I had a plan. To move my things onto the boat, fix it up and sell it. But plans change. I quickly realized that not having to pay rent indefinitely was much bigger selling point than having a quick lump sum of cash. With few other options left, I decided that I was going to make the sailboat my permanent residence. I'd worked through every possible other logistical solution and well, here I sit. Looks like I'm starting all over again, the last three years were just pretend.
She's coming together nicely, if you ask me. I've been scrubbing and polishing every nook and cranny on this boat and I'm actually pretty impressed with myself. She may not have been the flashiest boat in the marina but her potential was really shining through now. The interior was pretty much complete at this point. In the last few days I'd cleaned up, put a fresh coat of paint on the interior and reupholstered and now that I've just returned from a cute little home furnishing shop I'll all ready to go. I fluffed a few throw pillows with intricate patters and sat them on the overly plush bedding, taking it all in. It may not have been the traditional home but it was quite cozy and just what I need right now.
The exterior, however, was another story completely. I climbed back outside and leaned against the helm. I didn't know the first thing about any of this. And dockage certainly wasn't free either. Paul and his wife, however, needed someone to clean their marina offices two nights a week and they'd agreed to exchange my work in that department or my slip rent. In addition, I'd agreed to helping out in the mechanic's shop on my day off from the diner in exchange for some work that needed to be done on my boat.
"Hey, Stevie!" His voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Jim!" I waived happily to see my new friend approaching on the dock. Jim worked as the general manager of day to day operations around the marina and we had forged and instant friendship. He was a large man, tall and incredibly strong, but with one of the gentlest spirit I'd ever encountered. He was there to lend me a hand or an ear at any time and I could not have been more grateful to him.
I greeted him with a warm hug. "I put the beer in the fridge for you, Jim. Help yourself, of course."
He helped me get a few things in order and we spent the remainder of the evening just relaxing and talking. He fished a bit and I just dangled my toes over the edge, just relaxing as the sun went down.
I didn't talk to him much about Lindsey's identity specifically, unsure of where to begin, but he knew more or less what was going on. Jim had quickly become my closest ally. Tonight I had turned to him for some heavier than normal advice. I needed an outside perspective on Lindsey. Tears form behind my eyes, but I do not cry. I was fighting so hard not to let my emotions get the best of me and Jim let me talk it out. Half of my problem lately was that I honestly wasn't even sure what I wanted to happen. It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time. I want what's his and I want what's mine.
Jim eventually gathered his things and walked home, bidding me a goodnight and telling me he'd catch me another time. "Good luck tomorrow. If you need to talk to someone about whatever it is, you know I'm here."
I gave him a half smile. "Thanks, Jim. Night."
He could easily tell when I was lost in my own thoughts. I was exhausted and I wandered to bed, climbing in to my comfortable little nook with my journal and began writing.
Once I was finished I placed my journal into the top drawer of my shelving unit, taking out Lindsey's letter, which remained unopened, and an old photo of us. It had become my nightly ritual. I just couldn't bring myself to open it. I wasn't sure exactly what the letter contained but in my heart I knew it was a sentiment that would better be delivered in person. I was comforted not only by the thought that he'd sent it to me, but that I'd had the will power not to open it. I looked in his blue eyes in the photograph, urging myself not to become bitter towards him.
I head myself begin talking to the photo. "I still get lost in your eyes. And it seems like I can't live a day without you. You were the one I love, the one thing that I tried to hold onto." I looked at the happy couple again before placing my photo and the letter back into the drawer with my journal and rolling over and forcing myself to sleep. Tomorrow was going to come quickly.
