Life After Love

“My life, my lover, my lady is the sea,” I told her, as I tossed down a twenty.

“But I know I can never meet another person like you,” she sobbed.

“Perhaps not doll, but I can’t stay,” I grabbed my blue coat.

“Can I have anything to remember you by?” She pressed. I searched my pockets, but there wasn’t much more than lint. “A lock of your hair?” I was at once weirded out, and amused.

“Sure, doll,” I chuckled, then pulled out a few strands. It hurt, but I guess it was a lesser pain than that which I was leaving her with. She held them close to her heart.

“Goodbye Jimmy,” she choked. The memories of our two weeks together streaking down her face.

When I had come ashore a fortnight before, my home sat waiting for me in the bay that housed a hundred ships a day. Sailors pass the time away in many ways, and I had a wandering mind. I needed to explore the city. My first real stop was a small café near the water, where I had met her. Her name was Ethel, but it didn’t seem to fit her beautiful, long golden locks and delicate eyes. She was kind, and chatty.

I had only stopped in for some eggs and coffee, but her sunny personality was infectious and kept me enthralled in casual exchanges. She offered to show me around town after her shift, and I graciously accepted.

We met at the pier; she was a bombshell in red. I wore my usual blue jeans and button-up, which she admitted to being “very sexy.” Through dimly lit bars that stunk of old cigarettes, to charming beach-side bistros, conversation flowed easily. Her smile beamed at every joke, and her movements reminded me of the water. When I bade her goodnight, she hesitated, then that same smile. I gave her a small hug and went to my home.

We found each others’ company many times during the next 10 days, and I looked forward to our banter. Still, as my departure date approached, she grew melancholy. When I asked her why, she shrugged it off best she could and tried to keep the energy up. But I could see a heavy weight resting in her eyes.

At dinner, two nights before my scheduled departure, I was pouring her a third glass of red, when she said: “I can’t hold it in, any longer!”

I sighed, and prepared for what I knew to be the next words.

“Am I the only one feeling this? You are so perfect, and I am falling for you.” She blurted out, maybe a tad too loud.

“I see,” my eyes drifted to the door.

“You are gorgeous, funny, and kind,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I feel something between us, a spark or something.”

“Yes, we share a special connection, doll.”

“Can’t we see where it goes?”

“Doll, I am leaving in two days,” I placed my hand on her shoulder, reassuringly.

“We can make the best of them, then keep in touch until you can return!” She smiled at my touch.

“I can’t…” I brought my hand back, reaching for my wallet.

“But why, Jimmy? Don’t you feel it, too?”

“I’m sorry doll, but I don’t think we’re feeling the same thing.”

At this, tears poured easily without the slightest whimper. Her shining brown eyes were like looking at a sunset, but I couldn’t sit by and enjoy her beautiful pain, it was cruel. I stood, saying: “I’m sorry, I think I should go.” She simply nodded, letting her hair fall over her eyes.

I didn’t reach out to her again, but felt wrong in departing that way. I found her one last time at her café, the light in her face was gone and her eyes puffy. I ordered a coffee and some toast, which she brought with a clear look of defeat.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. She took that to mean an invite to sit, and poured out her heart. I couldn’t stand the pain in her eyes, but she didn’t know that my heart could never belong to her. I didn’t wish to steal the happiness she had felt in anticipation of a much different outcome, and said: “My life, my lover, my lady is the sea.” I tossed down a twenty for a significant tip, as though it would pay for her broken heart.

“But I know I can never meet another person like you,” she sobbed.

“Perhaps not doll, but I can’t stay,” I grabbed my blue coat.

“Can I have anything to remember you by?”

As I walked back to the ship, my scalp throbbed a bit. I looked back toward the café, and smiled, hoping she would feel my goodwill despite my lie. Ruben walked up.

“How did it go?” he asked, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“About as expected,” I admitted.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, then planted a soft kiss on my lips. I smiled, wrapping my arms around the love of my life.