Goodbye to You

by A. J. Matthews

  We glide through the water, and I marvel at the array of colorful life under the surface. Schools of yellow and blue fish dart around as we swim over the purple and yellow coral. My heart starts racing when a sea turtle paddles by me.

  Then I spy something I can never unsee.

  One of the other couples is hanging on floats a considerable distance from the boat. While their upper bodies are above water, they are immersed from the waist down. The man’s swim trunks are pulled down, revealing a hairy backside. His girlfriend’s arm moves back-and-forth. Ha. Maybe that’s what Ed was talking about when mentioning what other passengers leave behind in the water, which also deserves a hefty ewww.

  I tap Shay and point. His eyes widen behind the mask, and he reverses course, diverting us from the peepshow.

  At least no one can accuse us of being voyeurs.

  We swim back to the boat, dropping the used gear into a large plastic bin. I go to grab one of the provided towels, but Shay extends his hand to me, and leads me back to the water after grabbing some of the pool floats. We lie on our stomachs and paddle out a little in the opposite direction of the “hand job” couple.

  He points to the horizon. Nothing but sky and water. “When things get crazy, coming here is a potent reminder of how everything doesn’t center around me. That I’m a small part of an immense world.”

  “When things get crazy. I know about that.”

  I know crazy well. Crazy has been, and will be, a part of my life for some time.

  “Tell me.” He turns his head, and his eyes are heavy with concern, his tone genuine.

  “I’m…” The secret about my surgery is hanging right on the tip of my tongue. I fling the bitter words to the back of my mouth and swallow them.

  He pulls his float closer to mine and his fingers circle my wrist, his grip firm but reassuring. The sweet friction ties me up in knots but in more than a lustful way.

  “You can tell me anything.”

  I believe him.

  Still, I withhold the truth. I’m leaving in a few days and will never see him again. What harm could come in telling a near-stranger about my life- and body-altering surgical procedure?

  Would he be so disgusted by my imminent “self-mutilation” that he wouldn’t see me as a whole woman anymore?

  I want to feel whole and normal for a few more days before I start getting poked, squeezed, and prodded by a team of dispassionate medical professionals.

  For now, I want the poking and squeezing to be as passionate as possible.

  “My sister…She’s been sick, and I’ve been helping to take care of her and her kids. I love them so much, but being a caregiver—it’s draining.” A partial truth of what’s been weighing on my mind.

  He releases my wrist, and I run fingers along the solid length of his forearm. He flinches almost imperceptibly as I trace the puckered skin near his elbow.

  “What’s this from?” It’s an innocuous question, at least it’s meant to be. Instead of answering right away, he tenses up and pauses.

  Then he jumps off his float and grabs me from mine. “Shark bite!”

  I calm my flailing limbs and lock my legs around his waist before he plunges us under the water. I come up sputtering, then frown.

  “Those things are everywhere out here.”

  I’m sure he’s lying, but he’s smiling again, so I let it go and concentrate on the sensation of his flesh against mine.

  My hands drift over his arms and shoulders, caressing the taut muscles under the hot surface of his skin. The smell that’s ever-present—salt and coconut-scented sunblock—is enhanced by the scorching afternoon sun. I don’t need another drop of alcohol for the rest of my vacation.

  I could get drunk from inhaling him.

  His large hands cup my butt, holding me up, and strong fingers knead at my soft flesh as he stands on his toes in the shallows.

  My lips are a whisper away, and he breathes in my moan before I close my eyes and lower my head.

  A shower of fireworks goes off behind my eyelids.

  Shay answers my groan with his own, and he weaves his hands into my hair. My scalp tingles as he pulls me deeper into his kiss. I wind my arms around his back, slipping a few fingers into the waistband of his trunks. My fingers explore the hard planes of muscle under his scorching skin where back meets quite firm backside.

  Shay tears his lips from mine, and a sense of loss sweeps over me until he traces hot kisses across my cheek, my ear, and down my neck.

  Then he reclaims my mouth again in a soft, searching kiss.

  I whimper, my heart thudding, threatening to explode from the confines of my chest. This is madness, but that doesn’t stop me from returning his kiss with equal ferocity. He tastes bitter and tangy and oh, so sweet. I can’t get enough of his delicious mouth.

  I want more. My hands take on a life of their own, moving from his back to his arms to his hard chest with a desperate, grasping yearning.

  He wants me. His erection presses against me, and with just the right movement, I could orgasm right here.

  I want him with a ferocity I’ve never known. I’d been touched before, all over my body.

  But no man has ever touched my heart.

  Until now.

  I am so fucked.

  A bell sounds from the boat, smothering the electrical current sparking between us.

  The signal to return. Time to head back to shore.

  I’m sad, but grateful. A little more time and he could have convinced me to slip off my suit and get it on in the water.

  This man is too hot for his own good—and mine.

  I regret now I have to go with Bennie tonight, and that we won’t be back until late.

  I’m all about supporting a friend and showing some love, but I’ve got an itch for a beautiful Irish boy that needs to be scratched.

  Hard.

  Chapter 4

  Shay

  I’m glad I texted Thea last night inviting her and her friends on this trip out to Fort Jefferson this morning. She was rather excited—at least seemed so over text—telling me she’d wanted to visit, but she didn’t want to take the two-and-a-half hour ferry trip by herself.

  The owner of the sea plane tour company owed Da a favor since we took Tony’s extended family out on a sunset cruise a couple months ago when they were visiting here from Montana. I asked Da if I could call in the favor. Since he had no need to take a plane trip out to the Dry Tortugas anytime soon, I want the opportunity to spend more time with Thea, and impress her with an amazing experience.

  I told her to bring along her friends, but I’m surprised they came. They seem more like night owls. In the waiting room, the redhead Felicia is drinking her third cup of complimentary coffee. Bennie is in the chairs, head leaning against a corner wall, feet propped on a bag filled with beach towels and water bottles. She snores quietly while we wait for the rest of the plane’s morning passengers to arrive.

  I show Thea a map of our trip across the water, pointing out the private island whose owner once hosted the likes of Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams. Since she likes Hemingway so much and loves to read, I thought that would interest her.

  I guide her hand over the map with mine. We both know she can follow along without the physical contact, but her breath hitched when I touched her, and she didn’t pull away.

  Tony comes into the lobby and calls out everyone’s name, checking to make sure we all have water, snacks, and sunscreen, directing us to a vending machine in the corner that sells the first two, since the bookstore at the fort doesn’t sell these items.

  He also asks if anyone’s going to snorkel—they provide the masks, air tubes, and flippers, and Thea and I both raise our hands. She came prepared with her camera and its waterproof case to take underwater pictures.

  Bennie grumbles something about finding a tree to sleep under, and Felicia declines.

  “She’s not much of a swimmer. Doesn’t leave the shallow end of the pool,” Thea whispers.


  I nod. “So why’d you guys come to an island for vacation?”

  “Because the price was right, silly.” She sticks out her tongue at me, but her action doesn’t make me laugh.

  It makes me want her tongue licking me in all the right places.

  I hold my backpack in front of me and adjust the uncomfortable erection pressing into the front seam of my shorts.

  We board the plane, and I whisper to the pilot while the ladies and other passengers take their seats on the ten-passenger seaplane.

  I tap Thea’s bare, freckled shoulder and signal for her to come with me to the cockpit.

  She tilts her head and purses her lips.

  Confusion looks so cute on her.

  “Tony, this is my friend Thea. Thea, Tony needs a co-pilot today, and I thought you might enjoy the view from upfront.”

  “I…I don’t know. I’ve never ridden in the front seat of a plane before.”

  Tony scratches his bald head. “Nothing special. Just a different view from the back. I’ve got the controls.”

  “Go on,” I urge her, “It’s spectacular, especially on the landing.”

  “Oh, well, sure then.” She takes a seat in the cockpit, her sky-blue eyes wide as her fingers hover above the controls, gadgets, and meters.

  I take a seat in the first row on the left, with Thea in my sights.

  We take off smoothly, flying over the island and moving over open water in a flash. The flight is an hour long, and the recorded narration interesting. The shipwrecks visible from the plane are fascinating. When the narrator mentions the wreckage of some Cuban immigrant boats, Bennie perks up and glances out the window.

  Thea’s staring through the windshield, mouth agape at the view from the cockpit. We’re pulling in for our water landing, which is much smoother than on the ground.

  Fort Jefferson is a national park, so a park ranger meets us at the plane and offers to take us on a tour. A family of four elects the tour and Thea wants to join in. Bennie and Felicia hop off with their bags and ask the guide if there’s a shaded area where they can crash.

  She points them in the right direction, and we follow the guard to the entrance of the red brick fort.

  The dark corridors of the fort, coupled with the feel of Thea’s soft hand in mine, make me want to wrap her up in my arms and press her against the chilly stone walls and kiss her like she’s never been kissed before.

  The look of awe on her face is mesmerizing. The smallest things fascinate her, grab her attention, and hold it. She’s taking lots of pictures, and I grin at her.

  “What?” She brushes some stray curls back behind her ears and continues taking pictures. “I’m storing up material for future lessons when I start teaching. Little kids don’t learn much from textbooks, but photos like these create a host of learning opportunities for discussions on science, history, all kinds of stuff.”

  Any class she teaches will be full of lucky kids.

  “Let’s move on to the prison cells…” the guide interjects, and we all shuffle behind her.

  I pull a bottle of water from my backpack, crack the cap, and offer her a sip.

  Her slender fingers brush mine as I hand over the bottle. Sparks shoot between us and she laughs weakly. Does she feel the zing, too?

  She wraps her soft pink lips around the bottle top and drinks. She pulls the bottle away and licks at the drops that dribble out of her mouth.

  This is going to be a long morning if she keeps that up.

  The tour winds down, and we head back to the plane to pick up our snorkeling equipment. I guide her to the small beach behind the fort, where the snorkeling is better. She takes her camera off of her neck and sets it on the picnic bench.

  Her fingers slide into the straps of her sundress and slip the pink dress down over her curves, revealing inch by delectable inch the beautiful curves I can’t wait to get my hands on.

  I rake my gaze over her from head to toe, swallowing as I realize she’s wearing a bikini. Not tiny patches held together with string. This is sexier. The black and white dotted top, modest by most bikinis’ standards, supports her well. Her breasts sit high, and one might say, proudly on display.

  Begging to be touched.

  Forget about this being a long morning.

  This might be my last day on Earth because this woman is trying to kill me.

  We gear up and hit the water, Thea with her camera strapped around her neck. We swim out and explore.

  Within two minutes, a five-foot tarpon zips by. Thea’s eyes widen, and she flinches. It’s disconcerting when a fish almost as long as you swims so close.

  She snaps more pictures. Blue and yellow angelfish, fat mottled groupers, and silver barracudas paint the underwater landscape on a backdrop of sea urchins, anemones, brain coral, and sea fans.

  She’s enjoying the view.

  About as much as I’m enjoying the view of her.

  I don’t think she has a clue how sexy she is. I want to show her later, when we’re alone.

  I check my watch, and it’s almost time to go. I tap her leg and point up.

  We break the surface, and I pull the air tube from my mouth. “We’ve got to get going. I wish we could stay all day, but it’s time.”

  She screws up her face, disappointed like me that the day here is done.

  We swim to shore and gather up all of our belongings. Sand is clinging to the backs of her thighs and the tiny sliver of butt cheek peeking out from the bottom of her suit.

  I want to brush off the sand, but know if I start touching her my hands will be stuck to her like powerful magnets.

  Instead, we rinse off in the showers and change into dry clothes.

  Bennie and Felicia are already on the plane. They both appear more rested and not as surly as earlier.

  It’s something. At least they won’t give Thea a hard time about getting them up so early. They may just head back to the condo and sleep the day away before hitting the bars tonight, as Thea mentioned they’d been doing most of the trip.

  I don’t want to party or drink, like a lot of people heading into the most stressful years of their lives.

  My time with Thea is all the recreation I need.

  ***

  Thea

  I am so in love…with Key West.

  At first, I thought it was a crazy idea to visit somewhere even hotter than central North Carolina in July. As I mentioned to Shay, we’re staying in the condo for free, and since it’s the off-season, we were able to score some pretty cheap flights from Raleigh.

  Everything about this place is perfect.

  A tiny island packed with so much to do, or you can choose to do nothing at all. That’s what I did the first week, but I’m happy I’ve been active these last few days.

  I can’t think of a more perfect place for vacation.

  My only regret? Not meeting Shay sooner.

  The past few days have been a fantasy, and I wish I’d started living the dream earlier in the trip.

  We stroll leisurely, hand-in-hand, up Whitehead toward the waterfront.

  Apparently, no trip to Key West is complete without a visit to the Sunset Celebration at Mallory Square. While I’ve witnessed a few sunsets since I’ve been here, I haven’t been to the square to watch the performers.

  A small crowd gathers, clapping and whistling erupting from the middle of the throng gathered on the brick-paved square.

  Shay leads me in closer, and cats are jumping through flaming hoops, hopping from stool-to-stool, and walking a tightrope all at the command of an older gentleman. He chatters endlessly about the critters, all the while getting them to perform tricks that all the cats I’ve had could never be trained to perform.

  The show ends, and the crowd applauds then disperses.

  We tread the red brick of the square. The rich, full sound of bagpipes from another performer follow us for hundreds of feet.

  “Oooh!” I point to a small cluster of storefronts.

  “What?”
r />   “Ice cream!”

  His eyebrows shoot up as he smiles. I think he’s already used to my foodie quirks. Well, my one quirk.

  How much I love to eat.

  My mint-chocolate-cookie ice cream in a waffle cone is the perfect treat on this hot evening.

  Shay takes a lick of his soft serve, and a glob of chocolate sticks to the tip of his nose.

  I lean in and kiss it off, the ice cream sweet, but salty from his skin.

  A young lady with a guitar playing country songs is set up near one of the footbridges. I check her list and ask for a Johnny Cash song. He was one of my granny’s favorites.

  I toss a few dollars in her open guitar case. We lean on one of the railings on the small footbridge overlooking the water. We eat our ice cream in companionable silence and listen to the beautiful voice of the singer, the haunting lyrics of “I Walk the Line” casting a spell on me.

  Or maybe I’m enchanted by the peach and purple and pink streaks painting the sky in a watercolor haze. The sun blazes a fiery path on its westerly descent across the horizon. I’m entranced. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “No kidding.”

  I glance at him, but he’s not looking out at the sunset.

  The admiration in his eyes fires my blood.

  I stand on my toes and place my free hand on his strong chest. The muscles flex under my touch and desire boils to the surface, heating my skin.

  I can’t wait for dark, when we can find somewhere to be alone together.

  Chapter 5

  Thea

  Bright sun filters through the slats of the blinds in my bedroom, and I bolt upright, my stomach churning and heart racing.

  My last full day in Key West. Our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon.

  It’s been over a day since I last saw Shay. I’m selfish for being disappointed that my night with him had been cut short by an emergency call. Shay’s brother and their mom had been in a car accident on the way back from a visit to a doctor in Miami. Ed had been out on the boat and couldn’t be reached, so the police called Shay.