“Drug rehab,” she hissed. “I’m a drug addict. I don’t have an alcohol problem.”
“You have enough problems to sink this boat. Don’t go making alcohol one of them.”
“My God,” Canna sighed. “Claudio, I had no idea you were so ordinary.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one is ordinary here, Claudio. Certainly not me. I would rather be a drug addict than be ordinary. Shape up or move on.”
Canna pulled her arm from his hand and moved her way back through the crowd. She soon found someone more than happy to kiss her hello and want her attention. Everyone wanted Canna’s attention. She was young, pretty and rich. If she lost the money, her position in life, then she would be nothing. Ordinary. Her greatest fear. She glanced up from her friend, to see Claudio walk up the ramp and off the marina, in the direction of the hotel across the street. Why couldn’t he just leave her to relax instead of shoving her demons in her face? No one treated her as ordinary. She glanced at the bottle in her hand; her desires to make mistakes were stronger than her desire to be well, and she knew it.
Claudio watched Canna for hours out the window of the hotel as she moved between the guys on the boat. It was late before the party packed up, and they headed into the yacht club, which would be overrun with the noise of drunken sailors. Claudio watched Canna, the last one on the dock. He watched her wander around her boat, tidying and packing away heavy equipment. God, she was strong. Physically, anyway. He watched her walk; she was drunk. She stumbled every so often and was alone on the poorly-lit dock. It was as if she invited trouble, trouble no woman deserved.
The security guard at the top of the marina recognised Claudio in his crew uniform and let him through the gate and back to the boat. Canna was at the far end, fussing with the huge cover for the barbecue. She had mastered fitting it on by the time Claudio reached her, and hadn’t seen him approach until he was right behind her.
“The party has moved on,” Canna said when she saw him. She sniffed and wriggled her nose; her stud obviously annoyed her.
“I know.”
“You can carry on with them. I’m paying for the drinks.”
“I’m not interested in your money.”
“Everyone’s interested my money, Claudio!” she yelled. Her voice echoed out over the calm dark water beyond her. “Everyone is interested in me, except you!”
Claudio glanced over his shoulder, but the other boats were dark and empty. “You’re like them, capable and skilled. But you are also rich. You’re a fascination to men. They see what they can gain from you. Money. Fun. Sex.”
“We’re all using each other, one way or another.”
“Then tell me, how are you using me?”
Canna climbed the steps back up to the yacht deck and turned back to face him. She flicked her hair back from her face and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know.”
“But you said everyone uses someone.”
“I used to use you.”
“I know.”
“You were my fun non-sexual affair.”
“I know you were playing me. I liked it.”
“Then why are you arguing? I am who I am.”
“I’m aware.” Claudio paused and put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “That’s what worries me.”
“I can handle drinking.”
“You’re a binge drinker, Blinky. That’s not okay. It may not be a ‘bourbon for breakfast’ problem, but you’re not in control of yourself yet.”
“I’m fine. Don’t pretend to be my saviour.”
“Permission to board, captain?”
Canna shrugged and folded her arms tight.
Claudio climbed the few stairs and stepped over the wire lifeline around the deck. “Canna, I’m sorry.” He watched Canna turn away from him.
“Do you think I don’t know what it’s like to have to deal with me? I want to scream. Scream until the back of my throat burns like the fiery depths of hell. I know how hot that is because I live there. I’m trapped in a body that betrays me, trapped in a mind that holds me captive and shuts everyone else out. It’s a private, silent hell. I want to shake something until it rips from the wall, leaving it battered, broken and ruined, so it looks like me. I could stab myself, to feel the pain, but my heart does it for me. It reminds me every hour or so that I’m broken, by stabbing a pain through my chest, making me feel every painful vein and its desire to burst from me and break free.”
“Then call me when it happens! Canna, I love you, and nothing could shock me now. You’re just out of drug rehab, and you’re depressed, and it’s okay to need help.”
“There is no moment to scream and shake. I step out into the world every day, and try to pretend I’m not broken. Every single thing I see, I do, I feel, reminds me that this isn’t real life. I exist in a world where no one has any idea of the fire that burns inside me. No one cares or notices. It’s hard to hold in my anger and sadness. I have to be the rich Count’s wife because no one cares about who I really am. I’m broken, and I know it.”
“Catherine, you’re suffering from depression. It’s normal after everything you’ve been through this year. Giuseppe’s death, Marino’s death, Daniel’s death… people who, right or wrong, were significant to you. But I’m still here.”
“You and I aren’t who we used to be.”
“Why?”
“When we had an affair, I had nothing to prove. We had no future, no matter how much I loved you. But now that we’re seeing each other, there is so much added pressure to impress. Yours is still the phone number I have, and you always listen to me. I can’t always admit how I feel because I want you to love me, and to be proud of me. I need to hold back certain things. In the end, everyone is alone. You aren’t that emotionally distanced guy who listens anymore. I can hear the old you, somewhere in the distance, but now I can only imagine what he might say. I can hear his footsteps on the floorboards that I can’t walk along anymore. I can see his hands, but they won’t touch me. I promised him that I was in charge now and that I could stand alone and take care of everything and everyone. All the time. Every. Single. Day. And now I have to honour that promise.”
“Blinky, I haven’t changed. You haven’t changed. You’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re overwhelmed while trying to recover from your addiction, but you’re not broken.”
“I am. I understand what feels like to be happy because I’m broken. Happiness feels like sitting in the warm sun in total silence. Most people think they’re happy, but don’t have that feeling in them, in their minds, on their skin. They can’t understand it because they have never felt the coldness of misery. I don’t know what it means to be ordinary because I’m broken. Being ordinary breeds ignorance. Ignorance is cozy, and cozy isn’t something I have experienced yet. Life provides me with no safety net. I’m emotionally broken. Life is a fight, and I have my boxing gloves. I leave them on.”
“I thought you were happy to be here.”
“I am.”
“Then take the gloves off because no one is going to hurt you.”
“You don’t understand how I feel.”
“If you lose your sanity, your confidence or your control over yourself, I won’t think less of you.”
“Everyone else would.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I would be fine without you.”
“And that terrifies me.”
Canna looked up, and Claudio saw her silent tears. “Why?”
“Do you think you’re the only one who ever feels scared, or overwhelmed? Every time I see you with another man, no matter who he is, I feel jealousy and rage because they are near you and I’m not. You produce an anger in me that never goes away, like a fire in my belly.”
“Then you should stay away from me. Two other men said that, and now they’re both dead. Dane, your best friend, said it too. You saw how I destroyed that man.”
“With my help. Canna, if you numb yourself with alcohol
, I will forgive you, but I won’t support you. If you hurt yourself, or cut yourself, I will bandage you up, like I always have, as a friend or as a lover.”
“Don’t you get tired of being so damn supportive?”
“I know I would get the same support in return. I can’t live without you, Blinky.”
“Christ. It was a few drinks! You’re holding on to me too tight.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
“Then stop using your insecurities to stop me having a good time. I came here to decompress. Didn’t you do the same?”
“Yes. But I want to help you, too.”
“I spent months in rehab, and you weren’t there for me. You can’t stick your nose into my rehab now.”
“That’s mean. I’m the one who stuck with you as you tried to get off morphine…”
“You should make a run for it. Save yourself from me.”
“No. I’m too selfish. I’m not leaving you alone. I want you. It’s been like that since I day we met.”
“I’m stuck with you, then.”
“You bet. Can we make a truce now?”
Canna held her hands up in defeat and Claudio beckoned her over to him. “Come on,” he said as she came to him. “That’s enough feelings and anger for one day. Let’s go to the hotel. We need to sober you up for tomorrow.”
“I was thinking I could pass out on the bed and worry about looking human in the morning.”
“It’s more your style.”
“Yep.”
“Blinky, you have a mental illness. You’re having a manic episode. You know that, don’t you?”
“A few drinks and I am automatically crazy?”
“You can deny it all you like, but what you’re explaining, it’s not normal. You can be helped. Everything passes.”
Canna had her lips pursed and didn’t say a word, but Claudio could tell she was thinking about what he said.
“Canna, talk to me.”
“No.”
“Then come back to the hotel. At least that way you’re safe. In the morning, we can start again.”
“I would rather be on my own.”
“No.” Claudio reached out and took her arm, but she fought him. “I said no!” she cried, unaware she had now caught the attention of the security guards at the end of the dock.
“Damn it, you stupid girl, do as you’re bloody told!” Claudio grabbed her arm and shook her. Then he saw her face; he had frightened her. Claudio dropped Canna’s arm in an instant, upset at what he had done.
“You bastards can be all the same at times.” Canna took a few steps back from him.
“Don’t start that shit. Don’t compare me to your husband.”
“I assure you that I’m not. You’re not half as complicated as Giuseppe.”
Claudio rolled his eyes. The man had been dead for months. “You’re a prime example of an unloved child.”
“Fine, whatever, leave me alone.” Canna stepped back and over the knee-high lifeline that wound around the outer edge of the deck.
“Catherine, for fucks sake.”
“For fucks sake, what?” Canna leaned back and disappeared, the splash enveloping her.
Claudio scrambled to the other side of the boat and looked down at the dark water - nothing but ripples in the abyss. He glanced back into the light and then back down to the black water. “CANNA!” he cried. Jesus, she had all the buoyancy of a brick. What the hell could he do? He glanced back and saw two security guards running down the dock.
Canna burst up through the water and cried out at the top of her lungs. Claudio fell back from his position leaning over the boat, shocked to see her spring out of the dark water. He grabbed his chest as she lifted herself out of the water and rested her chin on the edge of the deck. “Gotcha,” she said with a smile.
“Is everything all right here?” one the guards called from on the other side of the boat.
“I’m not sure,” Canna called back as she pulled her soaking body up on board. “Is everything all right?” she asked Claudio.
“Ah… everything’s fine,” Claudio stuttered.
“Is it?” the other guard asked.
Canna stood up and pulled off her soaking wet shirt, her bra and skin just as wet. “Shit happens.”
Claudio watched the two guards smile, and he scowled. “We’re fine,” he barked. “Leave us be.”
The two guys shuffled back up the marina again. Both men looked back to steal glances at the shirtless woman dripping on her boat.
“Fucking hell, Blinky,” Claudio snapped. “They think I was hurting you.”
“Weren’t you?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you were doing?”
“They thought I hit you, or forced you into something, or tossed you off the boat!”
“Calm down.”
“No! They thought I was some prick who hurt the lady that nicely showed her tits to them!”
“Don’t use that word.”
“Of all the filthy things that come out of your mouth, it’s tits that bothers you?”
“Yeah. My body parts are not up for discussion.”
“Yet you are happy to show them off.”
Canna stormed past Claudio and down below deck. Claudio trailed after her, to find her with a bag full of uniform. She pulled out a much too large t-shirt and forced it over her head. The white fabric soaked up remaining drops, her blue bra visible through the fabric.
“If only for one night,” she muttered.
“What?”
“If only I could be normal for one night, just be able to have a drink and laugh with friends, and not be the freak who can’t keep herself together.”
“I very much doubt you are the first drunk to fall off a boat in this marina.”
Canna chuckled. “Fuck no, it happens all the time.”
“I thought my heart had stopped.”
“I can swim. I can hold my breath underwater for a long time. I like the dizzy sensation that the lack of oxygen brings.”
“That dizziness is tiny parts of you dying.”
“Bullshit.”
“Catherine, I’m going back to the hotel room now. I want you to come with me. You can continue to hate me. We can continue to argue, or we can do nothing. But at least I’ll know you’re safe.”
“Why? I’m an asshole.”
“But you’re my asshole. Come on, before the others come back from the yacht club. You don’t need to be in their company.”
“They wouldn’t do me any harm.”
Claudio sighed. “As you said, we can only be friends in front of everyone. Maintain your good image. Don’t come back to the room as my lover, come back as the friend of an emotionally unavailable guy whose company you enjoy. I miss my emotionally distanced friend at the fountain in London, too. Don’t think this situation is easy for me. In movies, couples get together and everything is perfect. Real life is hard.”
“At least with arguing we get the truth out there.”
“Don’t spin our arguments into something beneficial.”
“Why not?”
“Baby steps, Blinky. You’re so messed up; it’s going to take time to be normal.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“You’re worth the trouble.” Claudio put both hands to her face and held her tight, her eyes on his. “Canna, your bipolar condition isn’t under control. You’re in the middle of another mixed affective state. Your bipolar disorder is swinging between hypomanic and depressive states. You’re in public. People will find out that you’re crazy if you don’t shut up right now.” He watched her take a few deep breaths. It sounded mean, but looking perfect meant so much to her. Threatening her with looking flawed might calm the situation. “You must stop this behaviour. Right now.”
Canna nodded her head, and he let her go. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Come on, let’s deal with this in private.”
Canna nodded again and he led her back up on deck. She had weakened, allowing him to
be in control of her. Canna had no idea Claudio didn’t have any control over the situation, despite the fact he understood her current mental state.
CHAPTER 5
MALTA
Morning. Claudio was reluctant to wake. He got Canna back to the hotel after her little breakdown, and she stripped off her wet clothes and passed out. Shit, talking about feelings was awful. When Claudio opened his eyes, he discovered a new problem; Canna wasn’t even in the bed. He rolled over and looked at the clock – 06:30.
He looked out the window. Vincitore blocked the view with a huge sail up its mast. Claudio noticed a man in a harness halfway up the mast, examining the dark fabric, and various others around the boat looked up at the guy. There stood Canna, with her face covered by her sunglasses. Her head must have felt like hell. She stood with a man that Claudio couldn’t recognise. This man put his arm around Canna, but Claudio stood too far away to gauge her reaction.
A quick shower and change into his uniform, and Claudio made his way along the dock. The guards on duty were different men to last night. Last night, the guards smirked when Claudio pulled Canna off the dock. They looked at him like a guy who preyed on drunk women.
Claudio approached the boat, and a few of the guys greeted him. Canna hadn’t seen him on the dock next to the yacht, so he decided to wait instead of saying a word.
“Can we pull this sail down and put up the number one jib instead?” Canna asked the guys, who nodded in reply. “I have a feeling we are going to be using it a lot.”
Everyone jumped into place as the sail came down and they helped to fold it away again. It took several minutes to put one away and pull out another sail. Out of the corner of her eye, Canna was aware of Claudio on the dock.
“Who is that?” Yuri leaned over and asked in her ear, like he always did.
Canna sighed, and gestured Claudio to come forward. “This is my guest on board,” Canna said as Claudio jumped on deck. “Yuri Dementyev, meet Claudio Ramos Ibáñez. Yuri is the skipper of the boat, and my business partner at Savelli Marine. Claudio is a friend of mine, and an in-demand opera singer.”
“I know,” Yuri remarked as he took Claudio’s outstretched hand. “My last girlfriend, she was a fan. She saw your Moscow show last spring.”
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