Blue: A Love Story on the Bermuda Shores

by Daya Daniels

  “I love the water.” He admits, looking out at the distance.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  He gives me a lazy smile when he catches me staring at his feet on the deck, that are only as attractive as the rest of him.

  “You fish every day?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.” He bobs his head and a laugh rumbles through him. “If I can help it. I sleep out here too when I can.”

  I giggle and sip the murky liquid in my cup.

  “You’re a photographer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice.”

  I scoff. “I don’t really make any money yet but I love what I do.”

  “Well, money isn’t everything.” He mutters.

  I give him a long look, meeting his remarkable amber orbs.

  “I’ve never had anyone tell me that.” I whisper. “Except, for my parents.”

  Nico laughs. “It’s true.”

  “You’re a fisherman?”

  He shrugs. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Nice.”

  His brows nearly reach his hairline as he cants forward, letting out a laugh. “Nice. I’ve never heard a woman say that one before. Usually, they’re turned off by the way I smell.”

  I giggle. “I’m sure you can take a shower.”

  “Yes, of course but you know...still. A career fisherman.” He makes a face. “It doesn’t exactly have all the women lining up for me.”

  I look this gorgeous specimen of a man over, accepting that I wouldn’t have even cared if he was on the back of a garbage collection truck. I force a smile and look away from his eyes that burn into mine.

  “Your accent?”

  He bobs his head a few times but still he doesn’t give it up.

  “You’re Bermudian?” He asks, redirecting the questioning.

  “Yep, born and bred. And you are...?”

  “I’m from a place called São Sebastião in Brazil.”

  “Ah.” I bob my head a few times, giving him a once over. “You’re Brazilian.”

  “Sim.” He says in Portuguese. “Yes.”

  “Interessante.” I laugh. “Interesting.”

  “You speak Portuguese?” He asks with a smirk.

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” He says playfully, taking a long gulp of his coffee. “I speak both Brazilian Portuguese, or Brasileiro, as some may call it and European Portuguese, which is what you speak.”

  I only nod, while his watchful eyes continue to look me over.

  “You know you could pass for a Brazilian woman, Cass.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Claro. Of course.”

  “Uh huh. Well, most people think I look strange. I get called all sorts of things from half-breed to light skin black girl to mulatto.” I laugh. “All sorts of shit.”

  Nico narrows his eyes at me and smirks. “You look Brazilian.” He declares firmly with a nod.

  “Okay.”

  The engines sputter as we trudge closer to Challenger Banks. The boat rocks and slow waves cause it to roll and drop. The relentless motion is relaxing to me, but I could see how it could cause someone to lose their All-American breakfast.

  Nico dashes into the cabin and the radio turns on. Luciano’s It’s Me Again Jah sounds statically from the speakers around the boat. I stand and peer into the door, watching him change out of his shorts and into a wetsuit. He holds a pair of flippers in his hands and gives me a smile.

  “You should come over with me.” He suggests, widening his eyes.

  I thumb the center of my chest. “Me?”

  “Sim, voce. Yes, you!” He laughs.

  “I-I. I don’t know. I didn’t plan to swim today.”

  “I have something you can wear.”

  “I’m here to take pictures.”

  Nico holds up a waterproof Kodak camera. “This should do.”

  I twist my face, covering my laughter with a hand over my mouth.

  “Believe it or not Cass, this thing takes great photographs.”

  I let out a soft breath.

  “I’m letting the anchor down!” Ambrose yells from above us.

  “Cool, man.” Nico mumbles under his breath.

  He rushes towards me and pulls me by the hand further into the cabin. I smell the remnants of fish and the salty ocean water that dusts his bronzed skin. When he stands directly in front of me, how tall he is sinks in. The size of him easily dwarfs my own frame. He’s at least six foot four and possibly two hundred and forty plus pounds.

  “Are you afraid to go out there? Is that it?” He questions with a jerk of his chin to the rolling ocean outside.

  I narrow my eyes, when I realize he’s taunting me. “No.” I say firmly.

  “You can swim. Yes?”

  “Of course, I can swim.” I quip, snatching the weightless camera out of his hands. “I was born on an island, surrounded by water.”

  Nico chuckles. “You won’t believe how many people born and raised on this island can’t swim.”

  I roll my eyes and run a hand through my now frizzy hair.

  He rummages around in a drawer and pulls out another wetsuit.

  “You can take everything off, or you can leave your bra and underwear on and put this on over.” He rattles out, passing everything to me.

  He grabs two fishing pole spears from off the wall and another pair of flippers and disappears out of the cabin, leaving me alone to change.

  “Fuck.” I mutter to myself.

  Nico

  I thought she would’ve protested more. I’m impressed.

  Cass emerges from the cabin. Her arms are up over her head, while she ties her long hair up in a messy bun. She approaches us barefoot, wearing a wetsuit. She still looks completely adorable. She squints her eyes under the sun and scans the deck of the boat.

  Ambrose stands off to our left, holding a Heineken in his hand and peers over the side of the boat.

  “'You’re going in, Cass?” He snickers. “I guess Nico convinced you.”

  Cass gives him a brittle smile and drops her hands to her sides, then pushes her feet into the flippers. I run my hand over her warm cheek, taking a wavy lock of her hair in between my fingers and tucking it behind her ears. Her breathing hitches and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes. They open in a flash and she backs away from me clearing her throat. I only chuckle at her receptiveness and hand her the fishing pole spear that she’ll be using.

  She takes it from me, avoiding my scrutinizing gaze. I pull off my shirt and take her hand, leading us towards the gate. I pull on the mask and snorkels for the both of us.

  “Man, this place is beautiful!” Ambrose shouts, heading up the ladder to get a better view of the ocean below. “I love this island.”

  I face Cass, peering into her heart-shaped face. She doesn’t look nervous or unsettled so it’s my guess she’s done this before.

  “Você está pronto? Are you ready?”

  She gives me a mischievous smirk. “Yes.”

  “Well, let’s go then.”

  We stand on the edge and at the count of three, we jump simultaneously into the blue water below.

  Cass let’s out a squeal that fades into the sound of the splash. The water is cool to me but I’m certain it’s freezing to her. She breathes heavily, wading her arms in front of her. Water trickles over her face and down to her pouty lips. I bob in front of her and let out a laugh.

  “It’s cold.” She pants out.

  “Just at first.” I say softly.

  “What are we looking for?”

  I make a face. “Whatever we find. I just want to barbeque later.”

  “Okay.” She says with a breathless laugh.

  “It’s not that deep here. We’re on top of a plateau.” I explain.

  “Come on.” I suggest, urging her to swim alongside me.

  When we make it far enough from the boat, we slip our masks on along with the snorkels. Cass grins at me around the base of the snorkel. I dip my head down to look at the
ocean beneath us. Vibrant colors explode all around us beneath the water, along with the endless variety of fish and coral reefs. When I lift my face from the surface of the water Cass is doing the same. The ocean rolls around us and the sound of the water slushing against the side of Ambrose’s boat fills my ears. Cass swims away from me and my heart leaps in my chest. I follow her, cutting through the water with each stroke of my arms and kick of my flippers. I give Ambrose a nod who is watching us from the boat with a hand in a salute over his eyes, shading them from the blazing sun. A wave and a whistle confirm everything is in place and all is well.

  Cass does an almost dolphin flip and disappears further into the sea beneath us. I only get a flash of her plump ass and her flippers before she’s swims away from me like a mermaid.

  I scramble to put my snorkel back in my mouth and follow behind her. I remain still allowing my body to drop beneath the surface. Cass is a short distance away, holding her pole spear. A red snapper wriggles on the end of it, that’s probably at least fifteen pounds. She gives me a gleaming smile when she sees me take in the fish with my eyes that struggles on the end of her spear.

  Instantly, I feel a challenge coming on.

  I pop above the water right before she does.

  “I told you, I knew how to do this!” She yells teasingly, swimming back for the boat.

  I let out a chuckle, attempting to hide my own embarrassment, since I thought I’d be coaching her through this. Ambrose meets Cass at the edge and pulls the fish off. They talk and laugh for a while, right before Cass swims away again. I squint my eyes at the sun, taking in that it must be close to lunch time. The water is warmer and the longtails fly overhead. Bob Marley’s Could You Be Loved blares from the speakers. Ambrose salutes me in the distance, holding another Heineken in his hand. I give him a wave. Cass has disappeared. I know soon, she’ll have another fish. I’m already behind. In a rush, I drop beneath the surface again like a man on a mission.

  Cassandra

  Crossing my feet at the ankle, I stare at the pale pink color that decorates my toenails. I wiggle my toes a little and stare out at the calm blue ocean ahead. The smell of burning cedar woodchips and the delectable scent of grilled fish, fills my nostrils. We’re docked off at Ely’s Harbor.

  After spearing a few red snappers and a wahoo, Nico and I swam for a little bit and then hopped back on the boat. I helped him and Ambrose to clean and gut a few of the smaller fish. The others we filleted. Ambrose opened a few beers and we’ve been sitting here for the past two hours, listening to music and staring out at the ocean in the distance. The smell of the ocean saturates my senses and the cool taste of beer on my tongue seeps into my brain. After being in the water, I’d almost forgotten why I was on this boat to begin with. I hadn’t taken one picture all day, despite being given an underwater camera.

  Bailando sung by Enrique Iglesias featuring Pitbull echoes from the speakers around me.

  Nico places a few shrimp skewers on the barbeque and removes some of the fish, placing more on. He lifts the top off a cooler and smirks. “You must take this home to your father.” He instructs, handing me a Ziploc bag of filled with raw fish.

  “Okay, thanks. He’d like that.”

  He nods and drops the bag back in the cooler.

  “Nico, are you going out tomorrow?” Ambrose yells.

  Nico shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I haven’t checked the weather.”

  “What does the shark oil say?” Ambrose asks.

  A groan leaves Nico’s throat. “It’s clear. You know there is no science behind this thing, right.” He grumbles, gripping the sealed bottle of shark oil that doubles as a homemade barometer.

  Ambrose laughs. “Maybe. But since I was a boy, it’s been reliable.” He smiles.

  It was tradition that old-time Bermudians keep a sealed bottle of shark oil from a puppy shark strung upside down outside. Ambrose kept the one on Reel Talk just outside the cabin door. If the oil in the bottle stays clear, it means the weather will be clear. If the oil turns a milky white color, you’re supposed to look out for hurricane approaching weather.

  “Another way.” Ambrose yells. “To see if a hurricane is looming is to watch and see if the silk spiders around here are spinning their webs closer to the ground.”

  Nico rolls his eyes and groans. “You know we have radar now, right and The Weather Channel? Besides, it isn’t hurricane season.”

  I laugh, realizing that Nico doesn’t believe in a thing Ambrose is telling him.

  Nico dances a little to the music. Then he sings. I focus on the entrancing slow sway of his hips, until Ambrose shimmies across the deck. I can’t tell you how many beers he’s had today but I’m certain he’s close to hitting his mark of making the one in his hand, his very-last-one.

  “Come and dance, Cass.” He urges.

  I grumble and rise from my seat. Ambrose snatches my hand and we salsa around the deck, careful to avoid the simmering barbeque. I reek of fish, beer and salt water. My hair is everywhere and some of the skin on my shoulders feels like it’s been ignited.

  “Cass, it’s nice to see you laughing!” Ambrose thunders.

  I narrow my eyes at him but smile anyways.

  “You have to live a little. Quitting a job isn’t the end of the world, honey.”

  “I know.” I whine. “But things are different now.”

  Ambrose spins me with finesse in his arms. “You’ll live, Cass besides sometimes with change, there’s better things in store.”

  I frown and sway with him as he places a hand on my lower back.

  “Like what?” I ask flatly, desperate for him to amuse me.

  The old man lifts a finger and pulls away from me. “Another beer.” He says without answering.

  I giggle, watching him stumble away from me to the cooler in the corner. When I spin around, Nico is standing directly in front of me. Without speaking, he offers me his hand. I meet his eyes and purse my lips, debating. He gives me an endearing smile that disarms my hesitation, so I place my hands in his larger, warmer ones. Like clockwork, the music changes to something slow and sexy, instantly changing the mood.

  Fuck.

  We sway to the unhurried tune of Wine Slow by Gyptian.

  The humpable man in front of me only holds me as close as I will allow. Over his shoulder, I spot Ambrose, who has disappeared to the front of the boat. He plops down on one of the coolers and lights a cigarette seeming in his own world. The sun is setting, turning the sky spectacular shades of pink and orange all around us.

  I meet Nico’s eyes again and drop my gaze. He doesn’t speak, only stares at me with those bronze eyes of his that I could get lost in. He splays his hand across my back in a move that instantly warms me and pulls me closer to him. His soft breaths puff against my face and I breathe him in and nearly melt against his hard body. I drag my fingers over his shoulders and down his arms, while he only smiles at the affection. I chuckle, accepting that I might be a little drunk. It had been so long since I had this.

  “Did you have fun today?”

  “I did.” I whisper.

  “Good. Do you live far from here?”

  “No, maybe a five-minute drive away.”

  “Oh.” He says.

  “Do you?” I ask him.

  Nico laughs softly. “Nope, I live on this boat most of the time when I’m here.”

  I giggle. “Seriously.”

  “Yeah.” He breathes out.

  “I thought you were joking when you said that earlier.”

  “Nope, no joke Cass.”

  “Okay, then. Do you think you’ll be here a while?”

  “Yeah.” He says, looking out to the ocean.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” I murmur.

  The corners of Nico’s supple mouth twitch up into a small smile. “Nope. Why are you interested?”

  I laugh. “I was just wondering.”

  He huffs and runs his fingers along the line of my spine. My back instantly bows at the sensati
on.

  Dangerous.

  He giggles at my reaction. I’m embarrassed by what his touch does to me.

  I barely know this man!

  “I’m sorry.” He mumbles, holding me again. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  I snort a laugh. “No.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  Nico jerks me in his grasp, urging me to spit it out. “What is it?”

  “I’m not exactly girlfriend material.”

  “Oh.” His tone is soft. “I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”

  We both laugh, still swaying to the low sound of the radio and the high-pitched sound of the crickets around us. Ambrose has fallen asleep, with his legs propped up on a chair.

  “Maybe we can be friends then.” He offers.

  I lift a shoulder. “That’ll be cool.”

  “You reallly live on this boat?” I ask, while scanning the wooden disaster that surprisingly hasn’t sunk yet.

  “Yes, my bike is over there.” He points to a matte black Honda CBR-125, that’s parked just under a big poinciana tree in the lot.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you need me to take you home?”

  “No, it’s okay. Thanks, but my sister is coming to get me in a bit.”

  Nico nods. “We should eat then.”

  “Yeah, we should.”

  Nico

  This woman is beautiful. Cass takes a seat across from me at the rickety table I sit at. She glances everywhere besides at my face for a moment, underneath the dim light that’s surrounded by moths. Her wavy hair is all over the place and her eyes are tired but she still looks flawless. She takes a grilled shrimp in between her fingers and nibbles on it. I eat some of the fish that’s been expertly seasoned up but I can’t take my eyes off her.

  “Ambrose might be hungry.”

  I chuckle. “He’s out for a while I think.”

  Cass smiles.

  “Who was he?” I ask, when she puts a piece of the fish in her mouth.

  She freezes and gives me a funny stare.

  “You know who I’m talking about.” I rattle out, annoyed that’s she’s playing dumb to my question.

  This woman is guarded.