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The sun stood low, colouring the horizon in bright red and reflecting in the white paints of the yachts. Light wind came blowing from the open sea, accompanied by the characteristic salty air. For others, it was an ordinary evening like any other, yet Tubbs hadn’t been able to resist a certain thought gnawing at his mind for the last few hours and he hadn’t even blinked; he parked his Cad’ at the marina. Sunglasses off, stowed away in his pocket. His eyes scanned the small harbour. To him, being a lifelong New Yorker, all those “boats” looked the same. But the picture of the St. Vitus Dance was forever burned into his brain. In a slow manner he crossed the wooden pier, passing ladies in bikinis and broad-shouldered men with expensive sunglasses, feeling somewhat out of place. Well, the women seemed kind of appealing, but... Howsoever. Far back, the St. Vitus Dance appeared from between the expensive boats, firmly moored to the dock. Small waves rocked the boat in a steady rhythm. No sign of Sonny. It seemed empty, save for his small pet resting on a pink blanket, picking up remnants of fish.
“Elvis, my man,” Tubbs chuckled, and patted the crocodile's - beg pardon – the alligator’s back. “Say, is your master home?”
There was no expression on that green face.
The main reason for dragging himself to the St. Vitus was that Tubbs couldn’t stop thinking back to the day before yesterday. He had been with Sonny, also here, at the marina, and the telephone rang. It had been the medical examiner with news. Caitlin had been pregnant for seven weeks. Due to this single call Sonny had violently shoved every object from the table in front of him to the floor and hurried, without saying a word, to the master’s cabin. Then he had cried.
So, Tubbs figured Sonny might need some company.
“Sonny?”
A seagull cast its shadow on the boat.
Hesitant at first, he climbed down the narrow stairs that led below and searched the room for his partner. Darkness was the first fact one would note. It felt like entering a ghost ship with all the loneliness and liveliness together. A subtle movement amidst the blackness caught Rico’s attention.
Slumped into a corner of the couch, hidden in the shadows, was Sonny. Only a faint sunbeam made part of his longish, wavy hair shine gold. In front of him, on the table, sat a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He no longer bothered to drink from a glass.
“Hey, Sonny,” Rico greeted.
Sonny lifted his head a few inches and dropped it again as he saw who the visitor was.
Still careful, Tubbs approached him. “How’s it going?”
A sigh sounded, and it took a few seconds for Crockett to form true words, “Can’t complain.” An obvious lie. Sonny stared at a photograph in his hand where Caitlin stood in the centre. “Probably returning in a few days. Gotta polish that wood above a bit more.” His voice was barely above a whisper, low, rough, and emotionless. Sluggishly, he set the bottle to his lips and took one, two sips. He shifted heavily and now his face was fully illuminated by the setting sun. Their gazes finally met. Sonny looked tired, his eyes had lost their usual sparkle many days ago. Instead, there was an empty and cold stare, which reflected the hollow pain he needed to bear from morning to evening and through the night.
“Is there anything you need?” Tubbs asked softly.
Uninterested, that tired gaze swept back to the photograph to study it further. “No. I’ll be fine.”
His short-tempered answers did nothing to satisfy Tubbs. So, he exhaled loudly and let his eyes wander around the space. The boat looked messier than usual. Everywhere lay empty cans and bottles of beer – Sonny seemed to linger only around the couch, rarely in bed, and everything else went on unnoticed by his care. All the time, his thoughts circled the end of Caitlin’s live performance. How she had stumbled into his arms, already dead, and how he had desperately attempted to save her.
“Are you sure? You know, I’m here for you. If you... want to talk or need anything, just come to me. Honestly, I’d appreciate if you-”
Sonny cut him off and glared at him, irritated, “Rico, I’m fine. I don’t need to talk to anyone about anything.”
“Alright.” Tubbs crossed the tiny distance to a small fridge and picked up a beer.
“You plannin’ to stay overnight or what?” Sonny snapped.
“Maybe. After all, I don’t know from when on it’s too dangerous to leave you alone. Don’t want you to do something rash that you’ll regret later. Or I’ll regret.”
One shake of the head. “Do what you want. As long as you don’t plague me with that ‘Bare your whole soul to me and you’ll definitely feel better’ you can move in for my sake.”
The tragedy had happened five weeks ago. Since then, Sonny hadn’t changed one bit; he let no one come near, talked to no one and his probably only nutrition was alcohol. Nobody knew if he slept, let alone leave the boat.
Rico decided, “I’ll sit down above.”
“Who cares.”
As the last light of the day sunk beneath the ocean just as the sun had done, Rico read 9pm on his wristwatch. Nearly an hour had gone by while he was enjoying his beer. Only he wasn’t quite “enjoying”. It was suspiciously quiet down there, he thought, so he figured he better checked on Sonny. Someday he will have to talk.
Sonny sat exactly at the same spot as before, just his head was tipped back against the wall behind him, eyes closed. Seemed like he was asleep. Quietly, Rico approached him to confirm that.
“...Rico?” Sonny had felt his closeness and woke from a light and restless slumber, groggily blinking at his partner.
“Everything okay?”
As before, Sonny gave him an upset look and tried not to make his bad mood show. “Can’t I just sleep for a while without you asking me every time if I’m alright?” He was obviously irritated by Tubbs’ presence.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. But you woke before I could touch you.” This time his patience went through, voice hardening just a little, “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”
Suddenly, Sonny shot up from his seat and raised his voice, “Damn it, stop asking me this! You won’t get an answer! God, I hate how everyone asks the same question: ‘Oh Sonny, are you all right? You look so tired.’ Three days ago, Trudy showed up with the same words, Gina called yesterday and you’re here again! Why don’t y’all just shut up and leave me the fuck alone!”
The words hung heavily in the air. Sonny scowled at him and breathed hardly from sudden effort.
Tubbs was... impressed. His partner never raised his voice this loud in his presence.
Yet Sonny regretted it instantly. He dragged a tired hand across his face and stammered, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- to yell at you like that,” he crumpled back onto the couch, “Please, forgive me.”
“Hey, man, it’s okay. I pushed you too hard. The fault’s on me.” He sat next to Sonny, careful not to crowd him. In that dim light he could have sworn he saw a tear on his cheek. Sonny let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes, head leaning slowly back. For the first time the silence felt bearable.
Minutes stretched. Outside it was almost pitch black, and they remained there in silence. From time to time, Sonny nervously brushed his fingers past his lips, touched his neck and eyed his partner. It didn’t escape Rico’s attention; he could tell something was pressing down on him, nearly crushing him.
Sonny’s breath hitched once, then stilled. His head turned to Tubbs, eyes anxiously searching his face as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to start. And looked away. “Seven weeks,” he whispered. “She tried to tell me while she was on tour. She called me so damn often. But I never really listened. If I had given her just ten more seconds on the phone, I would’ve known. Every time something happened to get me off the cord.” A shaky exhale.
“Nobody could have known,” Tubbs responded, though he wasn’t quite sure himself.
“I really loved her. I still do. Why do I always mess up relationships?”
“It’s the job, and you know it. That’s what you tell me all the time when a romance goes wrong.”
Sonny felt emotions of frustration and hate surface. Hate at himself. “I shouldn’t have freed Hackmann from death row. If I hadn’t been such a stupid fool and had just trusted my gut feeling from the beginning, he would be dead. She would still be here.” His eyes glassed over, voice breaking slightly at the edges. “I should’ve-”
“Stop it, Sonny. This will do no good if you continue listing every ‘What-if-scenario’. You’ll just hurt yourself even more. You can’t change it. You need to accept it.” Rico placed a firm hand on Sonny’s shoulder, “Look at me, Sonny.”
He obeyed, eyes rimmed red from sleep deprivation and days of relentless crying.
“I know it’s hard. It’s hard to accept the fact that Caitlin’s dead. Damn it, I- I still can’t believe it either. But you got to stop yourself from thinking that it’s your fault. I don’t want to lose you to those vicious thoughts. They’ll eat you alive. You hear that? And then you will fall even deeper, and it will be even harder to get you out of that hole.”
Sonny’s lips parted, but no words came. Just a single tear slipped from his eye. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. He was too weak. “I don’t know how to keep my thoughts from spilling over, Rico. It’s too much.”
“Then talk to me. That’s why I came here. I know when you need someone to talk. And I know you fear it, but there’s no reason to be scared, because I want you to talk to me. Stop keeping everything bottled up, damn it, just speak to me.”
His words tethered Sonny to the real world as more tears formed and left wet tracks on his cheeks. “God, I’m an idiot,” he croaked. His vision swam, his eyes stung, and a painful sob escaped his throat. A once so tight knot inside his chest started to loosen up while he did nothing to stop the oncoming breakdown. The tall wall built by sorrow and guilt started to crack, concealed emotions finding their way out through the narrow gaps. Trembling hands reached up and partly covered his face.
Tubbs stayed seated where he was, not moving closer to prevent Sonny from hiding or feeling pressured. He knew, Sonny never needed comforting words while in tears. A presence of someone trusted was enough. Someone who witnessed it and saw how he felt. Someone to no longer make him feel alone.
Gradually, the crying eased, and the only sound breaking the steady silence were Sonny’s occasional sniffles and hiccupping breaths. A lamp Rico had switched on earlier spilled warm light across his tear-streaked face. The way it highlighted the curve of his jaw made Sonny look undeniable strong, even though his heavy eyelids betrayed him right now. He yawned once, rubbed his eyes like a five-year-old and brushed one finger along the shadow beneath them.
“When was the last time you slept more than six hours?” Tubbs asked when he saw his partner struggling to stay awake.
“Don’t know.”
“Go to bed, Sonny.”
He shook his head drowsily. “No, I...” The words trailed off, his eyes darted around the room as if he could find a credible contradiction floating around, then looked back at Rico. “Alright.”
That made his partner smile a little, he patted Sonny’s shoulder and stood.
Pull yourself together, Sonny thought, and dragged himself into a standing position, swaying lightly as the fast change of posture sent a wave of dizziness across him; his vision went nauseating black for a few seconds. Somehow, the room also tilted. But he wasn’t on high seas.
He staggered more than walked to bed, fell onto it and realised how spent he actually was. His back hurt, and his head anyway, however, he got used to that persistent headache. It had become part of his life just like the hollowness Caitlin had left. Both drained his energy in such disgusting way. Sometimes, he did not notice the headache – it happened as unconsciously as people breathe.
God, I can’t keep myself upright any longer.
“-heard me, Son? Sonny?”
How long did he stand there? What time is it? Where...
“Huh?” A long silence followed. “...sorry. Didn’t catch you. Sorry,” he mumbled.
Rico came nearer. “I said I can stay the night if you want.”
It took a while for Sonny to respond. He wasn’t fully there. His mind had already shut off halfway. “No. Don’t waste your time.”
“I’m not wasting it, I’m-” He sighed. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. “Look, Sonny. I am just offering you my support and help. Call it mothering, or as whatever you see it. I know you crave comfort. You’re just too proud to ask for it, so I’m giving it to you.”
Sonny completely ignored that sentence. “I don’t want someone hovering around me full-time. I’m a grown man and I can take care of myself, whether you like it or not. Live with it.”
“That’s the thing, Sonny. You’re not capable of caring for yourself. Not anymore. Besides, I’m not planning on hovering. I am just doing what friends normally do.”
“Whatever.” Again, he felt anger rise in his chest like before, followed by the desire to destroy something. That guy there is irritating him.
“Alright, if that’s what you want. Good night.” Tubbs didn’t receive an answer. He didn’t wait for one – he had secretly already decided to stay.
As he sat back on the couch again, listening to the soft rustle of blankets in the next cabin, he found that he couldn’t be mad at Sonny’s constant changing mood. The pain was responsible for it. Rico wonders what kind of pain tortured Sonny that bad, that horribly. He peered into the master’s cabin, examining the silhouette of his already sleeping friend. The sleep he was in looked restless.
Well, it was restless.
His jaw seemed to be tight even in sleep. Short, shallow breaths entered and exited his nose, his chest rose and fell unevenly, perfectly in sync with his breathing. Muscles tense as if they could tear apart any moment, knees drawn up to his thoracic cage and legs bent to appear as small as possible. Every now and then, a shiver crawled through his body, and he curled just a little tighter. His lips then parted with a strangled sound; brow furrowing, hands bending into taut fists. Rico expected him to wake up, yet nothing happened. Instead, he relaxed again, though his shoulders stayed hunched together.
He felt sorry for him, deeply sorry. No wonder Sonny was always that exhausted when sleep looked like this. And the worst part: Rico didn’t know how to help him. Rico wished he could make him feel better, but that’s what he had tried for the past years, and now Sonny was in the worst state he had ever been. And as Rico thought about that, he bitterly realised that Sonny had never been happy happy. How many times had he faked his smile to hide his pain. How many times had he pretended to be fine until he broke in silence. More than anyone could count.
Sometimes it seemed like God wouldn’t want Sonny to live a happy life. No matter how hard he tried.