Cross Passage

"Fuck that, Tammy. I could have fucked a hundred desirable women over the years, kept one in every port but I didn't."

What she wanted to say but didn't was that once she started fucking strange she wanted to continue. I had no way of knowing how many there were or how many there would be down the road. That old saying absence makes the heart grow fonder seems to be rubbish in this case.

We looked at each other knowing this was the end and I no longer had an appetite, just sadness after twenty years. Maybe she held out hope I'd be there again when she sorted out the desires in her head. Maybe she already had but I couldn't trust her regardless. I couldn't share with her any plans I might have other than to just know I wouldn't be there for her anymore and that's where we left it. She didn't know about Kirsten and I didn't see any need to tell her; what I did with Kirsten occurred after I removed the ring knowing it was over...

"Maximillian's Golden IPA on deck!" He announced over the mic. Satch moseyed over. "Fat lady sang her song?"

I nodded and sipped the thin layer of froth. The fat lady had not only sung but the curtain fell too. Tammy signed the papers and we settled the accounts allowing the final decree to take effect a few months later.

Dahlberg had moved on to Toronto. Rumors on the grapevine had him staying as far as he could from Tammy but I tried not to care. Sophie Pryor divorced her toad and Thomas ended up moving into a townhouse in North Charleston, not the address he aspired to.

"Satch, you ever think about tossing the towel and heading to that island you always dream about?"

"Man, I give it some thought every once in a while but look at me. I got my own place with all these mamas coming in here, I'm big, black and beautiful and I got my boys there to play with." He said pointing to his sax over in the corner. Then he flashed me his trademark white smile.

"I'll get there someday, man."

A round was purchased for the regulars and headed out the door and up toward Anson Street with a light mist of rain in the air...

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I pushed the bell on the door frame at the townhouse on Helgolander Straße and heard the footsteps approaching. When the door opened a young lady stood before me, a twentyish version of Kirsten herself.

"You must be Marlene." I said as I extended my hand.

"Yes, Mr. Bunyon. Mama told me you would be stopping by today. Please come in."

"Please, call me Max."

I followed her into the parlor leaving my bag in the foyer as she ushered me to make myself comfortable. Having boarded to young ladies her age for over twenty five years now, I had become accustomed to varying degrees of beauty and the not so beautiful. Marlene was in a class of her own. Any man who charmed this young woman had better thank his lucky stars for such good fortune.

"Mama said she would be here in time for lunch." She set the tea before me and sat opposite. "She has been pretty excited for days."

It wasn't but a few moments before the front door opened and Kirsten walked in seeing the two of us sitting there and was soon followed by her father Denis. She rushed over and gave me a hug and a kiss and Denis shook my hand.

Lunch was pleasant and after the table was cleared Kirsten and I sat in the courtyard and enjoyed a moment before putting the bags in the trunk of her car. Marlene was going to drive us down to Frankfurt am Main and then she would continue on to Würzburg...

It was 10 O'clock the next morning when we picked up a rental and drove down to Castine on Penobscot Bay. Our flight had come into Bangor and we had an hours ride to get there. I had promised Kirsten several months ago to take her to Downeast Maine and with the colors of fall around us and the warmth of a mild day, it was a perfect season. I had a cottage rental for a week and all we needed to do was pick up some groceries and get comfortable, except for that one other thing.

"Mr. Bunyon, may I call you Max?" the distinguished gentleman asked.

"By all means. I'll keep referring to you as Dean Gardner if you don't object."

We both chuckled as the Dean of Maine Maritime Academy ushered me into his office overlooking Castine Bay. It had happened by happenstance as I ran into an old MMA acquaintance that was running a cruise ship out of Ft. Lauderdale. He called a friend who called another friend who in turn had the Dean call me. Now, it was to hash out the final terms of a contract to teach engineering as an adjunct professor at the Academy. We shook on an agreement and a short time later I was motoring toward the rental cottage down near the Dyce Head Lighthouse.

"You got it, didn't you?" Kirsten exclaimed when she saw my beaming face.

"Of course I did. You didn't doubt it, did you?" I replied as I swept her up in my arms and carried her to the soft bed.

"I want to fuck you to celebrate."

"Eat me first."

"Blow me"

So I did and she did and we fucked the rest of the afternoon away in blissful carelessness before cleaning up for a lobster pot dinner at a roadside shack a short ways down the road. It wasn't her first time with a lobster but it was her first time with the fixings, potatoes and corn and steamer clams along with the two pounders.

The next day we had some decisions to make; where did we want to live and for how long. I still had Anson Street and she still had her spot at her family home in Bremerhaven and now I had a part time position here in Castine. We were sitting off Dyce Head looking out across the bay to Islesboro when Kirsten said "Why not out there?"

"Well, the ferry runs you to the other side of the bay and not over here. I'd have to take the ferry to Lincolnville and then drive for over an hour to get to Castine. I'd have to have my own boat to get here."

"You're a captain, Max. This is pretty simple, isn't it?" She looked at me with one of those expressions women make when they can't believe how stupid we men are on some things.

Later that evening I was online looking up used boats and found a couple that were perfect, one in particular. It was a former lobster boat that had been converted into a small pleasure boat for an older couple on Vinalhaven. It had a rebuilt Cummins diesel with only 200 hours on it. A couple days later and $20,000 poorer, it was mine.

Kirsten found the house. It was a white clapboard sided cottage with a view toward Castine and a moderately short walk down to a dock where I could get a slip at a reasonable price. It wasn't cheap but it had a garden spot and a tavern a mile or so south. I put down a deposit and the owner let me rent it until we closed. We were official Islesboro residents.

"Jesus, Max, fuck me like I'm one of your sailor port wenches." She whispered being serious.

I burst out in laughter simply because I didn't have any sailor port wenches except her which excited her more when I called her that.

"Fuck, that's nice." She exclaimed as my prick worked her pussy hard and fast. She picked up her pace and began grunting her orgasm with her tongue at my throat.

"Wench"

"Fucking sailor"

We both came together and laid back resting with the window open as the terns squawked on the white picket fence.

"Eat me again."

That was the pace for the rest of our stay...

I was assigned a six week pipe fitting class for freshmen along with oversight responsibilities for some work being done on the TS State of Maine, the MMA training vessel at port in the harbor. I'd be wrapped up before Thanksgiving and the holidays so Kirsten and I made plans to go to Charleston before flying back to Germany...

Anson Street had its array of sightseers and students milling about the shops and venues as we walked up from the market. Satch had recommended a lady friend of his to manage any property matters for the house in my absence and the girls in residence were pretty dependable.

I turned the latch key and entered with everything almost as if I had never left. I had made sure the girls knew they could use the downstairs as they wished as long as they kept it picked up and they had except for the sole pair of lavender and pink panties that lay at the stoop of the stairs; laundry drop I supposed as I winked at Kirsten.

It had been a long travel day so after ordering some Chinese takeout and sharing a bottle of wine we called it a night after a slow, gentle love making in the bed.

Only one of the girls was in the house when we got up; the other three had gone home for the holiday so we invited her to share Thanksgiving with us at Caroline's, a trendy restaurant off East Bay along with Satch and a couple other old time stranglers.

Everybody had a great time and after inviting the table back to the house, Satch and I were relaxing on the step out front enjoying a good cigar and a bottle of top shelf bourbon.

"Man, you know I'd had my ear out working for you. Did you know your old missus was raising all kinds of hell at the college; accused her boss of sexual harassment and then a couple more teachers came out and accused him as well? Hell it was in the papers. I think he's in the shits and folks are saying he's either going to resign or get his ass fired."

"That fucking toad Pryor." I laughed as the neat taste of the bourbon hit my lip.

"Yeah, well, your old missus isn't doing so well either, you know. She's been on a drunken binge for months now; ever since the two of you split up. She came into my place about a week ago, liquored up, asking about you and left a couple hours later with some horn dog player."

"That's been her problem all along, Satch. She likes the strange too much. Hell, I'm surprised she hasn't offered it up to you too."

He looked at me just a tad bit strange and then I realized it.

"She has hasn't she? Jesus Christ." I laughed. "Did you do her?"

"No, man, you and I go back too far for that shit. I mean she's fine and all and if she was somebody else's bitch I'd have tapped that on day one but she's heavy baggage and as long as you two living, she's still your wife even if you are divorced.

"So what about that fine woman you with now? Kirsten and you gonna get married or what?"

Maybe it was the bourbon or the wistful thoughts swirling around in the puffs of cigar smoke in the air. I'd marry Kirsten if we were both in a marrying kind of place but for now neither of us was going down that path. We were both divorced adults who loved where we were and life was fun now. Why fuck it up?

"Satch, I don't know. Maybe someday that will happen but for now I get to play at life here, up in Maine and even over in Europe. It's working well the way it is. We'll see."

"Tammy would crawl on her hands and knees over glass if you gave her the chance."

"Yeah, she would but she'd have to crawl off whatever big dick she's enjoying before she could do that."

We both chuckled at it but it left a sad spot deep inside. Tammy and I had pretty much said everything that needed to be said months ago but the path she was on bothered me. I didn't look at love like a spigot and I never wanted to; there were too many years as one to treat it as a commodity...

It had been a long time since I had driven to the bungalow along the Ashley River marshes. I think the last time was when Tammy wanted to do some remodeling before her sister moved in after her marriage imploded. The sisters were living together now.

I waited at the door after ringing the bell for a few moments before Patty came around the side of the house with a toddler in her arms. That was new.

"Hi, Max. If you are looking for Tammy, she's not here."

"That's OK; I was actually hoping to talk with you for a bit."

"Hey, I don't want to get in the middle of what went on with you two. -- " I cut her off softly. "It's not that. She's your sister and I've got some concerns from what I've heard."

Patty looked off to the side biting her lip.

"I've heard she's not doing so well and I'd like to help if I can."

She invited me around the back side to the patio and offered sweet tea.

"She knows you've hooked up with someone new, Max and I think that's what kick started the slide. I don't know what to do. She goes out drinking every night and started bringing guys back here until I told her no way around the baby."

"Well, I want her to do something and she'll know it means she would have to quit the booze. I want her to start being the house mom for the girls at the house. I've got four of them rooming now and I'm thinking of adding two more but I need someone responsible to look in and manage affairs."

"I thought you already had someone looking after the place?" Patty asked quizzically.

"I do or at least someone who makes sure the utilities get paid and anything broken gets fixed but with half a dozen students living there it would be good for them to have a faculty 'mom' look after them on occasion."

I could see the wheels turning in Patty's mind. We both knew Tammy wasn't an alcoholic. This was her crutch and she needed another one for a while. I'd deal with the fall out eventually but that could wait.

"What's the boy's name?" I asked. She looked flustered at first.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Max. I should have introduced him when you first got here. This is Charlie... long story but I won't bore you." She tried to laugh but struggled. I could only wonder. Patty agreed to talk with Tammy and have her call me if she was interested.

It didn't take long for the call to come. The sisters had talked and Tammy had expressed how much she missed interacting with the girls on occasion. She was subdued about it, never mentioning Kirsten or pushing for any information. We set the ground rules; no drunkenness around the girls, none of her men in my house ever and she had to register with the Dean of Student Affairs as an off campus mentor.

It was the last point that held her feet to the fire. If she fucked up bad, she was putting her tenure at risk; she had to rein in her behavior and actions. Whether she saw this as an opportunity to keep a foothold in my life or not didn't matter at the time. She wasn't taking up residence in the house and her interactions would be two or three times a week at most. Besides, I'd be in Maine with Kirsten in any event.

"You know you'll have to deal with her at some point again, don't you?" Kirsten asked me in bed one evening before we flew back.

"Maybe, we'll see."

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The sky overhead was a brilliant blue with the morning sun approaching mid-day as we bobbed on the ocean waves. The little girl struggled to open the pot on deck after I had hoisted it out of the water moments earlier but she was so persistent in doing it I sat back and watched her efforts. The grimace was set and the gloves to the elbows as the hatch opened and she reached inside.

I'm sure the dark green crustacean with his large claws had other plans but she pulled him out and dropped him in the white plastic bucket at her feet to join the four others we gathered earlier.

We were about a hundred yards off the dock with my eight yellow and black buoys each holding a lobster trap on the ocean floor. The girl's mother stood on the dock watching us, ever diligent on our progress. The little girl, Etta, waved at her mom as we motored our way back to the mooring. Etta was named after Marlene's grandmother and Kirsten's mother and at the abundantly young age of six she was precocious in all manner of things.

"Sei vorsichtig, Etta." Marlene called out.

I lifted the girl out of the boat and she scampered off to her mother as I turned back to the task of securing the rigging and fetching our dinner. I paused at the dock and looked out to sea with the far shore a mile away. I was home now, where I used to be when I was young and learning the rigors of adolescence and coming adulthood.

The age of sixty was fast approaching and both Kirsten and I had settled comfortably on Islesboro. She would turn fifty in the fall and still looked as delicious as when I first saw her. She gave me wood when she rubbed my back in just the right way and she still loved grasping that old headboard for a ride late in the evening.

We had not been back to Charleston since I sold the house on Anson Street a couple years earlier to the College of Charleston for use as off campus housing for the Arts and Humanities department. Tammy was instrumental in bringing the parties together for that after she had assumed a significant role as the new department Dean. She quit drinking altogether and still lives with her sister in West Ashley helping to raise her nephew Charlie. According to Patty, she hasn't had a significant other in her life since we divorced.

Satch sold Henry's House and invested a small portion of the proceeds in a dive bar in Key West taking a pretty little blond woman half his age along with him. I still can't see him trying it for a fourth time but they seemed pretty happy when they visited here last summer.

It was a soft summer evening when Kirsten and I were walking along our country island lane to stop at the tavern for ale. We came up on the Community Church and Meeting Hall for the north end. We both stood there looking at it for a bit.

"Think this will do?"

"Well, it doesn't have a steeple but it's white." And we continued our stroll to the tavern.

MFH