Blue: A Love Story on the Bermuda Shores

by Daya Daniels

  The sound from the rotors is deafening. I brush the strands of my hair away from my face, ignoring my jitters of being harnessed to this machine, so that I don’t fall the fuck out and go crashing thirty feet below into the blue ocean today, that’s covered in white caps. I’d done this ten times before in the last week. I was beyond getting the hang of it. I pull my helmet back on, blocking out much of the noise from the rotors and breathe. Shakily, place my foot on the guard rail, just outside the helicopter and lean out. I inhale the breeze, sucking it deep into my lungs. The pilot ahead of me concentrates on keeping this thing steady in the wind today, tossing me up various hand signals that I’m still in the process of learning.

  I ignore the feeling of being suspended in mid-air.

  I ignore the feeling of darting across the sky at sixty miles per hour.

  I ignore the feeling of my entire body leaning out of this helicopter.

  This is insane but I-fucking-loved it!

  Focus. Concentrate. Get the Goddamn shot!

  I give the pilot a thumbs up and focus the lens on the action below. With each click, the shudder snaps violently. I angle the camera, capturing the water and the way it licks up against the team of men that are attempting to keep the boat steady.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The helmsman is focused. He barks out orders that I obviously can’t hear from above but the veracity in his features, tells me he isn’t one for games. The men scramble across the boat, skittering across the net between the twin hulls, shifting the sails and untying and tying various lines.

  I take a few more shots of the scenery. Watford Bridge looms in the distance. Spanish Point is to the helo’s west and Boaz Island is to our left.

  I continue to take shots at different angles, zooming and in and out, focusing on the light that filters in through the wide-angle lens. The Canon I hold in my hand, allows me to take shots that are so close, I might as well be hanging from the side of the boat. Desperately, I want to see the shots from this moment but it’s impossible, until I’m done and I didn’t want to be guilty of chimping.

  Bad. Bad. Bad.

  I need to keep my eyes on the action, not spending time checking every photo on the LCD in front of me. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting to see the results that could ultimately be the best shot of the year in sports photography or could turn out to be absolute garbage.

  A school of fish create a white ruckus in the water a few feet in front of the boat.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The helmsman thunders out more instructions. I snap a few shots of his face contorted and his jaw set so tight, I think it’ll shatter.

  “Get closer when they bank left, please.” I instruct into the mic in front of my mouth.

  “Roger, that.” The pilot responds.

  The helicopter dips and my stomach falls away. The pilot gives me a glance, spinning his index finger in the air, confirming he’s going to circle again.

  I give him a firm nod, conscious of the feeling that my heart will leap out of my throat at any moment. I plop down on the side of the helicopter, holding onto the open door and laugh. Like, really laugh and in this moment, I truly realize that this is what I love.

  I’m. In. Love.

  Nico

  Cass squeals as we peer closer to the tiny rock lizard that couldn’t be more than four inches long. “It’s a skink.” She says with bright eyes.

  “A what?”

  “A skink.” She repeats. “Another protected species here, of course.” She attempts to touch the tiny green creature. “I can tell by the brown body, pale belly and orange throat patch. See.” She points and in that moment, the lizard scrambles down the (toxic enough to kill a cow) oleander tree branch and out of sight.

  “I wrote a story about one for a writing competition when I was little girl in grammar school. I won it actually.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, it was called Skinny Skink about a lizard that was teased relentlessly because he was skinny, like I was.” She whispers the last part, giving me a sexy wink.

  “That’s cool.”

  “You don’t tell me many stories about when you were younger.” She mumbles.

  “I do.” I laugh. “But there isn’t much to tell. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She says softly, looking over her shoulder, her beautiful brown hair a thick mass flowing down her back.

  “Are you calling me a liar, Ms. Mora?” I run and catch up to her, when she takes a few stairs to a platform that overlooks the Great Sound in the distance.

  I embrace her from behind and squeeze. When I don’t let up she laughs.

  “Você está me chamando de mentirosa? Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No.” She giggles out.

  “You better not be.” I mumble into the soft skin on her neck.

  “What do you miss about being home?”

  “Tat.”

  Cass smiles at me. “Of course you do. Our little chats on Skype are pretty interesting.”

  I laugh, remembering some of Cass and Tat’s conversations. They always centered around lip gloss and the latest reruns of iCarly on the Disney Channel. How Cass knew about the show was beyond me, especially since we didn’t have cable TV on the boat. I always manage to keep their chats short and too the point. Tat knows the rules. The two ladies are getting to know each other slowly, even though Tat is thousands of miles away. I’d never introduced Tat to a woman I’ve been interested in, so this was a first. Everything about Cass and I’s relationship, for me, was a first. Cass was different. I saw a future with her in a way I never thought I would with any woman. We have a connection – an undeniably fierce connection.

  “I miss you.” I whisper, when I realize we haven’t spent any real time together in the last three days since Cass has been busy with work.

  “I miss you too.”

  I guide Cass to a bench, plop down next to her and pull a tiny box from my pocket. A smile spreads across her face when I place it in her hand. She looks at me, then the box and then back to me again, then to the box.

  “Abra. Open it.” I encourage with an irritated breath.

  “You bought me something.” She whines. “You didn’t have to buy me anything, Nico.”

  “Cass, please.”

  I keep my eyes trained on her as she flips the box open, revealing a tiny gold circular-shaped pendant, with a cresting wave inside on the end of a delicate gold chain.

  “It’s beautiful.” She chuckles with watery eyes and places a kiss to my lips.

  She removes it from the box and turns away from me, allowing me to put it around her neck. Gently, I swipe her hair to the side and secure the lobster claw at her nape.

  Cass spins around and drops her gaze to the pendant that now grace’s the delicate spot just above where her cleavage is. “It’s pretty.”

  I touch the tip of my finger to her nose, then make a slow trail to the pendant, holding it between my fingers.

  “The wave is powerful. It can be gentle but it can also be menacing. It’s a force in itself – like you, Cass. Maybe like me too?”

  Her head jerks between the pendant and my forearm. “It’s one of your tattoos.”

  I give her a faint nod.

  “I like it.” She whispers. “I love it. Obrigado. Thank you, Nico.”

  The sun is setting in the distance. Cass checks her watch and nudges her chin in the direction of an iron gate that looks like it’s a few hundred years old.

  “We should look around a little more before it gets dark.” She suggests.

  “Sure, yeah. Let’s go. This has been fun.”

  Cassandra

  “And the significance of this place is what?” Nico whispers, still his voice bounces off the cavernous walls of the of the stone room we’re in, creating an echo.

  “It’s an old fort.” I answer, still looking around fiddling with the tiny gold pendant that feels foreign around my neck but still nice. “They built it af
ter the Civil War, when the British became concerned that the victorious Union would take revenge for their support of the Confederacy. So, to protect Dockyard against a possible land attack the British built this place in 1860.”

  My canvas sneakers slip on the grit that covers the stone floor. Inside the fort is dark and damp, since the stone around us holds moisture.

  Nico’s gaze bounces around inquisitively. “These walls are five feet wide. “Wow.” He says in disbelief, examining the stone.

  “I know.”

  “It’s limestone.”

  Nico gives me a long look.

  “Did you know limestone is composed mainly of skeletal fragments of marine organisms such as coral and mollusks?”

  “I did.” Nico answers, giving me a handsome grin.

  We’d already walked around outside at the Fort Scaur, that was just up the hill from where Reel Talk was docked. Old cannons littered the place as well as beautiful flowers outside. A few cannons remained inside the fort. I spin around to look at Nico’s profile. He’s wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts. His tanned legs are covered by khaki cargo shorts and a pair of white Nike’s are on his feet. He runs a hand through his hair. I follow the lines of the thick veins and stare at the various layers of cut muscle in his arms. Hugging my middle, I saunter into the next room and then down a long hallway, feeling my ears pop as I further descend into the semi-darkness. The cooler air prickles my skin, through the thin sundress I’m wearing. Glancing over my shoulder, Nico follows me. His eyes jerk around the cavernous space like he’s on patrol, just waiting for something to jump out so he can pounce.

  “Relax.” I tell him, encouraging him to follow me.

  He rushes up behind me, putting his hands on my hips and placing a kiss to my ear. I giggle at the sensation of his warm lips at my nape. Taking a few more steps, it gets darker. We’re at least two floors beneath the ground. It feels like winter down here, since the temperature has dropped so much. Nico’s thick fingers thread through my hair as he guides me to an empty room. I spin around in his arms and give him an endearing smile but remain silent as he follows me, like a little lamb being led to the slaughter.

  We round a heavy wrought iron gate. He presses his lips to mine slowly, assuredly, as he backs me into the cold, hard wall with a thump. His fingers drag along my thighs, lifting the thin white dress I have on, up to my waist, revealing that I’m completely bare underneath. Nico’s back bows with a groan. He pushes me into the wall with his heavy body, allowing his lips to skitter over the end of my nose and lips.

  “Eu quero sua carne.” Nico whispers.

  I want your flesh.

  “Foder.”

  To fuck.

  “Tocar.”

  To touch.

  “Me esvaviar.”

  To empty myself in.

  “Eu quero reivindicar seu coração.”

  I want to claim your heart.

  He assaults my mouth with his lips and tongue, leaving me breathless. His large hand wraps around my thigh. The other grips my ass lifting me from the floor. I kiss him hard, inhaling the scent that dusts his skin – the remnants of body wash, the ocean and a bit of male sweat. The scratchy stubble on his face burns my skin but I love it all the same. Nico scrambles to release his cock. I inhale with a squeak and suck in a breath of surprised air when he buries himself deep inside me. He growls into my neck and drops down nearly into a squat, before vaulting my entire weight upwards with each agonizing stroke. I bury my face into his shoulder as he fucks me, parting my flesh so exquisitely, as he fills me with his own.

  “I love you.” I murmur, while he pounds into my wetness with the monster, hitting my cervix with each violent stroke, creating the most beautiful pain I think I’ve ever fucking felt.

  Nico

  It’s twelve at night.

  I’d pull back and then allow the reel to spin, letting my line run out again. I didn’t know what this motherfucker was but I was bringing it in tonight, no-matter-what. My back was screaming and the joints of my fingers were burning. I’d been going at this for about two hours now. I let go, taking a seat and strapping myself in, letting the fighting harness that’s attached to me, hold on to whatever is out there underneath the black ocean tonight. I take a long sip of beer, watching the line go out as the fish descends further beneath the water. The sky is clear and the stars twinkle above. A crescent moon lights the sky a little tonight. It’s quiet. Cass is asleep after we stayed up for a while watching a movie called What About Bob?, which Cass said was one of her favorites.

  I think back to this afternoon and the lazy walk she took me on, which ended with me being balls deep in that tight, wet slit of hers that I swear was only made for me. Cass came in less than a minute and then so did I. I think about the vision of her sexy mouth and pouty pink lips that remained parted, while I slid in and out of her taking her breath away. It was fucking perfection.

  I jerk my attention away from the sea that laps against the side of the boat and focus on my phone, which lights up with Aurelio’s scowl, followed by a few urgent text messages. Groaning, I check them all and then Tatiana’s bright face shows up on the screen. Swiping the faceplate, I accept the Skype call ready to scold her for being up so late when there’s school tomorrow.

  “Papai.” She whispers.

  “Tat, what are you doing up?” I ask in a bored tone.

  She wipes her tired eyes. “I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing? Where is Cass?”

  “I’m fishing. Cass is sleeping because it’s sleepy time.”

  I check my watch again. Exactly, twenty eight minutes have passed, so it’s 12:38 a:m. Despite the fact that I was four thousand miles away from Tat in Brazil, the time there was the exact same minute and hour as it is here in Bermuda.

  Tatiana smiles. “What do you think you’ll catch?” She asks in an even more hushed tone, looking over her shoulder.

  “I think I’ll catch a steelhead jack.”

  She giggles. “That’s cool, Papai.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  The phone she’s holding shifts and now I have a view of her sleeping in bed, complete with glittery pink pajamas and a teddy squeezed in her grasp.

  “Tell me a story, Papai. So I can go back to sleep.”

  I smile and flex in the chair I’m sitting in. “This story is about a little girl that couldn’t go to sleep. It’s called Sleeping Tatiana.”

  She laughs and so I do, completely unsure of where I come up with all this shit right on the spot when she needs me too.

  “Once upon a time, there was a story about a little girl named Tatiana. She lived far away from her Papai sometimes. Her Papai loved her so, so much that the times when he had to leave her, left him feeling sad – like someone had taken away his favorite toy.”

  Tat giggles, her eyelids lowering right in front of me.

  “Tatiana’s Papai promised her that when he finally saw her, that he’d make everything up to her and that they’d spend so much time together having fun that their bellies would explode from laughing so much.

  “But in the meantime, Tatiana had to sleep eight hours every night. Anything less would result in a strand of her hair being lost on the soft pillow that she slept on every night.”

  Tatiana’s tiny hand lifts and pulls at a lock of her hair. A small gasp leaves her mouth, when a long strand slips out between her fingers.

  “See.” I whisper.

  She squeezes the teddy tight and laughs, knowing it’s all a joke but it doesn’t make the story any less interesting.

  “So, if I don’t get eight hours of sleep every night, all my hair will fall out?” She asks, her mouth forming an O when she finishes her question.

  I remain silent and wiggle my brows.

  “I don’t wanna be bald, Papai.” She whines.

  “Well, go to sleep and I promise you baby when you get here, we’ll have lots of fun.”

  “Okay.” She whispers. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I
tell her kissing the camera lens.

  “Goodnight, Papai.”

  “Goodnight, Tat.”

  The Skype call ends. When I finish here, I plan to spend the next two hours answering emails and most importantly tending to matters that were important to Aurelio. I’d be lucky if I got to sleep before three in the morning.

  Taking the rod back in hand, I wind in and notice there’s little to no fight left in this fish. I was tired but whatever was on the end of this line was likely even more exhausted. We’ve been fighting this war for a while now and it looks like I’ve won the battle. Shifting and making myself more comfortable in the seat, I begin the slow task of reeling this bastard in.

  Nico

  Time seems to be moving at an incredible speed – so fast that I was getting my days mixed up and things that once were priorities, were put far behind the woman I was in love with. We spent time on the boat, fishing, swimming and riding around the island when we had free time. We ate a few times at some of Cass’ favorite casual spots - The Spot Restaurant, The Swizzle Inn in Warwick and a cozy diner, called Prime’s Place in Hamilton. I had dinner with her family a few more times and had taken Joseph out to Argus Banks to fish, as I’d promised. Everything is comfortable in this life I have with Cass. Tatiana is the only piece of the puzzle which makes my world complete, that’s missing. I’m over the fucking moon that she’ll be here soon.

  “What is it?” Cass smiles, looking up at me with her brown eyes, jerking me from my thoughts and back to the present.

  “It’s a surprise.” I whisper for the tenth time.

  I nudge her to lie back in the cool pink sand next to me. The south shore waves wash over us, cooling our backs, dusting our skin with salt under the sun as we stare up at the clouds. The sky is clear with a few scattered white clouds around. The longtails fly around us, while we relax on Chaplin Bay, a.k.a Cass’ beach.