Blue: A Love Story on the Bermuda Shores

by Daya Daniels

  Cautious. Vulnerable. Hurt.

  Like me.

  I know a burned one when I see it. The way she melts at my touch, as if her body responds and then her brain kicks in makes me curious. So curious. She’s so responsive to everything I do to her, which tells me everything I need to know about Cass. Nearly everything. This woman is undoubtedly long overdue for a good shafting.

  She fiddles with her water bottle that’s now empty and stares at the table, clearly deep in thought. Stalling.

  I settle back into my chair, spinning my beer bottle in place waiting for her to speak.

  “I’ve just met you.” She says in a hushed tone.

  I only groan, take a long gulp of the foamy liquid and place the bottle back down. I meet her eyes again and she sighs.

  I want to know all of this woman’s secrets.

  “His name was Rupert.”

  At that, I explode into laughter.

  Cass giggles. “What?”

  “Even his name sounds ridiculous. I don’t think I need to hear anymore. His name says it all.”

  Her brows cinch and she reaches across the table to whack me in the arm. I dip out of the way of the playful assault.

  It’s quiet while we stare up at the sky, taking in that the stars have now revealed themselves and a full moon looms overhead, casting the ocean silver in places. I stretch out, kicking my feet up on the side of the boat. Cass’ eyes follow the movement. I try to ignore that she’s checking me out. I can’t say I hate it.

  The sigh that leaves her mouth makes me want to hold her.

  “He broke up with me.”

  I only look in her direction, while she fiddles with her fingers.

  “I thought he loved me but it was conditional.”

  “Upon what?”

  Cass huffs. “A fancy job and all the trimmings that go along with it – the money, the upper crust friends and their elitist social circle. I don’t fit in with them anymore.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It took all of this happening for me to realize what kind of assholes they were to begin with. I don’t think I knew before. I was so caught up in their web of bullshit.”

  I give her another nod. “Did you love this Rupert?”

  “I did.” She squeaks.

  “Do you still love him?”

  “No.” She breathes out. “He already has a new girlfriend.”

  “So, is that what you meant when you said you aren’t girlfriend material?”

  Cass’ eyes go wide. She lets out an exhausted breath and ruffles her thick hair. “Sort of.”

  I run a hand over my jaw and narrow my eyes, sitting forward again. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, I’m unemployed and I live with my parents.” She cranes her neck up to the sky. “And in a few months, I’ll probably be broke-as-a joke.”

  I let out a soft laugh.

  “I’m starting over and it hasn’t been easy, not to mention the blow that I’ve taken to my self-esteem after being dumped and having to move back in with my parents.”

  “I understand.”

  Cass giggles and fiddles with the hem of her shirt.

  “But you love what you do now?”

  “Yes.” She says as her eyes light up. “I don’t know if I can make it a solid career.”

  “You can.”

  “But -.”

  “You can.” I repeat firmly.

  “Ambrose has helped to get me a few gigs with the America’s Cup being here this year and all. Hopefully, I’ll be booked out for work.”

  “That’s good.”

  I place my hand over hers, caressing the soft skin there, fiddling with her fingers occasionally. Testing. Teasing. Tormented. Fascinated by how this woman’s mere presence draws me in to her.

  Cass’ lips part but she doesn’t pull away from me. She’s soft as a peach and warm and I force myself not to inch any closer. I’d be tempted to yank her from the chair into my lap, introducing her to the raging hard-on that’s crawling down the inside of my thigh.

  “I didn’t take one single picture today.” She reminds me, closely observing my skin against her own.

  I make small circles on the top of her hand with two of my fingers.

  Soft. Inviting. More. Mine.

  “I guess you’ll have to come back tomorrow then.” I suggest.

  I want this woman’s legs wrapped around my waist - preferably, while she’s naked. I want to rid her worried mind of every piece of shit, vanilla boyfriend she used to have. Crawl into her mind and ease it. Soothe her soul. Caress her heart. Tether her to me in some inexplicable way.

  Cass smiles but it’s shy and unsure. She looks at me with those pensive eyes. “Will you be here?”

  I only nod and sit farther forward, running my hand up the length of her arm – from wrist to shoulder. Instinctively, she cants forward when I slip my hands in her thick, wild hair, feeling the soft strands. Her eyes fall closed at the sensation and then just as swiftly, she bolts from the chair to an unsteady standing position, swatting at her clothes and attempting to brush off all the lust dust that I’ve mentally sprinkled on her skin.

  Pushing out of the chair and up to my feet, I throw my hands up in surrender and rake my fingers through my hair, letting both of my hands settle on the back of my neck.

  “I’m sorry.” She babbles out.

  I take in the sight of her nipples that have pebbled underneath the thin white tank she’s wearing.

  “No, I’m sorry.” I counter, not entirely sure if I even know what the fuck I’m doing.

  Cass nervously fingers through her hair and then hugs herself. I reach out a hand, clutching her forearm pulling her small body towards me.

  “I’m sorry.” I repeat in a whisper.

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. It’s me. I’m sorry. It was nice.”

  I narrow my eyes at her admission, hoping she can’t see the primal hunger in them under the cover of darkness. “Of course, it was.”

  She smiles.

  A car pulls in. It circles the parking lot before stopping completely and then its headlights flash.

  “That’s my ride.” She says glancing over her shoulder, preparing to gather her things.

  “You’ll be here tomorrow?”

  “Yep, always. If the boat isn’t here at the wharf. It’s out there.” I tell her pointing towards the ocean. “It’s not always against the wharf like it is now but that little boat over there, can get you to it if need be.” I tell her, gesturing towards a small punt that floats near the wharf.

  “Okay.”

  Cass reaches a hand out. I only laugh and grab it, pulling her into me. She crashes into my chest and I hold her in my embrace, feeling her warmth, while a small moan leaves her lips.

  More.

  More.

  More.

  Her eyes meet mine but she doesn’t speak. We only stare for a long moment, until the toot of the car horn in the distance sounds again jolting us out of the eye-fuck we seem to be stuck in.

  “It was nice to meet you, Nico.” She whispers, before heading away from me.

  I don’t respond to her statement that sounds like a goodbye. Instead, I watch her leave, taking in the sight of her curvy ass when she bends over to pick up her bags and keep my eyes on the sway of it when she takes the concrete stairs.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say with a nod.

  Cass gives me a wave. Then, she’s gone.

  Cassandra

  I tip toe across the gravelly parking lot, towards the blue Hyundai station wagon that’s waiting there for me. My sister, Symone sits in the driver’s seat giving me a glare under the one street light that softly illuminates the entire area.

  “You look a hot mess.” She grumbles, craning her neck to look towards the boat behind me.

  I run a hand through my hair that truly is everywhere besides where it should be and pad around to the passenger seat, opening the door. I dip down and sit inside.

  “And you stink.”
>
  “I’m sorry. I’ve been fishing.” I tell her.

  Symone gives me a sidelong glance, twisting her face as if she smells something rotten. “Fishing.”

  “Yeah, fishing.”

  Symone angrily puts the car in the drive and then we head out onto the road. I eye her attire with a giggle. She’s wearing a suit and three-inch block heels. Her hair is up in the conservative bun I became so used to myself and her thin glasses teeter on the edge of her nose.

  “I thought you were supposed to be taking pictures of Ambrose’s boat.” She says, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the car maneuvers along the narrow winding roads, heading west.

  “I am.”

  Symone laughs. “Who is that guy I just saw?”

  “He works with Ambrose. He’s living on his boat.”

  She gives me a snarl and chides. “Cass.”

  “What?” I breathe out.

  She shakes her head and I know she’s about to give me a warning. “I wasn’t a big fan of Rupert, you know that but I don’t want you involved with some fisherman. Does he have another job?”

  “It doesn’t matter Symone, it isn’t like that.” I laugh softly. “I just met him. We were just talking.”

  I meet her brown eyes again and stare out the window when we pass St. James’ Church. There’s a church on every street corner on this island. They’re as common as the liquor stores and the golf courses.

  It’s quiet for a while, while we listen to the radio. The soulful tune Over You by Rickai featuring Jelani plays, while I sing along. Symone focuses on the road as we near the house.

  “He’s hot.” She admits. “That fisherman guy is hot.”

  “You’re so dopey.” I giggle and then we’re both laughing together.

  “I’m interested to know what he looks like in the daylight.”

  “Even better.” I add with a moan.

  Symone chuckles.

  “He’s a fisherman.” She reminds me.

  “I know.” I whisper. “But I don’t think I care. At least he has a job, which is more than I can say for myself.” I smile.

  “Cass.”

  “Why are you being so judgmental anyways? You don’t even know the guy.”

  Another sigh leaves her mouth. “I don’t want to you getting hurt again, Cass. And the only thing worse than being hurt, is simply being disappointed.”

  I nod. “Well, I couldn’t be more hurt or disappointed than I already am. So, there’s that.”

  “You’ll always be a barrister, Cass. You can go back. It isn’t too late.”

  I suppress a small laugh. “I’d rather eat glass, Symone. I’d rather chew it up slowly, spit it out and eat it again than do that.”

  The car comes to a stop and I stare at the canary yellow house that I’ve called home most of my life. Symone pulls up the handbrake and gives me a sidelong glance.

  “You know Mama and Papai, put this house on the line for your education - mine too. We should be working towards paying them back and making sure they’re comfortable in their retirement.”

  Even though Symone is older than me, we both left for school at the same time. She headed to Atlanta and I went to London. We’d both graduated the same year with our respective degrees and then found jobs. Now, she’s a public relations consultant. It’s a job she loves and I respect her for it.

  “Newsflash, Symone.” I laugh. “I’ve already paid them back. Maybe you’re the one who needs to work on that.”

  I grab the door handle and ease out of the car, taking my fishy bags with me.

  Cassandra

  “What is this?” Joseph smiles holding up the huge Ziploc bag full of wahoo and snapper.

  “Fish.”

  “Muito agradável. Very nice.” He says, placing a kiss on my cheek.

  “Ambrose?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I went out on his boat today.”

  “Ambrose caught all this alone?” He questions, letting out a light chuckle.

  I laugh. “No, he had a friend with him and I helped of course.”

  “Okay.” He whispers, moving around the kitchen. “Who’s the friend?”

  “Just some guy. He isn’t from here. He’s Brazilian.”

  “Oh, Brazilian.” Symone chimes in from across the room. “That explains the tan I suppose.”

  “How on earth could you even see he has a tan, Symone? It was friggin’ dark. Besides, I think that’s just the color he is.”

  She lifts her brows and goes back to sifting through the pile of papers in front of her.

  “I can do the flour.” I tell my father, reaching for the seasonings. “I’ll cook it up.”

  He nods and heads back in the den to sit on the couch. A Primeira Liga soccer game blares from the LED TV that sits above the fireplace.

  “Whatcha gals, doin’?” My mother Ayana demands to know, when she enters the kitchen.

  She places a kiss on both of our cheeks, then rattles off a few questions to Symone that I don’t care to concern myself with. When Ayana gets upset, she talks even faster which at times can make it even more difficult for people to understand her through her thick Trini accent.

  “I did do it, Mama.” Symone says raising her voice.

  They proceed to argue about God knows what, while I roll my eyes and prepare the fish. I gaze out the window, taking in the calm water and the street lamps in the distance. From where we live, we have a unobstructed view of the Watford Bridge which connects Somerset Island to Boaz Island.

  I cut all the raw fish into bite-size pieces and toss it into an egg wash and then a flour batter that I’ve prepared. I drop each piece in hot olive oil and watch it fry.

  “I told you, Symone...” Ayana shouts.

  “Hey! Hey!” Joseph calls out from the den. “I’m trying to watch this game. Not right now, you two!”

  I crane my neck towards the ceiling and take a deep breath, while the bickering continues. I breathe in the scent of the frying fish. My stomach grumbles despite the fact that I ate a bit already earlier.

  “You always think you’re right.” Symone snaps.

  “I do?” Ayana asks, while her voice lifts an octave. “I am your mother. Of course, I’m right!”

  “Oh, whatever.” Symone mumbles.

  “Girlll, dat’s your problem. You always want to do what d’hell you want!” Ayana shouts.

  It starts to get loud. My father stands and attempts to break up the disagreement. Soon, Ayana is talking even faster and Joseph is shouting in Portuguese. Symone’s responses alternate between English and Portuguese. Then Ayana begins to respond in Portuguese.

  This. Is. Crazy.

  “Oh my God.” I whisper.

  It had been this way all my life. Symone and Ayana argued, while my father and I simply stayed out of it.

  “She’s disrespectful! She’s sooo disrespectful, Joseph. I should mash her up!” Ayana yells.

  I click on the radio, hoping to drown out the noise. Lose It by Oh Wonder plays. I sing along to the tune dancing a little, while sifting the fish in the flour and dropping it in the oil by the handful.

  Symone places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m out of here, Cass.” She says grabbing her car keys.

  “Okay.” I say softly, giving her a sympathetic glance.

  Cassandra

  It’s late and the house is quiet. Joseph sits across from me, sipping from a bottle a Sagres and flipping through The Royal Gazette. We eat the fish I prepared with a green salad on the side. Ayana had already escaped off to bed. Joseph takes occasional glances across the table at me over his eyeglasses.

  I eat at a snail’s pace, attempting to ignore his questioning stares.

  “You’re a little sunburnt.” He says in his thick Portuguese accent that’s stuck with him, even though he’s been on this island for over forty years.

  “I know, Papai.” I say calling him Dad in Portuguese.

  Joseph takes a deep breath and closes the paper. He reaches across the table and takes my free hand in
his but he doesn’t speak. He only holds it. I meet his green eyes and giggle.

  “What, Papai?”

  “Nothing.” He whispers. “I don’t know. I love having you back home. We love having you back home.”

  I huff. “I’m a little old to be here, don’t you think?”

  Joseph sucks his teeth. “You’re never too old to be here, Cass. We’re family. You’re my daughter. Don’t you understand what that means?”

  I drop my head and stab a few green leaves with my fork but I don’t respond. Joseph yanks my arm a little getting my attention.

  “It means, Cass that we love you no matter what. We support you no matter what. That’s what it means. When I’m dead and gone, all of this will belong to you and Symone. I guess it makes no difference if you live here now or later.”

  I whine and brush my hair away from my face.

  “What if everything I’m doing is crazy, Papai?”

  “How so?” He snaps.

  I shrug.

  “Cass, if you gave up your career to do something dumb, we’d tell you, believe me but your work as a photographer is good. It’s really, really good. You have a talent, that many others can’t say they have.”

  I smile and feel my eyes growing wet.

  “I just don’t like what I see in your features these days sometimes. I see unhappiness and I don’t want my little girl to be sad.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll make it, Papai and if I don’t I’ll be a double failure. In fact, I’ll have failed at everything.”

  “Says who, Cass?”

  “I don’t know.” I whisper.

  “The only opinions that should matter to you are the ones from people that push you on – the ones that support you. The rest of them can fuck off, Cass.” He whispers the last part, making me giggle.

  He lets go of my hand and continues to eat.

  “You know when I first came here from the Azores forty years ago, my father and I had nothing. We had nothing. No money. No land. No education. We could barely speak English. Some people weren’t very accepting of us being here.

  “All my father had was his bare hands and he used them to make money. We took whatever jobs that were offered to us. Anything! We worked construction, gardening, landscaping. We built boats. We did it all. We saved our money and we worked like dogs.