Sunrise with Eggs Benedict

Here I am. Ready. My breakfast is perfect as is my own brew of iced tea. The light grows to illuminate the greenery on the backside of the hills. And then…it’s there. The sunrise over St. Thomas is glorious. An overused word, when describing sunrises, I’m sure. But nonetheless applicable. Glorious. Glorious. Glorious. I mean, like, glory, glory, sock-it-to-ya, beautiful. Especially here and now.

After excruciating hours of being seasick on my first ship to the point of upchucking blood, the Navy had me on “the patch” for every underway period after. I remember coming into port and throwing the patch away since we’d be in for a while. It was twelve hours before it’s side affects went away. I realized it was taking longer and longer to clear the drug from my system.

But here and now, the Seakeeper maintains an even keel for me and my yacht. Sheesh. Yacht. Not a boat. Not a ship. Not a dingy. A yacht. I run my hand on wood trim of the flying bridge’s dining table. The embedded brass strips catch the rising sun’s rays. I put on my sunglasses and unconsciously move their case to be parallel to the brass. Then I smile, when I recognize what I did. Everything in its place. And the eggs Benedict in my stomach. Make mine a double.

And I had. I made myself a double order. Because I could. Stacy the cook/therapist/navigator had taught me how to poach an egg. So I let her and the other crew members sleep in and made my own. They’d taken good care of me. They’d also have to work a bit more when we headed out to sea. But at anchor, in the bay just Southwest of the island, I was good on my own.

 I guess retracing the places I’d seen in the Navy was a normal thing to do. At least I told myself myself that. And why not, really? After a decade of trying to survive an atmosphere and lifestyle so diametrically opposed to my own, I'd barely made it. I knew I had to leave after I told a guy I’d kill him while standing in front of half a dozen other sailors. It wasn’t a threat. It was a declaration of intent. So when the chance came to leave, I took it. I left as a decorated E-6 with awards, medals and an honorable discharge. It was the third most difficult test I had survived. Next came my marriage and divorce. Then came caring for my deranged mother for several years. But I survived them all and did so “with honors.” No one can take that away from me.

The sunrise was full on in my face. I lowered the shade but it glinted into my eyes from yet another piece of polished brass. Painfully bright. I sat back down and waited with my eyes closed. Pain. My upper back and neck nearly didn't survive the my tribulations. I wish I could mirror Dr. Strange and say pain was an old “friend”…but it wasn’t. It was far closer to ancient enemy and much more familiar. So familiar that as it’s level crept up on me I often wouldn’t realize I was cognitively impaired until I was in deep pain. Then all I could do to escape it was to escape somehow. Going to bed worked but accomplished nothing. Yoga helped but it was a painful struggle and my willpower had long since been depleted. Drugs were pretty much worthless as everything seemed to have “drowsiness” as a side affect. Might as well go to bed and save myself the other possible problems from the meds.

The sun reached over the shade but was blocked by the roof. Now the hazard was the million reflections off of the wave tops. I chuckled. What a nice problem to have. Much like my sons’ “problems” of how to decorate their homes or what the next design project should be. They had plenty to live off of and I had plenty to live on. My supernatural thriller trilogy had taken care of all that. My money was secure for the first time in my life. Now I just needed to get my head and heart the same way.

Of course, the writing helped to clear the musty air inside my head. Now I can more easily tell others how I feel and why it matters to them. I feel protected out here as if I’m beyond their “reach.” Out here I don’t fear someone randomly shooting at my family or some crazy burning down my house because I don’t eat my hamburger a certain way. There’s an ocean between me and any unhinged threats of violence and I am very grateful for that.

I guess I am grateful for a lot of things now, but really, I feel I earned it all. Sacrifice. That’s always the key to redemption, isn’t it? Done. Check. Outta here.

After six deployments in the Navy and endless hours taking care of others, It was my turn. I had no regrets about leaving my life and lives behind me. I had given so much of my life to others that it felt like I wasn’t leaving anything behind. Did I have a life to live behind? Maybe not. But you know what? No one complained when I left. Is that a good thing or bad? Maybe I’d just forgotten what my life was. I don’t really know. But one thing I do know is that I always remembered those handful of places I got to visit in the Navy. There was Halifax, Rota, Palma, Naples and even Santiago, Chile. And naturally, St. Thomas. 

I never forgot those places. I wanted more of them. I wanted to refresh their sights, smells and sounds in my mind. I wanted to take the time to feel them now. Because…now I can. Or at least I will, very soon. 

“I’m on my own schedule now. And I’m not letting anyone get in my away. Which reminds me…”

After cleaning up breakfast and doing the dishes I went to through the engine room to the watercraft storage. The surfboard bags looked a little strange with bodies stuck in them, but they were weatherproof. I sniffed the air. Still clean. I looked at my watch. Noon departure, one day trip to BVI and and hour to clean up. Stacy came up behind me. 

“Sorry if I woke you.” I said and secured the door.

“No worries.” She put her hands on my shoulders and rubbed gently, sending warm chills down my spine. “You’re all bunched up again. Get in the chair and let me work this out.”

I sighed. “Love to.”

I don’t know what genius designed that chair but I’m grateful. Even though you I kneeled in it, it never hurt my knees. The upper part was basically the same as a trimmed massage table but with shelves for your arms. I could’ve gone to sleep in that thing. Nothing new. Stacy used her elbow to lean into my spine. It popped. That was new. 

“Oh, good!” She exclaimed as I caught my breath. “Not as bad as I thought. But you need to stop worrying about those pieces of shit. And you know Sir Blessingame has our backs. His guys will dispose of everything.”

“I know that.”

“And no one’s gonna miss a couple of drugged-up wannabe pirates.” She cracked my back again and leaned close to my ear. “So fucking lighten up.” 

I exhaled and forced myself to relax. “I’m not stressing about that, per se. It’s just that…” I sighed again. 

“I’m listening.” She pinched my neck. “Spit it out.” 

“Why me?”

“Stupid question. They just…” 

I sat up abruptly. “Is it really a stupid question? You know, no matter how bad off I was, how bedraggled my clothes were or how dirty I looked, people always came to me to beg. Me. Not the people around me. I literally would scowl at the fuckers and watch them walk past three other people, come right up to me and beg. I had people try to convince me that I’d helped them before and that I should again, spit blessings me and try everything to convince me to fork over some cash.” Stacy pushed me back onto the chair as I spoke. “I’ve helped more people than I can count, let people stay in my home when they didn’t have one or my apartment until my lease was out when I was underway, gave food to people when they were sleeping in the street and I’ve fucking given more than, more than a million to charities!”

“Your point is?”

“Now matter how much I gave, no matter what I looked like or how much of an asshole I tried to be, people would come right to me to beg, borrow and now straight up steal. Why do they fucking target me?”

“You answered your own question. You tried to be an asshole. But they saw you are the opposite. I mean, let’s face it, you’re a terrible actor.” 

I couldn’t help but smile. “How would you know?”

She wrapped her arms around me. “Because you still pretend not to be in love with me.” 

“I don’t pretend anything of the sort.” I patted her arm and gently removed her hands. “I just don’t want to screw up a good thing by sleeping with an employee.” 

She punched my spine, making it crack painfully. “Employee of the month, you mean, after I whacked those three shit-heads for you.”

“Okay, okay. Employee of the month. Ow.” I sat up slowly. “Now I need to lie down.”

“Want some company?”

“You now the answer to that.” 

“Always…but not now.” She frowned and put her hands on her hips. Her chiseled shoulders and the tank top made me sigh again. “I have damn near everything I’ve ever wanted right now and don’t want to risk messing it up.”

“The guys aren’t gonna mind, you know that.” 

“And if they did, you’d just kill them too.”

“Whatever. We’ve all done our share of killing in the military.” 

“And beyond.” I added.

“So you’ve got a couple of mercs who are past their “sell by” date. You picked us.”

“I was preparing for international travel and you guys had well-worn passports." 

She shrugged and worked on my shoulder. “You picked your crew well. Stop that!” She lifted my chin. “No mood swings in my presence.”

“It’s just so hard to let it go.”

“Back in the chair, bossman.” She pushed me down and worked my neck. “You’re a good person who’s just been taken advantage of too many times.”

“That’s not it. Do you know why I went to look at them again?” 

“Cause it’s been a couple of days and you wanted to make sure they weren’t zombies?”

“I wanted to know why I didn’t feel anything. I never do. Pretty much my whole life it’s been like that. I mean, I have no idea what or if anything happened to me as a child, nothing I can remember and I remember a lot. But even as a kid my friends commented that nothing seemed to affect me.”

“So? You developed a survival instinct for this fucked up world when you were young.” 

“And yet people who need or want things are drawn to me.” I sat up and faced her. “Like you.”

She recoiled. “That was…”

“Luck? Fate?”

“An extensive background check.” She sneered.

“Right.” I got up. “You said it yourself the first week on board. What was it? How’d you put it?”

“The money is good but the lifestyle is better. Never thought a security job would be this sweet.” I raised my brow and waited. She added “Because of how cool my boss is.”

“You were looking for something that I could give you. Just like everyone else.” I gestured to the open sea. “I came out here to get away from that shit.”

“So you don’t want to deal with us, or me?”

“Other way around with you, my friend.” I made a circle with a finger. “I don’t want you to deal with me. I’m broken, Stacy. Always have been. My whole life I’ve been not very whole or wholesome. And I don’t want to get involved with you if I’m not emotionally able to give you what you deserve.”

“And if what if I’m okay with what you are right now?”

“Then I ask you as a friend, to keep things that way they are right now.”

She turned away. “Enjoy your nap. We’ll be underway by one.”

Blessingame alway had an incredible flare for design. I looked at the seaside mansion’s blue tinted windows reflecting the sun as we made our back way out to sea. We were one crew member short and the others hadn’t said an extra word to me since we landed. I went below, woke the laptop logged into the crew member research registry. Might as well replace everyone now. Hope it won’t take as long as it did before.

“I don’t know…how would I know…if they wanted me or the lifestyle, the money?”

A reply posted in my head like a busy Twitter account.

Stacy didn’t care about the lifestyle, did she?

How do I know that? Now she’s working for Blessingame. He’s got a shitload more that I’ll even have.

That was cruel, and you know it. She wanted you.

Feeling’s mutual. But not quantifiably equal. Not even close.

After another nap I made myself dinner and went back below. There were responses from the agency about new crew members but I didn’t look at any of them. I ate, had a couple of shots of Bailey’s and went back to bed without cleaning up.

I woke sometime in the after-midnight morning and set to writing. I bounced between my horror and fantasy stories, letting my frustrations forge the characters and situations in the narratives. The I stopped to get some iced tea. It was nearly light. I looked over the pilot’s shoulder for the time of sunrise. Half and hour still. Neither of us said anything as I made myself breakfast. I took it to the flying bridge and got my sunglasses ready. This time I added a couple of slices of avocado to the Benedict.

I looked down at the plate as the sun crested the horizon. Empty. I did’t even remember clearing it and reached for my tea. Empty. I left everything and returned to bed. I slept for a few hours without dreams and woke to a slightly clearer head.

“It’s all and escape. The yacht, the ocean, the writing, music playlists, sleeping, everything. Just an escape. It’s an escape from the pain. Some of the pain I can remember, some of it I can’t. Most it the pain I’m escaping from is too far beneath the scar tissue to even identify.” 

I grunted as my back popped unexpectedly. Should I let it unravel more deeply? Every minute in a more healthy position was better than not. But the longer I stayed there the more painful it’d be getting up as my back slid back into disarray.

I got up slowly and made my way to the computer. Unconsciously, I scanned through the possible crew members on the agency listings and their available dates. Then my mind went into hyper focus. Her listing read the same as it did when I’d seen it the first time, only the dates were different.

So much for Blessingame.

I inwardly chastised myself for the accusations while I brought up her crewmember profile. In the “freeform communication” block I typed a message without identifying myself. The yacht’s name would do that for me.

“For 30 days I’ll do anything you say I should. Trial run.” 

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and hit “send.” Then I took another nap. When I woke, I went up to the flying bridge to clean up my breakfast dishes. They were already gone. I went to the stairs stopped when I noticed the sun again. It was in the opposite position from when I’d gone to sleep. I went below slowly. Zach was at the helm. He smiled broadly when he saw me.

“I made some more iced tea and sliced up some lemons. Both in the fridge.”

I cocked my brow. “She’s giving orders that fast, huh?”

“Apparently you forgot to state when the thirty days began. So….” He shrugged. “We’ll be there by six. Blessingame’s invited us all to dinner. And there’s a dress code.”

“Holy shit.” I ran my and though my hair. “What have I done?”

Zach’s smile faded, he inclined his head. “You know exactly what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, guess so.” I nodded. “Should I pick out my own clothes or has Stacy done that for me too?”

“She probably has but me and the guys want to see her face when you ignore her.”

I smiled. “We should bet on her reaction.”

“Winner gets three extra days on shore?”

“Let the games begin.” I nodded.

The first thing I did when I reached my cabin was to strip the bed and wash everything. After making it up again I was tempted to lie down but stoped myself. I smoothed out every wrinkle and bump of the cotton duvet.

“The next time I lie here, I won’t be alone.” I stood back and regarded my rapidly approaching future. Stacy was the best woman I’d ever find. She was smart, strong, capable and although a killer, was reserved and not a psycho. I took a deep, cleansing, breath.

“And she even likes a sunrise with Eggs Benedict.”