The Bad Boy And The Mermaid novel Chapter 44

Hunter

Days turned to weeks. And I’d spent about two months looking like a mess. Painting and selling them to interested clients, I was also doing commissioned work. If I wasn’t painting, I was nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels. Lately, Jack had become best friends with me; he helped numb the confusion and the pain.

It was sad, almost too funny the irony that my mother hadn’t wanted me even before I was out of her womb, and my wife had clearly deserted me for reasons that I was still searching for to this day. Not that I had any mommy issues, but it was a no-brainer that I was basically unwanted.

It was pathetic. My life as I was living right now, feeling sorry for myself that I was unlovable. The pity-party needed to stop. I just didn’t know how. Some of my friends from college had tried to lure me out of my cave by asking me to go out for a “fun” night which no doubt entailed booze and women, a place where a married man had no business venturing into but would you really call me a married man?

I had no ring on my hand to prove it; no pictures of my wife save for the portrait I’d painted. No clothes of hers, no nothing. Leslie acted weird a lot of times; the annoying mutt would stare at windows and bark for twenty-four hours. He tried to communicate with me, and I wished I could understand the Doggo dialect. If there was anyone who would give me the real truth, it was Leslie.

I was so fucking miserable; I took my father’s Yacht Bella Alessia, named after my half-brother, Ryan’s deceased Italian mother, and my dad’s first wife. “Bella” literally meant beauty in Italian and Alessia had been her name. During my rebellious, vindictive years, I’d asked, no, teased Elaine, third wife of father dearest about how she felt that he hadn’t changed the name of the Yacht to hers, she’d simply smiled and said naming the Yacht “Bella Elaine” would have sucked ass and she strongly believed the Yacht would have drowned if it was named after her. I was shocked, of course but knew that Elaine had zero mean bones in her body. She’d known that even though Dad loved her a lot, he’d loved Ryan’s mother more. If Alessia hadn’t died, Elaine wouldn’t even be in the picture.

The games that the universe played with us were just fucking nasty.

And here I was spending three days on a Yacht looking for my wife. There was just the Helmsman and me on the boat. The Yacht had a total of three bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and an upper and lower deck. My ass was currently parked on the upper deck, downing my fifth or sixth drink (who was keeping count?) I was looking into the water, really squinting my eyes.

“Hey...” I called into the water, leaning over. “Hey mermaid, are you in there?”

I could only see my reflection in the calm dark water. “Come on out.” I slurred. “Talk...talk to your husband.”

With wobbly legs I stood up and holding onto the sides with one hand, I slowly descended down from the upper deck to the lower one. My other hand was holding half a bottle of whiskey. I couldn’t even see clearly as I stood on the deck, bare feet. I probably stank of liquor, but I didn’t care. I was more bothered about drowning my sorrows and pain. I leaned against the boat railing and didn’t even realize when I lost my balance and went tumbling into the sea.

There was a loud splash as I submerged into the cold water and I could swear this was a dream and that I would wake up any minute but I continued to sink lower and lower, deeper into the sea.

I didn’t have the strength to swim, couldn’t even feel my limbs. It had to be the alcohol.

The serene of the sea surrounded me, engulfing me and I thought this is it.

I was going to die by drowning. I’d often wondered how the victims of a shipwreck must have felt as they welcomed death. Well, now I knew.

I closed my eyes.

***

My head was spinning when I opened my eyes, and I was still feeling quite sick and dizzy. I was lying on the deck floor, and looking up I could see the stars glimmering above.

I wasn’t dead.

I could make out the faint outline of a woman kneeling beside me. Her hair was aqua blue in the moonlight and she was completely naked. She held my face in both her hands and wept silently. I wanted to open my mouth and tell her that it was okay. I wanted to ask her if she saved my life. There were so many things I needed to talk but couldn’t utter a word.

She was whispering in what seemed to me like Greek, she kept saying it repeatedly.

“You should have jus lee me drown,” I slurred. “I was better off dead anyway.”

I got smacked on my cheek so hard, I think I’d lost some of the effects of whiskey. I had it coming from a mile away. I chuckled, “Hit me again. I like pain; it makes me realize that I’m still alive.”

She mumbled something unintelligible. Her voice was melodious and sweet. She could sing for hours and I would still be here listening to her.

“English,” I said between a cough. “I speak English.”

She didn’t say a word, just stared at me with her big blue eyes, and batted her long lashes at me. Slowly she caressed my cheek. Her expressions were unreadable but she was trying to convey her words through her eyes.

“Do you understand English?” I asked.

“Talk to me, Blue.”

When she heard her name, her eyes became the size of dinner plates and she scrambled to get to her feet and I knew she was leaving.

“Wait!” I called out to her desperately.

She stopped and turned.

“Please Stay.”

She appeared to be reluctant but walked back towards me. I tried not to look at her from the neck down but my eyes kept straying there. You couldn’t tell a man who hadn’t seen his wife in two months not to stare at her when she was completely naked.

She whispered three words. “I am sorry.”

***

I woke up with a bad hangover under bed-sheets and the worst bedroom on the boat. Bile rose in my throat and I reached out for the bucket sitting below and threw up in it.

I lay there watching the ocean waves lapping from the little round window and wondering if I’d dreamed about last night.