They never did watch a movie that night.
Chapter 4
The Space Center was everything Sol could have dreamed of, except for no Colonel Nelson or Jeannie. He hadn't really expected them of course, but his imagination supplied him anyway when he saw displays from that era. Foot sore and legs aching, he ended up spending the evening in his chair, Seth calling ahead to the restaurant they had reservations at so that their table would be ready for him without the usual embarrassing charade. Sol always felt on show when they went to eat out and he had to have seating removed to make space for his chair. People always stared then, as the wait staff carried the unwanted seating through the dining room to where they could most conveniently stow it.
It was there that he encountered the only truly sour note of their trip.
He and Sol were sat at their table, waiting for their meal and conversing. They clasped hands across the table. It apparently was too much for a patron sat nearby.
“Elmer, get the manager! That's simply too much!”
Her husband looked chagrined. “Margie, just eat up and we can go.”
Her voice rose. “I can't eat now. That turns my stomach!”
The head waiter hurried over.
“Is there something wrong?”
The man's face flushed a deep red. “Could you just box up our food and bring me the check?”
Margie was having none of it. “Can't you do something for that poor boy over there?” She gestured towards Sol.
Sol froze. His eyes began to widen as he felt the old familiar feelings of anxiety grip his heart.
“I'm sorry, what can I get you?” the waiter politely asked as he turned to their table.
“We're fine,” Seth answered quietly. “But she's upsetting my husband. He suffers from PTSD.”
Th waiter nodded as he grasped the situation. “I'll take care of it. Please enjoy the rest of your meal.” He gestured to another member of wait staff. “Please box up table 12's meal and bring the bill. And comp table 14's.” He turned to smile at Elmer as the the other waiter began to remove their plates. “It'll be just a moment, sir.”
Elmer nodded, embarrassment still evident on his face.”
“But that poor retarded boy! That man was groping him!”
Sol wished he could sink under the table.
“No-not re-re-tar-ded.”
“No, you're not. And it's a nasty way to describe someone anyway,” Seth said fiercely. He turned around in his seat to better face the woman at the nearby table. “My husband suffered a traumatic brain injury thanks to narrow minded fools. It left him speech impaired and with mobility issues. He doesn't need another idiot embarrassing him on his honeymoon because of his disabilities and making exaggerated claims because he chooses to hold his husband's hand!”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
The waiter held his hands up placatingly. “Ma'am, please calm down. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to take your wife to the front and wait for your bill by the register.”
“Elmer!”
“Margie, just go to the register. Don't make a worse scene.”
She looked around the dining room. Patrons were looking uncomfortable and more than one looked at her with hostility. She closed her mouth before her next words of protest cold be uttered and swanned off to the front.
The manager joined the head waiter at their table. “Please accept our humble apologies. Your meal is on us.”
“No-not your f-fault,” Sol said.
“At least allow us to help you celebrate your honeymoon with you.”
“Thank you very much,” Seth replied.
The manager looked relieved and the head waiter scurried off, returning with a bottle of champagne on ice. “This and the rest of your meal are on us!” he declared. “And congratulations on your marriage!”
Overwhelmed by their kindness, Sol let the tight bands of fear ease from his chest and forgot his embarrassment once the food arrived. By the time several staff came out with a dessert sporting lit sparklers for them, the evening had regained its magic.
They slept in the next day, then spent a lazy afternoon at Cocoa Beach. That evening's meal was eaten watching the sunset as they sipped sweet tea and enjoyed Diane's portobello and mature cheddar veggie burgers. The sunset was spectacular and Sol felt he'd been gifted with yet another treasure as they ate in companionable silence. He looked forward to their setting sail the next morning, as it marked the leg of their journey that would see them on their way to Grand Bahama Island. It was to be the start of their three month long tour through the islands. The end of their trip would see them sail for home, returning in time for Thanksgiving. He hoped Ben would come. It would be nice to celebrate a proper family Thanksgiving.
The sea stayed clam and no UFOs magically appeared as they passed through the Triangle. Sol was both relieved and disappointed and laughed at himself over it. Diane was happy to let him keep her company in the small galley, him perched on a stool sipping coffee as she worked. It was a companionable journey and he reflected on how he'd never felt quite so relaxed before. Seth had taken the wheel and called out to him as they approached their destination. A small private jetty peeked out almost shyly and Sol wondered if they could moor without running aground. Seth laughed and pointed slightly further to a cove ahead.
Sol's eyes widened. Seth was full of surprises. He'd had no idea that Seth had friends who had resorts with private marinas in sheltered coves.
“I translated his brochures for him into a few different languages. I promised to his website next in exchange for this,” Seth told him.
So it began, days filled with white sands, good music and food, and sunsets that promised paradise. Loving kisses and urgent lovemaking as the mood took them. This was the stuff of dreams, Sol decided. A dream that hopefully a portent of their life to come. Watching the shoreline recede from the islands one last time as they set sail home at sunset, Sol smiled gently to himself and looked forward to the memories they were yet to make together.
The End
Read their love story from the beginning:
Sol's Solstice
Sol is used to flying under his family's radar, unless focusing unwanted attention away from his more outgoing, older twin. The day comes when he pays a steep price for attempting to shield his brother. Running for his life, he is nearly run down by a car driven by Seth. Can Seth help Sol find his way back from the darkness?
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Sol shifted in his bunk. He could hear the regular breathing of his twin through the stillness. The crickets had long ceased their chirping, and the only other sound that could be heard was the gentle rustling of the curtain as the occasional breeze made its way through the open screened window along with glimmers from the streetlight outside. The bed creaked as Ben shifted slightly in the top bunk. The bed was nearly as old as his father, and truth be told, some nights Sol feared he would awake with bits of lumber, a mattress, and Ben burying him. But this was not why Sol felt uneasy tonight. Something else had woken him, and he concentrated on the dark stillness to try to decipher what that something could have been.
There--what was that? He strained to hear, body gone tense, willing himself to discover the origin of the slight sound without opening his eyes or turning to look. He wanted to know, but he was very afraid that he already knew what it was. Wanting confirmation that his suspicions were correct, but not wanting to provoke that which was making the sound. A low chuckle, then a voice giving the dreaded confirmation, “I know you're awake, boy. No sense tryin' to fool me none. Now, Ben, he's asleep. But you're awake, and I can see that just fine, even in the dark.”
Sol stiffened, then forced himself to relax. No sense letting him see he's gotten to me. Creepy bastard, standing there watching us sleep. Best answer him, and maybe he'll go away.
“What is it, Shane?” he asked softly, turning his head towards the man who stood just inside the closed doorway.
&nbs
p; “That's Uncle Shane, to you, boy. I might only be a bit older'n you, but I am your elder and you'll show me respect. As fer what it is, is I wanted to see if y’all were sleepin' like you should. Or if you were doin' bad boy things. Dreamin' what you shouldn't, or mebee touchin' yerself. I know what teenaged boys is like. So, tell me, what was you dreamin' about? And did you say yer prayers all proper like your mama and daddy and granny woulda wanted?”
Shit. Shane was on one of his kicks. From the way he was acting, he must've had more than just the one beer and a toke. Sol tried to calm his racing heart. With Shane in a mood like this, things could go one of two ways. He'd either be easily placated and go back to his couch and smoke some more weed and drink a few more beers until he went to sleep, hopefully without causing a fire, or he'd get aggressive. Sadly, there was no way to know which way things would turn out, as Shane was very unpredictable once he got this way. Sol inwardly cursed his parents for leaving him and Ben with this asshole in their absence.
“Yeah, we said our prayers, Uncle Shane, and I don't recall if I was dreaming anything. Maybe I haven't had my dream yet. How about you? Trouble sleeping? Want me to cook a pizza and watch some TV with ya 'til you're ready for bed?”
“Yes, Uncle Shane, I said my prayers,” mimicked Shane, sarcasm adding a dark edge to his voice that left a chill in Sol's bones as Shane's shadow fell across him. “Don't you go mocking me, boy!” The punch was half expected, but it still hurt like hell when it landed. Sol let out an involuntary cry of pain.
“What? Sol?” Ben startled awake,
“Back to sleep, boy.” Sol heard the crack of a backhanded slap as Shane let loose his rage.
The last thing he remembered was shouting, “That's enough!” as he tackled Shane's legs, then a sharp pain in his skull, then nothing.
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Sunsets at Sea Page 2
