bisclavret's blog: "Writings..."

Title: Starting Late
Characters: Gavin Draegun
Time:  Sunday, January 16, 2005
Location: Gavin's flat, and aboard the fishing boat 'Glastonbury Tor'
Writer: Dano

Gavin looked out across the docks to the blue water beyond. A warm breeze tousled his straggly red hair through the open window. It was another perfect day in paradise. Gulls spun and wheeled through the clear sky, following the outbound fishing boats.

"Shit," he thought, "late again." He downed half a cup of lukewarm coffee and headed for his boat.

At least it wasn't cold outside. He loved the English winter, but the cold had started to seep into his bones the past few decades. His power base, the green things of the earth, faded in winter.At least it did in northern winters, which is why he was here in the Carribbean.

His sandals slapped on the pavement as he reached the dock. A few stragglers, mostly tourists, were sitting around looking for a boat. Eleven tourists, and on just a half cup of cool coffee. At twenty bucks a head it would barely cover expenses. Gavin weighed the two, and opted to go out. It was, after all, the noble way out- it wasn't their fault he had slept late. He thought of the warm brown arms that had twined around him the night before, and smiled to himself.

Gavin stepped lightly aboard the less than beautiful head boat. The Glastonbury Tor needed a fresh coat of paint, and her decks could use a fresh coat of wood as well. He fired up the ancient diesel with a puff of black smoke like a dragon's belch. As the engine idled and warmed loudly, Gavin walked amidships to greet his customers.

The line on the dock was all male, not unusual. Many of them were regular customers, with a few tourists mixed in. There was about twenty five in all, better than he had estimated earlier.

"'Morning, mates," he said to the line of men on the docks, "twenty American for the morning out, and I'll stay out a little into the afternoon for startin' late." Gavin collected the money as they entered with few words, threw off the lines, and went back to the wheelhouse. When they seemed to have sorted themselves out, he pulled slowly from the dock and pointed the G.Tor's bow at the blue Carribbean. It promised to be a fine, albeit late, day.

Much later the G'Tor wended it's way back through her already moored companions. It had been a good run, and the head boat's customers had plenty of catch. Gavin had a reputation for finding fish even on the worst days, and today was no exception, the small keg he used as a tip bowl was generously enhanced. He wished them each a good afternoon and saw to the aging boat's needs.

It was almost dusk when the last of the gear was stowed and Gavin headed for home. The flat was dark as he entered, and he called out, "Allo, luv!" into the darkness, expecting a reply. None came.

He switched on a light and almost immediatly saw the note.

"Dearest," it began, "I'm sorry to leave you this way. You have a way of pulling someone into your semi- dream existence, and when I'm around you I don't want to leave. You have a way of growing into a person, of rooting them to yourself. I will not live as long as you, (how long I wonder, my love? You've never told me.) My life is mortally short. The three years that we spent together are an eyeblink to you, but are almost a tenth of my entire life. I need a family, a home that is permanent to me, and someone to grow old with. Forgive me, my love. I will never forget you, but never for me is different than never for you.
"All my love, Naomi,"

Gavin sighed. Well, it *had* been a good day. If he could have grown old with someone, it would have been with Naomi. He was growing old, but like a noble oak and not a man. Looking around the flat, he decided not to stay there this evening. Perhaps he could numb the emptiness in drink, and sleep the night in the arms of his other mistress, the G'Tor.

Taking his tip money, Gavin headed back to the dock area, and the bar know as One Eye's.