Blue Awakenings

Chapter 2

In my cool-enough hotel room, I had the old, dusty radio tuned to a local station, listening to merengue music, the rhythm getting me in the groove of the night. Freshly out of a cold shower, with a flimsy white towel wrapped around my waist, I stood over the narrow counter in my tiny kitchenette, tapping my foot to the music and slicing an avocado. I stopped for a second, staring at the color of the avocado’s flesh—my favorite shade of green: A mix of jade and emerald, with a rich tint of yellow, the color bursting with health, reminding me of everything fresh and vivacious in the world.

I used to know a kid whose eyes were this exact color. He’d lived right next door to us in Verdun, a working neighborhood of Montreal. A quiet kid with hair the color of dark rust, and he had these eyes…Used to watch my every move with those avocado-green eyes.

O’Reilly is name was. He was a beautiful kid. I remembered he had it pretty rough at home and couldn’t get but a few words out without stuttering. My family, especially Boone, used to take care of him. The kid might have had a crush on me back then. It must have been a little tough for him waking up one morning and finding out I’d taken off with no word to him. Poor kid. I’d never even said goodbye to the boy.

Why was I even thinking about that kid? Oh, right, the avocado.

I felt pretty good tonight. That walk on the beach had cleared my head, and then my afternoon nap had been undisturbed. People knew not to knock on my door between the hours of noon and five, but often times, they did anyway.

Through the window by my unmade bed, I could hear voices streaming by, as the crowds were slowly emerging from the dining room or other restaurants around the resort. They’d soon start gathering by the bars near the pool, but on Fridays, those slow hours weren’t mine. No, I came in when the moon was sucking up the ocean and people were already sloshed and eager for excitement.

That was the thing that puzzled me, though. What did they expect would happen? It was the same resort as last night. Mostly the same people, too.

My job was to make people feel like they were special. The elite. The ones who didn’t have to worry about what happened outside the resort limits. What did it matter if more than three-quarters of the island lived in poverty, as long as the Coke Cola was cold and the rum flowed?

As I waited for the bread to toast, I threw on a pair of blue jeans and a black tank top. Then I pulled my long hair back and quickly tied it up, going through the motions, my mind jumping from one thought to another. On my way back to the resort this morning, I’d finally made my decision.

I was going back to Vancouver. I really did need to see about David. And I definitely longed for some winter weather. But not the brutal Montreal kind. The gentler climate of Vancouver would ease me back into the North American world and its conventions. I’d rent a furnished room somewhere in the West End and take a few months to get my head together. I’d hike and ski, and BC’s extraordinary wilderness would restore me.

My toast popped up, and after I’d made and wolfed down my sandwich in a matter of seconds, I chased the meal down with a tall glass of cold green tea and picked up my sister’s last letter, tearing the pink envelop open. Leaning up against the kitchen counter, the familiar sounds of the resort filtering into my room—dance music, laughter, and the occasional excited scream—I read Lene’s short message. She always wrote succinct letters full of drawings, because she knew my severe dyslexia stopped me from reading anything too complex.

Hey, Nico!

It’s me, your ann—no, couldn’t quite decipher that word—sister. Then there was a drawing of herself. Stick woman with a big head full of yellow curls.

How are you? University is—there was a drawing of an open head with pencils sticking out of the brain and a bird laying an egg on the pencil nest.

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head. Lene Lund. What a strange creature my sister was. I set my eyes on the page once more, and memories of her playing with that doll, that one-eyed doll she’d wanted to have baptized, popped up in my mind. She’d been such a creative and inquisitive kid, always two steps ahead of Boone and I. Hadn’t she sworn that our neighbor, that O’Reilly kid, had been the doll’s father?

I chuckled out loud again, recalling the kid’s face at our dinner table after she’d declared his paternity. I could almost see us as we’d been then: My father, young and imposing as an oak tree, watching over his brood with a beaming pride he never could contain. My mother, striking and observing, her cool blue eyes missing nothing, and Boone, my carefree brother, shooting beet soup out of his nose, while Lene combed her doll’s hair, talking about C-sections and whatnot.

And me?

Well, I’d just wanted out. It had never been their fault. The kind of hunger I had back then, they couldn’t sate. I focused my eyes on the page again.

I miss you every day. And more and more. Please come home for Christmas. Please.

My heart squeezed inside my chest. “I’ll try, baby girl,” I whispered. There was a knock on my door and I gazed up, setting the letter down on my bed.

Now the madness would start again. I pulled the door open, ready for anyone.

Lorna raised the bottle of rum to my face. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said with a sly grin. Beside her, Stephanie was shaking a bag of limes. “It’s mojito time.” They were both hostesses at the resort, wild, sharp as knives, and always up for a good time. “You have mint leaves, right?” Lorna asked and winked.

I stepped aside and let them in. “Ladies,” I said, bowing. They were clad in their “uniform” which was basically a skimpy white dress and white high heeled shoes. They were beautiful girls and I appreciated their company. They got started on the drinks, and as they did, I discreetly hid my sister’s letter under my pillow, but of course Stephanie caught me. “Oh, what are you sneaking away there?” she cried, already trying to get past me. “Lorna, Nicolai’s got a secret lover we don’t know about.”

“Back off.” I laughed. “My sister wrote me.”

“Sister, huh?” Lorna screamed over the sound of the blender. She was crushing ice. Finally, the terrible noise stopped. “Hey, Ron said you’re leaving? Is that true?”

Stephanie pouted. “I thought you’d hang out for the winter…”

“Nah. I can’t do that.” I ruffled her puffy, teased brown hair. “I gotta go.”

“But we love you,” they said in unison, standing shoulder to shoulder. They cracked up laughing and poured the rum into tall glasses, over the ice, mint leaves, and lime wedges. “Where’s the soda?”

“Fridge.” I leaned in on the small, cluttered kitchen island. The room was tiny, but had all the basic amenities, and I’d sort of made it my home in the last year. Maybe I’d even miss it a bit. Except for the shower. No, I wouldn’t miss that nightmare. Us staff didn’t get the good rooms. We were lodged in the old part of the resort, where the last renovations had occurred in the nineteen century or something.

“Well, then, a toast.” Stephanie raised her glass. “To our favorite bartender. A man as classy as he is bad ass.” She chuckled and took a good swill of her drink. “We’re gonna miss you, Tarzan.”

“I’ll miss you guys, too.” I smiled and took a sip. Yikes. Way too much sugar and soda. “But you can’t fix a mojito to save your life.”

We chatted about guests and the latest staff gossip while the radio played a great set of bachata songs in the background, the sound of the bongos and maracas pumping me up. I poured myself a shot a rum instead of having the mojito. That would be it for me tonight. I didn’t drink on the job. I’d learned my lesson a long time ago.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Lorna asked, turning more serious. “Cruise or…?”

“No, actually, I’m gonna go see about a friend in Vancouver.” I cleared my throat and drained my shot. “He’s been sick and I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Stephanie tipped her head, watching me with bright blue eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

I hated to say those four letters out loud, but these women were nothing if not open minded and compassionate. “AIDS,” I said, the sound of the acronym out of my mouth bringing reality home. It was time. It was really time I got on a plane and back to Vancouver.

“But isn’t he on the cocktail?”

“He was infected in eighty-nine. His immune system is pretty shot and—” I stopped. This wasn’t a good conversation to be having an hour before my shift. “Anyway, he’s battled it out for a long time and he’s got an appetite for life you wouldn’t believe, so I’m not worried.”

They hesitated, both obviously picking up on my bullshit, but thankfully Lorna had the grace to let me off the hook. “We should go, Stephie,” she said, setting her empty glass down. Then she pinched my cheek. “And you, don’t you dare leave this island without letting us throw you a going-away party, okay?”

“All right,” I said, shrugging. “Make it quick though, ‘cause I’m leaving after the weekend.”

“Wow. So soon.” Lorna made a sad face. “This place won’t be the same without you.”

I’d heard that sentence spoken with genuine warmth many times in the last ten years. Wherever I went, I’d always managed to weave fruitful bonds with people, and because I naturally tended to take the lead in workplaces, I’d usually end up making some constructive changes in the bars or restaurants I’d worked in. In some ways, that was probably the reason why I’d never stayed too long. I had a feeling that I was, in spite of all my running, the settling down type of guy, and maybe I wasn’t ready to go all in anywhere. Not yet, anyway.

“Hey, Nick…Hope it works out for you and your friend.” Stephanie leaned in to hug me. “Now come here.” Lorna soon joined her, walking around to hug me, too.

They squeezed me hard and I kissed both their heads in turn. “Take care of yourselves, girls,” I said, prying away from their clutch. “Don’t let the guys mess with you. Stick together, okay?”

“God, I’m gonna miss you!” Lorna screamed, before kissing my forehead. She had tears in her eyes. She was a tough cookie and I was touched to see her this moved by my leaving. “All right, let’s go before I ruin my face.”

“We’ll catch you later,” Stephanie said, as they stepped out. “Keep the rum!”

I watched them walk down the narrow hallway, back to their room. Maybe one day we’d cross paths again and they’d be wives and mothers. Or maybe not. I smiled and shook my head, retreating into the doorway, but then caught sight of Aiden in the hall, and paused. I hadn’t seen Aiden in days. He’d taken some time off to go visit his mother in California. I’d missed seeing his pretty face at the front desk this week. “Hey,” I greeted him, my voice betraying the sudden nervousness I felt. I’d have to tell him I was leaving. Not sure how he’d take that news.

He walked up to me, his dark luminous eyes fixed on mine. He was a sweet, gentle man with a stunning face and very beautiful brown skin he’d inherited from his father, a local business man who owned a rum factory. Aiden’s mother was white and he’d grown up between two worlds. He was professional, extremely good at his job, making the guests feel like they were royalty, but Aiden kept to himself, rarely joining in on the staff parties. I supposed that was what had drawn me to him. The quiet ones had always captivated me. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said, when he was at my door. “How’s your family?”

“Manuel heard from Paula that you were leaving.” He bit his lower lip and gave me a heartbreaking look. “That true?”

I’d tried to stay away from him as best I’d could, but last month, we’d spent a few hours walking on the beach one late afternoon, talking and sharing secrets, and then he’d invited me into his room and I’d not been able to resist his sweet kiss. We hadn’t done anything else but kiss that night, and yet, it felt like much more had happened. Why did I always make the same mistakes? How many nice guys was I going to hurt with my ambivalence? “I was gonna come over and tell you personally tomorrow,” I stammered, like an i***t.

He touched the knot of his black tie and there was a slight tremor in his hand. When he set his eyes on my face again, they were brimming with emotion. “You’re gonna go see about David?” he asked, almost tenderly and without accusation. I’d told him about David. About his brilliant and messed up life. The theater. The dancing. Davie’s never-ending quest for validation.

“Yeah,” I breathed, leaning my head on the doorway.

“Good. That’s good.” Aiden cleared his throat, composed himself and smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be really…happy to see you.”

Happy? No. David would probably throw a shoe at me. That was if he let me into his apartment at all.

“Listen, uh,” I said, unable to control my voice, “you wanna come in for a few minutes?” I asked, without thinking.

“I have to be at the front desk.” Aiden took a deep breath, his chest rising under his dark blue shirt. “Maybe…later?”

Later would be nighttime. Later entailed promises I couldn’t deliver on. “Aiden—”

“Never mind. That’s cool. No, I get it.” He tossed his chin up, defiant and lovely as ever.

“It’s been so nice to know you and I’d like to keep in touch, if you want that.”

“So you can have me waiting for your letters and calls, too?”

He meant David. That touched a nerve. “Okay,” I said, giving him a hard look.

“I’m gonna say goodbye to you now, all right, Nick? Not tomorrow or later.” He leaned in and not looking into my eyes, put his warm hands on my face. “Goodbye,” he whispered. “I hate you a little.”

I wanted to kiss him, but he leaned away too quickly and took off, walking briskly down the hall. “Stay safe, Nicolai!” He turned the corner and was out of my life. It was always that way. Always.

“Goddamn it,” I sighed out, knocking my head on the doorway. I’d really have to cut that out. No more kissing men. No more hooking them in, only to shake them off.

I thought of Davie and all the pushing and pulling I’d done with him over the last decade. All those moments of near passion I’d never allowed to bloom between us.

I owed him reparation. But was I too late?