35. Henrik
THIRTY-FIVE
HENRIK
Yesterday marked our fifth week at sea. Through my brief conversations with Carina, I’ve learned they’re seeing an impressive number of mature crabs after the severe decline of the years before.
Sitting back in my chair, staring out the window, I watch the seagulls as they sail overhead.
They look so peaceful. The noise on the boat mutes their familiar calls.
With the door to my wheelhouse open, I overhear many of the conversations the scientists are having.
Most of them revolve around the crab they’re catching and the excitement about what that means for the future of the opilio fishery.
I, too, am excited about what it means. But I refuse to get my hopes up.
I don’t want to expect a season and have the state take it away.
Losing out on the previous years has left a lasting mark on our family business.
The financial loss prevented us from upgrading gear and making necessary repairs or updates to the Brina.
When the biologists’ conversation shifts to something more technical and far from my comprehension, I tune out, until I hear a sound I love but have missed dearly for the last five weeks. Carina’s laugh. Turning in my chair, I strain to hear what they’re discussing.
A deep voice asks, “What do you call it when a crab is walking to its part-time job?”
The love of my life says, “What?”
“A side hustle.”
They both laugh and then Carina says, “I have one.”
“A guy walks into a seafood store carrying a crab, and he asks the owner, ‘Do you make crab cakes?’ The owner says, ‘We sure do.’ And the guy says, ‘Great because it’s his birthday.’”
Throwing my head back, I bark out a loud laugh. I don’t know why I think that’s so funny, but it’s hysterical. Especially the mental image. Hearing my name startles me, and I stifle my laugh.
Carina appears at the top of the ladder. “What was the sound?” The smirk on her face is adorable.
“I overheard the crab birthday cake joke, and what you heard was my muffled attempt at hiding that I’d been eavesdropping on your joke session.”
“Really? It wasn’t private. We were all telling crab jokes. Even Edgar got in on the action.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun and laughing, even if it’s not with me. I miss you.”
She moves up another rung on the ladder, getting a fraction closer. “I miss you too. Only a few weeks left and then I’ll bore you with how often I’m around.”
“Not possible,” I say. “But is there any chance you can come visit me for a few minutes after dinner? We can talk about anything you want. You can tell me the simplified version of what the scientific world thinks happened to all the crabs.”
Gifting me her best smile, she cheerfully replies, “It’s a date. Now, I better get back to work. These crabs won’t measure and record their own data. I love you, Henrik.”
“I love you too.”
Carina disappears down the ladder, and I turn back to the ocean, filled with excitement for her visit tonight.
Listening to the banter between the researchers and my crew is heartwarming, and Carina is in the middle of it all, bringing her light and laughter to all around her.
These days on the boat seem to last forever.
During crab season, you’re so busy, you don’t know when one day turns into the next.
If you have any downtime, you grab a meal and some sleep.
Today, I’m painfully aware of just how many hours, minutes, and seconds there are in the day.
They’re dragging by painfully slow. Evening can’t come soon enough.
At least with the trawl survey, I have a good idea when dinner is going to be.
When six rolls around, I’m a mess. I’m eager to see her.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, noticing my chest feels tight.
Trying to calm myself, I blow out a breath.
Shifting in my chair, I check the clock for the twentieth time.
My ears strain, listening for any noise to indicate she’s headed up to the wheelhouse, as she usually brings me dinner about now.
The thought of food makes me frown. My stomach is so jumpy, I’m not sure I can eat.
I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin. This is worse than our first date.
The sweetest voice saying, “I hope you’re hungry,” floats up the ladder before my gorgeous girlfriend comes into view. Hearing her is all it takes to erase my anxiety. And I feel a sense of calm wash over me when I catch sight of her.
“Hey there, beautiful,” I say as she moves closer.
My gaze lazily traces over her entire body.
Appreciating all I see, I feel the pull of the gigantic smile I’m undoubtedly wearing.
Damn, she’s gorgeous. I laugh when I read her oversized sweatshirt.
Hanging off her naked shoulder, it’s maroon with a black crab on it, and it says Don’t be crabby.
“Were you thinking of me when you bought that?”
With her free hand, she tugs at the hem. “This old thing? Nah, I’ve had it for ages,” she says with a wink.
“Sure, you have,” I reply as she sets my dinner down. I see two plates covered with tinfoil. “Thank you for dinner, but I don’t think I’m that hungry.”
Carina pulls silverware from the pocket of her sweatshirt, and I’m confused when I see she’s holding two forks.
“It’s not all for you. I thought I’d join you for dinner.
Everyone on the boat knows we’re dating, so as long as we behave ourselves, I don’t see a problem with us spending a little time together and sharing a meal and conversation. ”
“That’s very mature of you.” I lick my lips. “Although I’m not sure I can be trusted to behave.”
She scoffs, sets my fork down, grabs the plate off the top, and turns away. Is she leaving? “Stop. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll do anything to spend a little time with you,” I call out.
When she reaches the other chair on the opposite side of the wheelhouse and stops, I groan. She turns around with a smirk. “I know, but I’m still removing the temptation and sitting over here.”
Dinner today is spaghetti, and you’d think from the constant smile on my face that it’s delicious. It isn’t, but my dinner guest is. When we’re about halfway through our meal, I look at her. “I have a question.”
Nodding, she finishes the bite in her mouth.
“Why did the atmosphere on deck seem more relaxed and happy today?”
Carina dazzles me with a full-toothed smile. “Because for the last few weeks, we’ve been seeing great numbers of opilio crab. It looks like the species is doing a wonderful job of repopulating.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. Did scientists ever conclude what happened to the ten billion crab that disappeared?”
She sighs. “They’re confident they died because of environmental factors. In order for the crab population to thrive, the ocean needs to maintain a particular environment. It needs to be habitable. And for several years, it wasn’t.
“Whether you believe it or not, global warming is real, and temperatures and weather around the world are changing. For places like the Bering Sea, those changes are catastrophic, and we had a taste of that with the opies.
“Because of its location, we expect the Bering Sea to maintain a certain temperature in both the air and ocean. With warmer temperatures, less sea ice formed, which affected the bottom of the ocean. In the spring, when the ice melts and the cold, dense water sinks to the ocean floor, it provides the perfect habitat for the Opilio crabs. Because of the higher temperatures, this habitat was not sustainable, and the crabs couldn’t survive. ”
I shake my head sadly. “I don’t see global warming going away. Do you think this will be an ongoing problem? In five or ten years, will this species even exist?”
Like she’s trying to get closer but still enforce the boundaries, Carina scoots up in her chair. “I wish I had the answer for you, but I don’t know. What I know is, right now, the temperatures are showing at an acceptable level, and it looks like the species is working hard to make a comeback.”
“Yeah? You can tell that from what you’ve been researching?”
She lifts her shoulders, sits up straight, and confidently nods. “That and so much more. So many species other than the opilio have been affected. NOAA and the state are committed to keeping on top of this and protecting our fisheries.”
Amazed by her, I unabashedly stare. Under my perusal, her cheeks pinken and a smile forms on her kissable lips. “What?”
“You’re amazing. I’m completely blown away by you. You are the smartest person I know. You have the biggest heart. You’re funny. You know how to handle me. And you’re so fucking sexy, it hurts.”
“You aren’t so bad yourself. And I can’t wait to show you,” she says with a grin.
Eager for that myself, my mind recalls all the fantasies I’ve repressed since the survey started. With only three weeks left, give or take a day, I’m hanging on by a thread. I’m ashamed to admit how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower, knowing she’s only feet away.
“Henrik,” Carina says, and I blink repeatedly, clearing the daze I’m in.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Are you okay? You were making a strange face. It was a sort of goofy grin.”
Goofy grin? I bet it was.
Chuckling, I apologize. “Sorry. I’m good. Just thinking of all the things I’m going to do to you when we get off this boat.”
Her eyes light up and she squeezes her thighs together. I lick my lips, wishing I were licking hers.
“We should probably talk about something else before I break the rules and make my fantasies a reality.” Her blush darkens as she nods.
Swallowing hard, she bites her lip. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“This boat is called the FV Brina and Eirik’s is the FV Emilie, right?” I nod. Where’s she going with this? “But I’ve heard you call them something else, something dirtier. Why?”
I bark out a laugh, and a smile spreads to my lips. “Do you remember what you’ve heard them called?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I remember they’re clever puns.”
“I call my boat The Master Baiter, and Eirik calls his The Wasted Seaman.”
Carina’s melodic laugh fills the wheelhouse. “Those are perfect,” she wheezes, her breath short from laughing.