Seen a lot of broken hearts go sailing by
Phantom ships, lost at sea
And one of them is mine
I was a man of my word. After Rosie went down to get into bed, I put together an ice pack. My temples pounded. For the first time in a very long time, I had met someone who didn't try to heal me by making generic observations about the grieving process. The generic I could ignore; things like 'time heals all wounds' amounted to nothing more than bullshit for me.
Rosie's words were harder to forget. She was blunt and it hurt. It wasn't as if I didn't know that Lauren was never coming back. I knew that those types of miracles didn't happen. I knew that time would never make what happened any less harder to accept.
But taking a chance. That was the heart of the matter. No one had ever stood before me like Rosie had and basically tested my chicken-hood. Maybe they were scared to do that.
And maybe it was exactly what I needed.
With all of those thoughts pouring through my mind, I assembled an ice pack and climbed below deck. It was quiet. I didn't know how long I had taken getting the ice. I just knew I moved a lot slower than I used to do in my 'kaotic' years. My eyes struggled to adjust to the new lack of lighting; just a small beam from a nightlight illuminated the cabin.
My first thought when I saw Rosie curled up in bed, her freshly uncasted arm resting on her chest, was that she looked like Goldilocks. The bed was huge and her tiny frame barely made a dent in the cavernous space. She was already asleep; I noted the even rise and fall of her chest. Even in sleep, she had a tiny smile tucked at the corner of her lips. A strand of her hair curved around her neck, the golden hue contrasting oddly with the shadows.
It was observations like these that brought me back to an uneasy reality. I hadn't noticed a woman's features in years, and yet here I was standing there staring at this girl as if taking a permanent mental inventory.
Exhaling a breath I didn't realize I was holding, I crept towards the bed. Ever so slowly I gingerly placed the icepack on her swollen wrist. Her body jerked with the cold; her left eye opened a crack.
"Just brought you the ice pack," I whispered. My tongue felt swollen and clumsy.
"Thank you," she whispered back. "Mana'o nani." I wasn't sure I heard her right. I leaned in closer. "What?"
She tilted her head slightly upwards. I felt her lips graze my cheek.
"It means sweet dreams in Hawaiian," she said. Her head sank back into the pillows. I turned my face to look at her, but she had already shut her eyes.
"Sweet dreams," I repeated slowly. I stood there for a minute until I began to feel like too much of a voyeur. I had two choices: climb in next to her or go back on deck.
The decision came automatically.
"Do you know what time it is?"
I picked at the tough skin on the heel of my foot and snorted a nose full of salty air. "No, what time is it?"
"It's one a.m. Where are you? I've tried calling you a half dozen times and--"
"I took a trip."
"A trip to where?"
"Nowhere."
"Nick," Brian's voice was filled with that sort of fatherly patience. He didn't say anything else; not that he had to anyhow. He was more than another member of the band; he was one of my best friends. Besides, I had known Brian since, well...forever. At least it seemed that way. After flopping back up on deck like a wounded bird leaving Rosie to her attractive slumber, I had suddenly felt inspired to hear his voice. Now, the voice was finally continuing to speak. "You shouldn't be going on trips alone. It's not good--"
"I'm not exactly alone," I interrupted. I pulled a flaky piece of skin and held it up in front of my face. I made a face. Nick Carter, the guy who used to have girls falling to their knees in front of him, had really gross feet. I flicked the skin and absent-mindedly pulled back on my big toe.
"Who's with you?"
"Well, no one really. She's--"
"She?"
Brian suddenly sounded a lot more awake. And interested. And less concerned. It was funny how one word could change the direction of a conversation.
"I met her on this island and she kind of stowed away in my boat," I explained. It was a short story that didn't even begin to cover what really happened.
"And?" Bri pressed.
"And what?"
"Obviously you haven't shipped her back to where she came from! Is she pretty?"
My mental image of Goldilocks came back into my mind. I let go of my toe and stretched my legs out in front of me. I brought my left foot up onto my right and heel scratched vigorously, enjoying the feel of the gnarled skin that I had just picked.
"She's nice," I said, wincing right after I said it. Nice was a term used to describe a new shirt, a Girl Scout selling cookies, or a bunny rabbit. It wasn't a term used to describe Rosie.
Except it really was. She was all-around nice.
"Nice?" Brian repeated. "Or niiii-icccce?"
It couldn't be helped; I was just glad he wasn't around to see. I smiled. "How do you know the difference anymore?"
Bri laughed. "Because Leighanne is and will always be niiii-icccee."
"This girl's both," I said quietly.
"Nick," Bri's voice lost it's teasing quality. All I could hear was sincerity. "This is exactly what you need. It's been a long time and--"
"She just stowed away," I argued. "That's it. It's not like--"
I trailed off. My fingers tingled thinking about the way she had felt earlier. I clamped my hand to my throat, feeling the tension in my Adam's apple.
"I just don't know how to do it," I admitted.
"Do what?"
"B--be romantic," I whispered. "Love."
There it was. My unconscious had finally gotten to the purpose for calling Brian. Anyone else would have laughed at me if I had admitted I didn't remember the romance department. I was the King of romance.
Or I was.
But Brian didn't laugh. For the next hour he gave me advice as only Brian Littrell could give advice on women and relationships. When he finally ran out of encouragement, he let out a sigh that sounded more relieved than anything else.
"I've missed you," he admitted.
"I just saw you not that long ago," I reminded him.
There was a pause. "I think you know what I mean, Nick," Brian replied. "This is the first time in a very long time that you've sounded like yourself. Maybe this trip was a good idea."
My eyes were growing tired. As I stared out at the water, I thought I saw a couple ships in the far distance. I blinked rapidly and leaned forward; as I did so, the shadows sank back into waves.
"I hope so," I replied. "I really do. Hey, it's getting late here too. I just...thanks for talking to me."
"Any time. Call me when you get back."
After making that promise, I hung up and slid the phone in my pocket. I did a full body stretch, scooting down in my chair. Brian's advice rang in my ears. I just had to decide whether or not to actually use it.
I ended up making that decision in my sleep. With my limbs flung over the chair and my ass half-hanging off the end, I succumbed to dreams. Rosie's wish of mana'o nani worked. Her magic flung the ghosts out of the recesses of my relaxed state of mind. Instead of replaying firey crashes and intangible loved ones, I was thrown into a picturesque day at the beach...
And Goldie was right there with me the whole time.
