OCEAN DREAMS: Part 5: My Own Marina!

FAIR WARNING THIS IS FICTION, and ADULT Themed. NAUGHTY WORDS AHEAD. NOT my usual garden stuff. Nor photography. ADULT fiction.
PLEASE take a moment and catch up!
PART ONE: Ocean Dreams: Part 1: Heart Ripped Assunder
PART TWO: Ocean Dreams: Part 2: Picking Myself Off The Deck
PART THREE: Ocean Dreams: Part 3: A Mystery To Me

---

PART FOUR: Ocean Dreams Part 4: Can We Talk? From the end of Part 4:

I asked her, in awe, “Who are you?”

“Maybe it’s my turn to tell you a little about myself?”

---

And now, continuing to PART FIVE

She stood, poured herself a hefty drink, and one for me. Then, came to the table, put the drinks on the galley table, and sat across from me.

At first, she said nothing. Looking down into the drink glass, for quite some time. Finally, deep breath in, her shoulders rose, and she looked up, at my face. Her eyes, though, were staring right thru me, ...past me, and a thousand yards away.

“I met him when I was 17. We were young, and, in love. He was so strong, funny, and caring. At first. He took care of me. My mom was a mess. My father left us, when I was maybe 6 or 7. I’d never really knew him. Mom was always going out with friends, leaving me and my father alone at night. She’d come home while I was asleep, or maybe the next day. Always went right to bed. Sometimes, her friends would drive her home, and carry her inside. Mom was a mess. My family was always a mess, the house was nothing but a place for yelling. A mess…

“Then my father left.” She was silent, then. She sat and stared. I thought she was done. But I waited.

“Mom never changed. After he left, she did the same thing. Out most nights with the other ladies on the block. Most times, getting home late while I slept, but again, some days, I’d wake myself, make a bowl of cereal, and get myself to School without her being home. Thank god for Cheerios, and Cornflakes. I don’t know how I would have made it otherwise. I was 7, so cooking was not a thing. Not yet, anyway.

“Years later, on my usual trip to the laundry, pulling my cart, I met him. He was leaning against a railing outside the store next door, the Mini-mart. He smiled, and I dunno, something happened. I guess, hormones, looking back on it. What did I know… at that time? I was 17. My mind didn’t know anything about relationships and my body? It was all hormones.

“Anyway, it didn't take long 'til he was in my panties. And I thought I was in love. Soon after, we were living together. Next thing I know, I am 18, married, and he... he changed. Once he had me, he started controlling me. Slowly, like the boiled crabs, slowly, turned up the heat. I never noticed it.
It was what I did, who I could see, call, talk to, where I went, …all that. By that time, we were living an hour or more away from my mom. In a trailer park, in some swamp, in Florida." she sat longer this time, in silence...

“That first time, I swear, I was in shock. It took me a full minute before I realized he had hit me. Backhanded me across the face. By the time I knew what happened, he had already been holding me, apologizing. I should’ve left that second. THAT SECOND!

“Maybe a week or so later, I found out, I was pregnant. I was so happy. It took a minute, after telling him, that I knew I was in trouble. His face fell. Went blank. Then, I felt pain. My head exploded. Next thing I knew, I was waking in pain, staring up from the floor. I was a bloody mess. I heard, rather than saw, someone in our place. It was old man Woodward. He was talking to me. Held a towel, and was trying to wake me. He reached down, and asked if I could sit. I did, but that hurt worse.

“My ribs were cracked. Didn’t know it, but they were. Breathing hurt. Sitting felt awful. But he didn't want me lying down. He made me sit at the table, and washed my face. THAT hurt was the nastiest pain I'd ever felt. I kept spitting blood. My lips were sliced. My eye was swollen.

“From what Woodward told me, he was walking by, and heard the punches and slaps from outside. He kicks open the door, and pummeled the shit out of my husband. Says he threw the guy out the door. Not pushed, literally threw him into the bushes, outside. They were a dozen feet from the door!" she snorted as she remembered it.

"Old Man Woodward was maybe 50, but fit. He was a vet. Somewhere “sandy, and hot” he'd said. He was a corpsman, a medic, when he was in the Navy. He was kind of our local trailer park’s doc." she looked at me, then, back into the distance, transported back to that time, again...

“Anyway, he sat up with me for two nights. Never let me sleep more than an hour or so. That first week sucked. So much pain. He called one of his lady friends, about the same age, and a Navy Nurse. That first week, two, they were what pulled me thru.

“It took a while, but eventually, they’d let me sleep all night. AND, one or the other were there. Always, for two weeks. He’d even go to his place overnight. But he’d be by at 6 am each morning to check on me. Or she would.

“Finally, I could go out on my own. Walk some, still hurt to breathe, but, they weren’t worried I would collapse. They said, ok, time to talk.

“They told me about these friends… All former Navy, who all worked in marinas, up and down the coast. And the gulf coast, too. They were the new Underground Railroad of sorts. They took care of women, like me, stuck in shitty marriages. They moved the women some place away, and kept an eye on them, 'til they were on their feet.

“The only payment they wanted, was when one of the women came, it was my turn to take care of them. Susan Antonia. That was the name, that told me, the woman was part of the network. If a woman named Susan Antonia came to me, then, it was my time to help. Whatever I could.

“So, I worked, for the last 8 years in marinas, all over the gulf coast, and up the Eastern coast, too. I’d made it to Maine, before I was on my feet enough to help others. I moved back to the Cape, because, so many women, there on the Cape were abused. I felt like I could do the most good there.

“When we met, 2 years ago, I had just turned 28. I didnt like your wife, but, you were one of the first people outside the network I was starting to trust. I still have some issues, today.”

“Jeez, you’re almost 30?” Out of all the things she told me, that??? She started laughing.

“I spent my childhood eating nothing but cereal and sandwiches. Never ate fruit until recently. To say I was undernourished and underdeveloped, is an understatement!”

“Yeah”
“So, what now?” She asked me. Good question.
“I don’t know.” Her expression fell, replaced with a guarded blank expression is the best way for me to describe it.
“I do know this: I am a mess. Maybe you are too, but me? I am a real mess right now. And I need help. You? You seem to be an amazing seamen. And to my untrained eye, NOT a mess. So, I’d like to ask, can you help me? I need a boating partner. I need help, need to get away, and need to find myself. I need a friend more than anything else. Interested?”
At this, she relaxed some. At that moment, her cat bounced up onto the table between us, and head butted my face.

“Deal. Partner. Boat Mate. Friend. “ We shook hands, and Blue, the cat, face planted into my face, again… adding his two cents… “My real name, is Marina. Ironic huh?”
“And I’m Greg. I’m a mess”

All Images and Video by Bluefin Studios unless specified.