22. Seth
Seth
It feels good to be back out on the water again.
I have a skiff I use in the creeks, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve spent the night on a boat for pleasure rather than work.
Nick’s cuddy cabin boat is perfect though.
Twenty-eight feet, with a V-shaped berth that fits the two of us comfortably enough for sleeping and plenty of deck space for fishing.
Not that we’ve done any of that the last two days.
So far, we’ve just been cruising around the Cook Inlet, talking about life and taking in the mountain views during the slim daylight hours.
When night falls, we settle into a protected anchorage, Nick whips up something that has no business tasting as good as it does with a single burner, single pot, and single spoon, and we have dinner on deck, bundled in several layers of clothing and blankets.
I don’t know why I got him those gloves—the single thing that made it with him off the Suoja—because he’s insisted that I keep them on until we tuck in for the night. My hands aren’t that cold, but I’m okay with placating him.
I hoped coming out here would be healing for him, but I find it is for me, too. A part of me still recoils when I see a chunk of sea ice and a hazy memory comes back. The vacant chill as my body started shutting down.
But can anything worth living for exist without danger?
Can you appreciate warm, sunny summer days without the icy, mellow winters? Can you truly love someone without the fear of losing them?
It’s all balance. Balance is the feeling that comes to me out here. I can only hope this trip is helping Nick find his balance again, too.
So far, I’ve done all the driving as promised, but sometimes he watches me with more intent than simple admiration. He looks restless sitting beside me. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not the one steering.
Like he misses it.
I don’t entirely know what he’s going through right now, so I don’t want to pressure him, but at the same time he’s seemed better lately. The nightmares have calmed. He’s been opening up to me about his therapy sessions—I’ve even gone to a few with him.
He’s able to talk about the future, about moving in together, adopting a dog. And these days, I hardly ever see that tinge of guilt.
“There’s a spot up by the island here that’s really cool during the winter,” Nick mentions, pointing out the small blip of green on the nav screen. “We’ll have to be careful getting through. Tide’s going out, and you can get stuck if you don’t anchor in just the right place, but… it’s worth it.”
He’s not kidding. The water has been glassy for hours now, the movement of the wind and water in sync, but the tides can get crazy in the inlet.
30-foot swings in and out, every six hours.
Navigable ocean can turn into miles upon miles of mudflats, and when the tide comes back in, you can find yourself caught up in whitewater rapids if you anchor in the wrong location.
Though I’m nowhere near as comfortable with these waters as Nick is, I don’t doubt that I could follow his instructions to a T. But at the same time… this is his domain. He deserves to know that. To believe in himself as much as I do.
I look from the screen to him, shuffling a half-step to the side. “Do you wanna get us there, Captain?”
Nick stares at the wheel long enough to count the creases in my knuckles. For a second, I think I might’ve misjudged the wistful look on his face, but then he steps over.
I let go of the lacquered wood, and his left hand wraps around it, the right one resting comfortably on the throttle while those gray-blue eyes scan the horizon, taking in every little detail.
It’s the exact posture I’ve seen him in countless times, but this time I can’t stop appreciating how natural it is to him.
This is where Nick is most in his element. The first version of him I fell in love with, before discovering how much I love all the others.
“So.” I rest an arm around the back of his chair as he hangs a left and finally relaxes enough to sit back. “How’s it feel?”
“Easy.” He breathes deeply. “Way easier than I thought it would.”
The mountainous coast we’ve been hugging grows distant as we head further into the inlet. The water becomes murky and slushy, churning against the hull until eventually the sound crisps. Raised discs of pancake ice crunching beneath metal.
“I keep waiting for it to hit me. Panic, or… something.” Nick grips the wheel.
“Every day leading up to this, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Kept imagining everything that could go wrong, what would happen if it did, but now I’m…
calm. I’ve thought about that night so many times, I forgot all the nights before.
I can’t believe I forgot how much I love it here. ”
I place a kiss on his shoulder, though I doubt he can feel it through three layers of shirts. “We’ll just have to make the new memories even better then.”
Finally, he gives me the smile I’ve been waiting to see. One that looks confident. Hopeful. “They already are.”
The southern tip of the island comes into view, and Nick maneuvers carefully through the towering shelves of ice that pave the way into the deep-water bight where we’ll be anchoring—shielded from the wind with plenty of leeway for the tide fluctuations.
“We’re just in time,” Nick says as he swings the bow around like second nature.
“Yeah.” I look out the windows. “Light’s fading.”
He shakes his head, flipping the switch to drop the anchor. “Not that. You’ll see.”
I tilt my head, but follow him out to the bow as soon as he’s done. Standing there while he checks the anchor line and searching for whatever it is I’m supposed to see.
Nick sits with his back propped against the front windshield of the wheelhouse, one knee bent with his foot kicked up on the hatch that opens and leads down into the berth. He pats the spot beside him, and I sit.
“Beluga whales?” I ask, scanning the water for any flashes of moving white that might stand apart from the ice.
“Occasionally. But this time…” He points to walls of glacial ice we passed through, and my eyes follow the path of his finger. “Just another minute…”
I wait, silently. And the effect creeps in.
The setting sun curves lower, lower. The ice starts to sparkle and glow, and then… there. At precisely the right angle, sun rays illuminate the glaciers from within. Suddenly, we’re surrounded by a brilliant maze of neon, glittering, sapphire blue.
“Woah,” I say dumbly.
Sometimes there are no better words. Nature might be able to whup your ass, but it can also smack you speechless.
“Isn’t it cool?” he says proudly. That pioneer in him is coming back out, flexing its muscles after being cooped up for too long.
“It’s fucking beautiful,” I say, glancing at him. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t find out what all those glowing, wintery blues look like reflected in his eyes.
Yeah. That’s fucking beautiful, too.
He notices and pulls me into a kiss, casting an arm around my shoulders as we watch the sun set and the glow fade.
In this basin, the waves are docile, lapping things.
Nudging ice chunks against the hull of the boat until they scrape.
Beyond that sound, a softer noise joins the chorus.
Something ringing, whistling. Like a wet finger around the rim of a crystal wine glass.
“Is that the ice?” I ask.
Nick hums, his smile broadening. “This is one of my favorite spots in the whole inlet.”
“See?” I huddle closer. “The cold has its benefits.”
He immediately pulls away. “Are you cold?”
Wrong choice of words. I should’ve learned my lesson.
“I’m good.” I chuckle. “I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll be back.”
I’d argue that I really am fine, but I know there’s no talking him out of it.
In all honesty, it’s nice to be coddled a little too hard.
It’s not the sort of feeling you ever get to experience as a rambunctious young boy, or a greenhorn working for grizzled old Captains, or a man who’s used to coming home to take care of things for his family—not to be taken care of.
But Nicky comes back with a big, fluffy blanket and two cups of hot chocolate that I can smell from six feet away because of how deliciously rich he makes that shit. He wraps the blanket around my shoulders, plants a warm paper cup in my hand, and sits back down.
“Better?”
I open the blanket and fold him inside with me. “Yep.” I take a sip of the cocoa. “Better now.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the ice. I mean, I did. But not like…” he trails off, hugging me.
“Hey, don’t.” I take hold of his chin and bring his eyes to mine. “How boring would life be if we never took risks?”
He watches me for a moment, as if he’s trying to read how much I believe in my own words.
He won’t have to look far. The ice, the lightning.
The wind, water, and wildlife. Fishing the Bering Sea may be one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, but danger means you get to see the rare pockets of beauty—like this—in corners of the planet everyone else will never see.
“You’re unreal,” Nick says.
“How’s that?”
“You’re so… fearless. I know you don’t remember everything, but the memories you do have must be awful. Everything leading up to the jump. The ice piling and piling, and… I know you had to know something was wrong. You could tell, couldn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I say softly. “And I wasn’t fearless.
I was fucking scared that night, Nicky. More than I’ve ever been, but not because of the boat capsizing or the hypothermia.
I spent four years falling in love with you, thinking you’d never love me back.
Thinking I was meant to be your person, even though you could never be mine in all the ways I needed.
And when I finally got to have you, I thought…
that was it. I wanted so much more time with you, but maybe that was all I got.
“So no. I’m not fearless. My fear just makes me wanna enjoy the time I get with you for as long as I can. And your strength is what makes the rest of it easy on me. Because I know that as long as I have you… everything else will be okay.”
He kisses the top of my head, falling quiet for a moment. “I think I’m finally starting to understand what that’s like. I wasn’t sure if everything would be okay again for me, either. But maybe I’m doing better than I ever was before.”
I smile at him, getting ready to say something at least halfway sentimental before I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and shout, “Oh shit!” instead.
“What?” he asks frantically before he sees where I’m pointing. The distinct white fluke jutting out of the water, and then another.
“You weren’t kidding about the belugas. Think you can call them over here, my little whale?”
He breathes a laugh into his hot chocolate cup.
Turning his attention to the pod as they travel away from our anchorage, leaving with the tide.
He wets his lips, the corners of them pulling tight as his brows bunch together and he does that insane trick again.
The man’s a living, breathing human with echolocation.
“I have no clue how you do that,” I say. “But I love it.”
He shrugs. “It’s not so different from whistling. Just requires more throat control.”
“Mm. I guess I do have a clue then.”
It’s a shame there’s not enough sun left to see Nick’s blush.
The last of the light disappears on the horizon, and so do the beluga whales, leaving us alone beneath the wide-open night sky. The kind of isolation that makes it feel like we’re the only two people who have ever seen this exact pattern of stars.
Nick snuggles a little closer, and I can smell the rich chocolate on his breath. Taste the sweetness in the air as it sweeps past my lips. Feel my hair catching on his stubble as I turn my head.
Another decadent gust of breath forms a cloud between us, hitching ever so slightly as my mouth brushes his. A whisper of a kiss before I devour him. Creamy remnants of chocolate trade between our tongues until the sugar dissolves and leaves nothing but the taste of Nick.
“I’m not cold,” I preface, smiling against his lips, “but I wanna go inside now, Nicky.”
He takes my cup, crushing both in his fist as he gets up to open the hatch. “Me too.”