Blue Awakenings

Chapter 1Blue. Apparently, there was about fourteen quintillion—if that was even a number—gallons of water in all the oceans reflecting the blue light of the atmosphere. That was a lot of blue right there. That was the kind of blue you saw from space. Now personally, after spending the last eleven years working on cruise ships or tending bars in the Caribbean islands, I’d seen enough blue, every shade, pigment, and hue of it, from cerulean to midnight, to last me a f*****g lifetime. Even as I laid there in bed, slowly waking up, I couldn’t escape the blue. Through the yellowed curtains barely breathing in the window, all I could see was an azure blue sky shining over a big blue sea. Wait. This wasn’t my hotel room. Those airline skirt uniforms hanging in the open closet? Nope. Definitely not mine. I’d gone home with a woman last night. I remembered now. “Hey, you,” she said, kissing my bare shoulder. Speak of the devil. “You awake?” Her name was Bonnie. Flight attendant. Curvy. Happy as a Saturday morning cartoon. Last night, she’d stuck around my bar, drinking zombie cocktails and making me laugh with her quirky ways and facial expressions. I wasn’t going to give in, but she’d finally won me over with her Roger Dangerfield impersonation. And also, she was a red-head. For some reason, I had a thing for red-heads. I recognized the layout of the room. I’d been here a few times before. The room was at the Coconut Inn, a half hour walk from my resort. Well, not my resort, but the ritzy hotel I worked for and temporarily lived in. “Hi,” I said, flipping to my back and looking at her. Oh, wow, great face. Dazzling smile. Vibrant dark red hair. That color. It always caught my attention. I couldn’t help dropping my eyes to the curve of her breasts stretching the cheap linen sheet she’d wrapped around herself. “How’s it goin’?” I asked, my eyes meeting hers again. “It’s hot as a fart in hell in here. I should have picked a better airline to work for, right?” Smiling, she held her head in her hand, staring at me with warm honey-brown eyes that soaked up the sunlight in the room. She touched the hair sticking to my forehead. “How do you stand the heat with that Norse blood of yours? Swedish or Finnish?” Her gaze was moving over my skin as though my chest was made of vanilla ice cream. I needed to get out of here. Not here here, but off this island. It was October already. The season was finished. From now on, it wouldn’t be nothing but rain, old folks who drank one long island iced tea at three in the afternoon and went to bed at seven, and hurricane warnings. “I’m Norwegian,” I corrected her, though it probably didn’t matter. I sat up and looked around for my jeans. “But I left Norway with my folks when I was about ten. Lived in Quebec most of my life.” Why was I mentioning my parents to her? Maybe because I missed them more than I liked to admit to myself. Especially lately. Kept wondering what Johan and Helga Lund were up to in their little house in the suburbs of Montreal. And my brother Boone? Was he keeping safe out there on the beat? My brother, the boy I used to toss over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, was a cop? My baby sister Lene was at university. Man, I was getting old. Twenty-eight years on this blue planet. That was more than a quarter of a century. I felt much older than that, though. Maybe even a little used up. I made a move to get out of bed. “Hey…wait.” Bonnie—pretty sure her name was Bonnie—touched my bare shoulder. Then she tugged a strand of my long blond hair. I usually had it tied up, but the rubber band must have slipped off during the night. “Let me make us some coffee before you leave, okay?” Surprised, I glanced back at her. So she didn’t expect me to stay? She was cooler than I’d thought. “I’ll pass on the coffee, thanks.” Ah, there were my jeans. I stood and quickly slipped them on over my undies. “I don’t wanna have any caffeine, ‘cause I have to sleep four or five hours before my next shift.” I threw my white shirt on, tucked my hair behind an ear and gave her a genuine smile. “That’s when the circus starts all over again.” She sat up, holding the sheet close to her body, and eyed me. She was free of make-up, looking sweet and homely. “You know,” she said, “last night, I told myself that I wasn’t gonna take you back here, ‘cause, I mean—a bartender? A bartender in a resort?” She chuckled and shook her head, watching me. “But…you are something else. Look at you. You’re like a well groomed Viking. You know, your eyes are the same color as my dog’s eyes.” I laughed, frowning at her. “Your dog, huh? That’s, uh, wow. Thanks for the compliment?” She cracked up. “He’s a Siberian husky. You know, white-blue eyes? Are you a model or an actor on the side?” “No, I’m just a barman.” I’d dabbed in acting, mostly figuration, and had done some modelling for a few fame-starved photographers. I’d been in a vodka ad, which was basically me in my birthday suit sitting up in bed with a bottle of vodka between my thighs. But the annoying sound of a camera shutter clicking away in front of an eager face asking me to look both nonchalant and dying to f**k someone, had always made me laugh. Most photographers would lose their s**t with me. I remembered this one time, the photographer was so frustrated, he actually broke into tears. He was a sweet guy, and I felt bad, so I ended kissing him. “Hey, you’re not ‘just a barman’,” Bonnie said, with a serious expression. “I watched you last night. A little twist of lime here, a charming wink over there, an attentive ear for the sad divorcee, an entertaining show for the young dudes, all the while, you’re discreetly picking up those tips and giving everybody a little bit of attention.” She laughed. “And oh, do they ever want it from you. You’re the main attraction at that uptight resort. Do you even know it?” That was the job. The competition was fierce for bar tending gigs in these resorts. You didn’t just show up and pour drinks or you wouldn’t last the season. They’d can your ass in the blink of an eye and call up the next guy on the list. You had to have the whole package. Not just the looks. Or the talent. Or the attitude. The whole bundle. But what the old timers, the bartenders who’d been riding this crazy train for more than twenty years, wouldn’t tell you was, the job ate you up. Night after night. It devoured you. People in resorts…They were barely human sometimes. They lost their minds, manners, and decency the second the sun set and the DJ turned up the volume on the speakers. Soccer moms, who back home, were head of the PTA or something, suddenly wanted you to tie their hands behind their back, while you poured a blow job shooter down their throat. And the husbands. I couldn’t count how many times I’d been followed to my room by a drunk so-called straight guy wanting to get his cherry popped in the Caribbean. I’d turned down more of those guys than the house cleaning service turned down beds. I stepped back to the door. “I had a decent time with you,” I said. “Thanks for everything.” “And I had a decent time with you.” She laughed again. She had a quirky laugh I enjoyed. “But, uh, can I ask you something? How come you didn’t…you know.” I was already at the door, sneakers in hand. I’d take the long way home. It was nine A.M. and the sun wouldn’t be too scorching. I’d walk on the beach, right by the shoreline, and think. Needed to spend some time with myself. There were crucial decisions I’d been putting off lately. “How come what?” I asked, tipping my head. “Well, you were really, let’s call it generous, with me last night. But you didn’t…come. And I know you weren’t drunk, so maybe I didn’t exactly give you want you—” “Don’t worry about it.” So I hadn’t come? Big deal. I rarely did with strangers. I liked to get people off, but never quite got to that place in my head where I could let it all go with someone. “I enjoyed everything,” I added, putting my hand on the door handle. “Take care, all right? Safe travels, Bonnie.” “Oh, you actually remember my name. Wow.” “Well, yeah. Duh. You’re cool.” I hesitated. “Okay, see you around.” “Are you going back home this week? I mean, Canada? Season’s over, right?” How long had I been in the Dominican Republic? A little over eight months. Actually the longest time I’d stayed in any one place in the last five years. I liked it here. I’d made friends with some of the locals and was getting into the rhythm of the island, leaving the resort more and more, discovering the culture and history of this ancient and complicated land. “I’m not sure,” I finally answered. “I’m thinking about it.” “So where’s home in Canada?” Home. There was Montreal. The city where I’d grown up. And then, there was Vancouver, the city where I’d run off to as a teenager. Those two places were more than two thousand kilometres from each other, and in themselves, a world of their own. “I guess that’s what I’m gonna have to figure out.” In Montreal, there was my family. Everything and everyone who’d shaped me. In Vancouver, there was David. David. Man, I had to go see about him soon. He’d been on my mind these last days. “Take care,” I said, opening the door and smiling, though the thought of David had darkened my mood. How was he doing? Why hadn’t he returned any of my calls in the last months? “Hey, Nick,” she said, as I was stepping out, “what’s that letter R on your chest stand for?” “It’s a rune symbol. It’s sort of an ink talisman. A protection.” I’d gotten that tattoo when I was seventeen, just a few weeks before David and I had run off together for Vancouver one winter morning. A memory of those days, that winter of 1988, crept into my mind, but I didn’t want to think about all that right now. “Well, whatever you decide to do,” Bonnie said, “I have a feeling you’ll be damn good at it. The new millennium is just around the corner, right? It’s a great time to start something.” She tipped her head, giving me an appraising look. “You got something, Nick. I mean that. In my line of work, I see a lot of people, and I’m telling you…You got something. Hope you cash in on that soon.” Her words touched me, and for a second, I wondered why I was running from this woman so fast. It seemed that was all I’d done in the last nine years. Run. I guessed I just didn’t want to be anchored anywhere. There was a life out there for me, I could feel it. Something waiting. A change. A chance. A whole new existence. Eleven years ago, I’d set my course for uncharted territory, and now, that territory had narrowed down to a cage. “Thanks,” I said, simply. “I’ll do my best to catch that wave.” “Good luck, Nicolas.” “Nicolai.” I winked. “Right. Nicolai with the Siberian husky blue eyes.” She laughed again and that was goodbye. Finally, I stepped out of the room, coming face to face with Lucinda, who was about to knock on the door. “‘Morning,” I greeted her. She was a shy teenager who always had a book under her arm. “Good morning, Nick,” she sputtered with a charming Spanish accent. She smiled bashfully over the cleaning cart and dropped her eyes to the ground. She was in her maid’s uniform, looking pretty, starting her morning shift, I supposed. She’d told me how she dreamed of going to college in America. I really hoped she did. Her father ran a little fruit stand out by the resort, and whenever I stopped by, he always chatted me up about local politics, while I picked out the best mangoes out of his straw baskets. I’d met so many great, hardworking people in the last years, and they inspired me. Men and women who had passion and a positive outlook on life I envied. I wanted that. To run my own business. Be my own boss. Work hard. Play hard. Never complain. Go to bed at night with a clear conscience, knowing that what you’d earned, you deserved. That kind of integrity was priceless. Lucinda’s father, as poor and tired as he was, seemed to me happier than most of the guys who’d sit around my bar all evening, Rolex or not. I was already heading for the short sand covered path leading down to the beach. “Say hi to your father for me.” I hurried away, eager to be on my own. “And, Lucinda, let me know if somebody gives you a hard time, all right?” She smiled and quickly nodded. “Si, gracias, Nicola.” At the wobbly, busted up gate, I paused, taking in the view of that shimmering sea rolling in and out of the sand in gentle morning waves. Low tide was my favorite part of the day. All that space. And the birds circling and cawing. The beach before the flood of tourist hit it. I was a lucky man to have such a view. It was indeed a blue dream. But it wasn’t home. Now all I needed to do, was find out where that home was.