rustling trees and collapsing water.
When the tallest trees reflected in his eyes, he pulled out the anchor and turned on one of the cabin’s small lights. He set up some candles, plates, a fruit basket, some crystal glasses, a bottle of wine and some brandy, his favorite, with some ice on the back deck. From the basket, he picked up an orange he'd purchased from the markets where she worked and started peeling it while she did the honors in pouring the drinks.
He pulled apart a slice of the orange and placed it between her lips. The sweet, tangy citrus juice dripped into her mouth and a little down her small chin.
She smiled, wiping off the dripping juice with his sweater."Would you have still gone out here alone if I never came?"
He nodded. "I come out here whene
ver I get the chance."
She glanced out to the scenery as she took a sip of wine. "I can see why."
He took a sip of brandy. "Don’t get too boozy tonight," he smiled. "It can get dangerous out here if you’re not careful."
He watched the candlelight flickered in her eyes. Under the darkening skies, the glow warmed her face.
She asked quietly, as if they were around a campfire telling spooky stories, "Has anything dangerous ever happen to you here?"
He lowered his stare, watching the ice twirl in his drink. He looked back to her. "Not really."
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
"Me? What would I have to be afraid of?"
He wiped a small grin off his face. "You know, sea monsters?"
She laughed. "They don't bother me much."
"Just wait until one bumps the boat," he said. "In fact, there is a giant squid that lives around here. Lurking at the bottom. I heard it attacks mostly at night."
She threw a piece of orange at him. "Trying to scare me, huh?"
He glanced out to the waters growing shadowy. "I've seen some things out here. Maybe they weren't anything. I don't know...monsters are everywhere, if you think about it."
She took a bite of orange. "I know when I was a kid, I had some under my bed. I've never been able to get those things out. In the closets, too. That’s the worst."
He drank up the rest of his brandy. "I mean it," he said in all honesty. "It just depends on your definition of monster."
She rested her head on her hands. Her eyes wobbled.
He poured himself some more. "There was a man I used to see a lot out here," he mentioned. "Always on this small, wooden boat. Always fishing. And always alone. Sometimes I'd wave to him. He never waved back."
"You see him around anymore?"
He shook his head. "One day, I asked one of the big wigs always out here if they knew who he was and where he went. The guy, Captain West's his name, told me most people called him Gray Fog, and that he'd been fishing in that same spot just over on that side of the water nearly everyday for years. He'd been through hell and back, I was told. A great victim of war.”
"How so?" she asked.
He smirked. "Well, it's a story."
"All wars have one."
He winked. "But you see, it's not really a good one Leanne. It's sad."
She laughed. "Tell me."
“In Germany, merely after the war ended, he met an innocent widow whose husband was a fleeting Nazi and he fell in love with her, unable to help himself despite the situation. She loved him too, but in war there’s no sanctuary for love, and they were captured by the Russians who had earlier found her Nazi husband and wanted revenge.”
“The Russian's tortured her like they did to a lot of German's, but killed her by setting her on fire in front of him. He was then sent to the gulags but he escaped, only to see the brutal mess the war left behind in more detail on the paths leading home. He fought a long time to survive, but never forgot the German girl. Eventually, he came home, and was a different man ever since. I heard if ever spoke, he would only say how he liked the fog in the morning because it dulled the world for him, and that he felt the best on the water since it stopped all the flames."
"Sad. What happened to him?"
He looked out to the spot he'd usually see him fish. "We just don't see him anymore."
She sighed. "I feel sorry for him."
"You see a lot of things working out here," he went on. "One man I worked for, Rob, bought one of the biggest cabin cruisers I've ever seen. He used to have parties on it for the few weeks he had it. Invited me to all of them. The man was a genuinely nice guy. Some nights he'd Invite me for a drink at the bar. Always paid for everything. Told a lot of big stories on how he was going to sail the world on it and visit every country and island there is. He asked if I wanted to come, and yeah, the offer sounded nice, but I always said no. Good thing. A week later he was charged for the murder of his mother after putting his name in big letters on her will."
Leanne poured some brandy in her empty glass. "A damn shame."
"In a lot of ways, the guy was a monster and I never even knew it," he said. "Looks can be deceiving. And some monsters, you can't see at all, like you know, deadly diseases."
She glanced at the glassy waters and the trees swaying in the night breeze "Terrifying, when you think about it," she said quietly.
“Unfortunately,” he agreed.
"But don't worry." He lifted her hand, slowly, like fine china, and kissed her tingling finger tips. "Enjoy this night."
She moved over closer to him, until she was wrapped fully in his arms as he leaned against the cabin, looking to the astounding masterpiece above them.
He felt a tinge of nervousness, being that close. "I knew some pretty good masters of disguise," he said.
"Who?"
"My folks."
She leaned further against him, almost taking his breath away completely. He caught it, just in time, and continued on with the story.
"When my mom left Washington, she went back to Nebraska for good,” he said. “After my Dad passed, she came back for the funeral and tried to take more money from the inheritance, but it's money I have saved now, as my father wanted me too. She can't touch it.”
"Is that the last time you saw her?"
He remembered filthy kids screaming up and down the aisles of sticky plastic wood tables and all the smoke that had been blown out of someone's old lungs, lingering around for hours. He shook his head."The last time was a few years ago, out in Nebraska in a highway family restaurant," he said. "Her current boyfriend was there, of course. Greg."
And in his mind, Greg always came with the word grubby. He couldn't find a better way to describe him. Ball nosed, unkempt.
"Mom's high school sweetheart would never lose his title despite the decades and lack of hygiene." He laughed. "Greg hated my real father, and all the men my Mother’s cheated on him with, naturally. Even though they'd been living states away a long time, Greg watched my Mom’s life too carefully, like he'd rather be my Mom’s very last choice in life than no choice at all."
He imagined his mother in highschool years, stick thin, flashy, daring and popular for her mischievous, carefree attitude despite her less than average family. At least, that's the only description family and friends ever gave of her.
"My father was working hard in Washington when he found out my Mom had an affair in Nebraska," he said. "She volunteered to be there so she could care for his cancer riddled mother. But no one ever knew or could guess about her secret lover during that time. Not even about his son, who I know now, is my half-brother."
"She really got pregnant?"
He nodded. "My half-brother must be," he said and thought, counting his fingers. "Seventeen by now."
"So you were..."
"I was ten years old. Joining the little league, learning the ropes. My mom became just a woman who came in and out of my life, always bringing up Grandma’s sake whenever she'd show up to visit, who was too sick to travel and couldn’t be left behind in Nebraska, and not to mention reluctant to leave the house she’d lived in all her life. Mom really played the game with my Dad - helping his elderly mother for an allowance and destroying his love life at the same time. She played a sick joke, but I guess doesn't everyone once in a while?"
"Did your Dad ever find out she was pregnant?"
"Not until a few years after the baby was born,” he said, feeling a bit of the hurt all over again. “When my Grandma noticed a little kid strapped in a car seat, she called Dad. Mom gained a bit of weight by that time, my Dad could barely notice the bump. And after a while, he just never seemed to notice anything at all really, especially with the drinking. But Anyways, the point of the story is, my parents kept it so well. There were no loud arguments growing up, dreary phone calls, pots and pans thrown, dishes shattered. Only little league, pats on the back, smiles, dinners at the table. Even if my Mom wasn't always there, she certainly t
ried to be. We managed family vacations often and even a beagle named Snoopy. Though I was just a kid, my parents were true masters in disguises. They were falling apart and maintaining the near ideal family life in the process."
"Have you ever met your half brother?"
"I was 18 when I heard the name Coen Brinkley for the first time," he said. " hat's how long it took to realize I have a half-brother somewhere out there. It took me even longer to care, if I do at all now. I've never even seen a picture of the kid, let alone him, and I suppose that's how it should stay."
She rested her head on his chest. "Every family has skeletons in their closets," she said drearily. "I'm not sure if one ever gets away without them."
He nodded. "What's a good childhood memory for you?" he asked. "Everyone has to have one of those."
She smiled. “I liked being out at Robinsons. I remember one time in particular, a cold Sunday after church, I was spending a rainy fall day with Uncle Tuck and Jean. We made homemade apple pie after we carved pumpkins and made leaf piles. They were the nicest people I'd ever met. They let me do whatever I liked to without worrying I'll ruin my clothes or get hurt.
"You know," she mentioned. "Sort of out of the blue, but if my name wasn't Leanne, it would've been Sage, and you know, I think I'd like that better. It has a sort of hippy vibe to it, doesn't it?"
"Why Sage?" he asked.
She paused for a second.
"All names have one," he said.
"It's not really one you share with someone you just met."
His voice became quiet. "Now I'm curious."
She surrendered with an impish grin. “It happened some decades ago," she said. "My Mom was very close to her sister, Sophia. Mom's nickname then was Rose. Sophia's was Sage. The names were based on their favorite flowers. They never called each other anything else."
His gaze remained still.
She cleared her throat. "Then Sage passed suddenly." She said, "It's been twenty one years since, but to my Mom, it's always yesterday."
"Sometimes,” she said. “I wonder why death can hurt people enough to stop their own lives entirely. It's as if they never realized the world is a place for mortals. I mean, I understand the death of a loved one hurts brutally, but when my Aunt passed, my mother buried herself with her. For years. And when you only have one life, let's say, I wouldn't call that fair."
