Time Taken
Part three
Previous Instalments:
- Starting Anew: Brett’s Journey After Prison (Part 1)
- Brett’s Journey: From Temporary Lodgings to Oceanfront Living (Part 2)
Brett seemed to have figured out how to be happy; a feat that had eluded him for so long. He missed his aunt Jess, though. She would have loved it here, especially the beach. The beach was spectacular, a pristine crescent of white sand kissed by the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. Nesting green turtles and loggerhead turtles lumbered ashore under the cloak of darkness, their ancient rituals unfolding under the watchful gaze of the moon. In the lush green hills that climbed away from the beach, troops of green monkeys, known locally as Sabaus, Old World monkeys with golden-green fur and pale hands and feet, swung through the trees. Their tails, tipped with golden yellow, flashed in the dappled sunlight – simply beautiful.
No, life couldn’t get any better than this! Not after everything. He took a long swig of his rum punch, the sweetness a comforting balm against the lingering sting of the past. He’d buried it deep, locked it away, and thrown away the key. Here, he was just Brett, the friendly, sun-kissed bartender with a knack for killer cocktails and a contagious laugh.
Camilo and Brett were at the bar, already halfway through their third beer, when a woman entered. She moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her presence radiating a palpable energy. She had blonde, shaggy, short hair that framed a face sharpened by intelligence and a hint of mischief. Her grey eyes, piercing and observant, scanned the room, settling on Brett for a brief, unnerving moment. She had a killer body, too, evident beneath the simple linen dress she wore.
“Do you remember the woman I told you about?”
“Yes”
“Well, that’s her. Her name is Kristie, and she has a villa at the top of the hill. Ya know the one that stands on its own.”
“The one surrounded by palm trees on the other side of the beach?”
“Yeah”
“Nice place”
“I’ve never seen her with a man.”
“I take it, you like her.”
“Yeah, but she refused me when I asked for a date.”
Brett laughs
“Don’t you like women? I have never seen you with one, chat one up or anything, hey if you’re gay, that’s fine, tell me, it just means more hot girls for me,” he laughs.
“No, I’m not gay, but I am off women.”
Camilo looked at Brett curiously.
“It’s a long story I don’t want to get into.”
Ok, my friend, no problem.”
Kristie approached the bar, . “Rum punch, please,” she said, her voice a low, smoky alto. “And make it strong.”
Camilo set to work, measuring the ingredients with practiced ease. This island was tiny. He would inevitably run into her. Best to remain polite and impersonal.
Thanks Camilo
“It’s been my pleasure.” Kristie then asks her where she has been for the past few weeks, as he hasn’t seen her around, and she tells him she has been to Miami.
“Who is the new guy?” She asks curiously
“That’s Brett. He’s been here a few weeks now.”
“Cute”
Camilo shouted over to Brett and introduced him to Kristie. They exchanged polite conversation, and then Brett went back to the other end of the bar. Kristie seemed to watch him most of the evening. He didn’t seem to be like the other guys. He didn’t use any chat-up line or come on to her in any way whatsoever. She was taken with him; she thought they could be friends.
The next day, Brett bumped into Kristie at the market; they stopped and chatted for a while. It was only when she took one of his tours that he became suspicious. She seemed to be everywhere; he finally asked her what she was up to and inquired if she was following him.
“No”
“Why is it you are there every time I turn around?”
“Aren’t you lucky? Look, would you like to go out for a drink one night?” I hear you’ve been here for a couple of weeks. He stiffened slightly. How did she know that? He’d been careful to keep his two lives separate.
“No, I don’t want to go for a drink” he said rather abruptly
“Don’t you like girls?”
“Yeah, I like girls, but I don’t trust them.”
“Wow, someone did a number on it, didn’t they? What is your story?”
“My story, I don’t have one; just leave me alone, ok.”
“What’s your fuckin problem? I was just being friendly.”
“Don’t bother. Pick someone else to be buddies with and turn and walk away. Kristie looked in disbelief, wondering what she had done.
Brett thought Kristie was a reporter. This wasn’t just some tourist looking for a thrill. She was looking for something else, something he desperately wanted to keep hidden. The past, it seemed, had a way of finding you, even in your little piece of heaven. And he had a feeling this woman was about to dredge it up.
Later that evening, Kristie made her way into the bar. Bret noticed her and sighed. He couldn’t help but think that this woman couldn’t handle rejection. What did she want now?
She made her way over to her usual spot at the end of the bar, not even a backward glance his way. Davao went over,
“Hi Kristie, your usual.”
“Hi Davao, you know me so well. Yes, rum punch, thank you.”
“What do you think of our new barman, Brett?”
“Not much”
“Everyone seems to like him.”
“Well, I was being me, my friendly self, and he shot me down in flames.”
“Usually, he is dynamic with the customers.
Brett wanted to avoid that end of the bar. He tried hard not to make eye contact with Kristie, but she wasn’t one to shy away from anything and apologized to him. Camilo looked puzzled
“It’s fine. I overreacted. Let’s forget it, yeah.”
“Ok, let me get you a drink, no hard feelings”
“You don’t have to do that”
“I want to”
“Ok”
Over the weeks, they became friendly. Brett was still weary but wasn’t as hostile, and she didn’t ask any questions. He had a past, but don’t we all? His was painful, and she didn’t want to be reminded of it. She took it one day at a time. She liked him, and she tried to get to know him.
2018
Brett tapped his fingers nervously on the linen tablecloth of the Sea Crest restaurant. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore was usually a soothing sound, but tonight, it amplified his anxiety. He took a long sip of the wine the waiter had just poured, the crisp, chilled liquid doing little to quench the sudden dryness in his throat.
Kristie looked stunning. She wore a simple, elegant dress, the color mirroring the turquoise of the ocean just beyond the open-air dining area. He had seen her in casual clothes, beachwear, even covered in sand, but never like this. He couldn’t deny the pang of attraction he felt. It was a feeling he’d been consciously suppressing, trying to keep things light and uncomplicated.
“You okay, Brett?” Kristie asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “You seem a million miles away.”
He forced a smile. “Just admiring the view. And you, of course.” He immediately regretted the words, sounding more like a tourist on vacation than a man who’d called Barbados home for a year.
She laughed, a warm, melodic sound that he genuinely enjoyed. “Well, the view is nice, but I brought you here for more than just the sunset.” She paused, took a deep breath, and met his gaze. “I meant what I said earlier. “I want to share something with you. Something about me.”
“No
“Why? We have been seeing each other for nearly a year. I want to tell you about my past.”
Brett swallowed hard. The nervous feeling in his stomach intensified. He knew this was coming. He had sensed Kristie’s growing feelings, the subtle shifts in her body language, the lingering touches. He just hadn’t wanted to deal with it. He preferred the comfortable, uncomplicated rhythm of their friendship.
He set down his glass, the clink echoing in the suddenly quiet space between them. “Kristie, look…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, the gentle way to deflect, to postpone, to avoid. “I appreciate you wanting to open up to me. I do. But…”
“But what, Brett?” She leaned forward, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “What’s holding you back?”
He ran a hand through his hair, the sea breeze ruffling the strands. The truth, a dark and tangled knot, threatened to unravel. He had spent a year meticulously reconstructing himself, building a new life on the sandy shores of Barbados, burying the past deep beneath the turquoise waters. Letting his guard down and letting someone in risked everything.
He met her gaze, his own eyes clouded with a mixture of fear and longing. “It’s not you, Kristie. It’s me. There are things…things I’m not ready to talk about.”
Kristie’s expression softened. “Everyone has a past, Brett. Things they’re not proud of, things they’ve overcome. Sharing them doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
The waiter arrived with their appetisers, momentarily interrupting the tense atmosphere. Brett used the distraction to compose himself. He picked up a conch fritter, the familiar taste doing little to soothe his anxiety.
“Maybe someday,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze. “But not tonight.”
Kristie sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She picked at her salad, the vibrant greens suddenly looking dull. The comfortable silence that had once characterised their evenings together was now thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
Kristie sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She picked at her salad, the vibrant greens suddenly looking dull. The comfortable silence that had once characterised their evenings together was now thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
The sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in a fiery array of oranges and pinks. He knew he had hurt Kristie. But the fear of revealing the truth, of exposing the darkness he carried within, was too intense to overcome.
He looked at Kristie, her face etched with a mixture of disappointment and understanding. He knew he couldn’t keep pushing her away forever. Eventually, she would move on and find someone willing to open up and share their life completely. And he would be left alone, with his secrets and his regrets, watching the sun rise and set on another beautiful, empty day in paradise.
“What can be so bad, Brett?” she asked gently, her voice laced with concern. They’d been friends for months, sharing quiet evenings and easy conversation, but a wall had always remained between them. Tonight, she hoped to finally break it down by sharing her secrets.
“Ok, but I need to tell you, my past.” She took a deep breath and began, her voice soft and low. “I was married once. To a man I wasn’t in love with, but cared for him deeply. He… he took me off the streets.”
Brett’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. Kristie continued, “I was in a bad way back then. Doing things I didn’t want to do but had to do to survive. Ross was… my saviour. He had been paying me to be with him, to keep me from selling myself for sex. I was lucky I hadn’t fallen into the hands of a pimp.”
A wave of shame washed over her as she spoke the words aloud, words she’d kept locked away for years. Brett remained silent; his expression unreadable.
“As time went on,” she continued, her voice gaining strength, “Ross asked me to be his wife. Even though he knew I didn’t love him. But he loved me enough for both of us. He wasn’t a millionaire, but he wasn’t poor either. He was a kind man, Brett, a gentle soul. He saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself.”
She paused, taking a sip of her wine. “And when he died…” she trailed off, her voice thick with emotion. “He left me more than enough to start a new life, wherever I wanted to be.”
She looked up at Brett, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “That’s why I live here. Nobody knows… they only know that I’m a widow. And that’s all they need to know.” She finished, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The story had been told.
“But you are telling me”
“I trust you”
“I’m so sorry about your husband”
“Ross Hunter was the nicest man anyone could ever meet”
“If you didn’t love him, how did that work with the intimacy? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that”
“We had sex; I just wasn’t in love with him, but I did love him. I owed him my life; he made my life so much better. We were a normal married couple”
“Were you happy?”
“Yes, we were married for 10 years, he was good to me, I miss him”
“Thanks for sharing that part of your life with me”
“Well, I hope it hasn’t changed things”
“No, not at all
“I hope in time you can tell me about your past”
Thank You for Reading
Deborah C Langley
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