“Kain, it was good to see you, mate,” Roy says in his thick Scottish accent. Sounds more like ‘Keen, itwa gootta see ya mate’ when he says it. He heads down the dock with a roll of rope slung over his shoulder. He’s built like one of the cargo containers we stack: tall, boxy, heavy bones. He’s ugly as sin with his jutting chin and too close eye, but his humor and personality make up for it. Sweat has darkened his gray sweatshirt at the collar and armpits. His hair, so red it nearly glows in the shadow of the storm, sticks out in all directions.
I give him a hearty handshake and clap him on the back. “You too buddy. It’s been a while.”
Roy and I have worked several jobs together over the years. He’s grown up on the docks, around boats. In the winters he works as a crab fisherman. It’s a dangerous job but he’s just the right amount of crazy to love it.
“My sis is in town. Come have a pint with us,” Roy says. “Here she comes.”
Behind us is a leggy blonde wearing far too much makeup and a too-short skirt for what the weather permits. She struts our way and gives me a come-hither smile when Roy points at her.
“This is Jess,” Roy says.
She looks me up and down and holds her hand out to me. I give it a good shake, and when I try to let go she holds on just a bit too long. Her flirting is not subtle. I give her points for being bold.
“Nah, man, I appreciate the offer, but I have to get back to my flat.”
“Come on,” Jess says with an over-exaggerated pouty bottom lip. The dark color of her lipstick is a stark contrast to the paler skin on the inside of her lip. “It won’t be any fun without ya.”
Roy laughs and rolls his eyes. “Well shite, maybe I should leave the two of you alone then.”
“No.” I’m quick to interject. Normally I have no problem with the long days working. They fly by because I’m working with nothing on my mind but making enough money to send back to Johnathan and fix up my home, but today is different. I haven’t been able to get Channa off my mind and all I want is for time to speed up so I can get back to her. “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans tonight.”
The girl shrugs. I think I’ve hurt her feelings. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she says.
And I don’t care. I do know what I’m missing with Channa and I don’t want to miss any more of it if I can help it.
I give Roy another handshake and tell him goodnight. I got permission to take one of the dock trucks for the duration of my stay, so I won’t have to wait on a taxi.
Driving on the opposite side of the road, on the opposite side of the truck, sitting in what would typically be the passenger seat, can be tricky the first few miles, but it doesn’t take me long to get used to it.
I head back to the flat as fast as I can while still making sure to drive safely. The storm has unleashed itself midway back, making the roads slippery and difficult to maneuver at a faster pace. Rain pelts the windshield faster than the wipers can keep up. I wish I could close my eyes and just be back. All I want is to see Channa again.
I’m so relieved when I get back to the flat. I park in the driveway, lifting my raincoat over my head to keep from getting saturated. The muddy ground sucks at my boots, everything trying to slow me down.
Once I’m inside, I realize no one is home. I sigh. All of that rushing for nothing. But then I decide maybe it’s a good thing that she’s not back just yet. I don’t imagine I smell too great after working my ass off, and I know I’m dirty as hell, covered in rust and grit and God knows what else from the giant cargo boxes.
I send her a quick text: I’ve waited all day to see that beautiful face. When will I see you again?
I change out of my filthy clothes and turn the water on in the shower. It takes a while for it to warm up, so I shave in the sink and wait.
A minute later my phone chimes. I see Channa’s name and my heart does a little flip in my chest.
Channa: We’ll be back soon. We went to a museum.
There’s a heart emoji at the end of her words and I force myself not to read too much into it.
Me: Send me a pic.
She sends one, but it’s a picture of one of the paintings she’s looking at. I smile.
Me: Of you, pretty girl.
Channa: Oh, lol. Sorry.
She sends me a selfie of her next to a marble statue. Europe has some of the most beautiful art in the world and yet I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Channa. She belongs in that museum, as a monument, as something the world should celebrate and charge ridiculous fees to marvel at and take pictures of.
Me: Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you.
Channa: I can’t wait to see you too. Soon. I promise.
Reluctantly, I get in the shower. I don’t want to keep bombarding her with texts. I know this is her dream vacation and she wants to see all the sites. I can’t be selfish and keep her with me even though I want to.
I’m glad I bought a waterproof phone last year. I’m able to take it into the shower with me. I stare at the image of Channa until my cock
