Page 1 of Merry with a Captain

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Fletch propped his foot on the stool beside him and raised his finger to the bartender. His leg still ached like a son-of-a-bitch. He been told to expect it, but he’d not really believed the docs and had played it down. He wanted to be back on boardIntrepid,and it irked him he couldn’t, but at least he knew the yacht was in good care under Micki.

The bartender came over, wiped the counter in front of him and put down a coaster.

"What can I get ya?” he asked. He looked like an old sea dog and much like how Fletch felt.

“Just whatever's on tap, local brew. And could I have a menu, please?" He was hungry, and this was his first time at this salty dog bar.

He’d arrived in Love Beach just a few days before and had planned to surprise Beck, but discovered he was out of town. So Fletch was on his own. He'd also found out Micki had gone with Beck, and a skeleton crew was aboardIntrepid,which only made him more antsy he wasn’t.

The last months since he’d broken his leg, he’d been rather isolated and looked forward to local company, but, maybe itwasn’t so bad being on his own since he had to go through physiotherapy. At least he was by the ocean.

He’d had to learn to wind down and chill. He’d always been go-go-go ever since he was a kid, never able to sit still. He kept himself busy most of the time, but that came to a screeching halt last June thanks to breaking his damn leg. Skateboarding of all things. These last months since his surgery had been agonizingly difficult and painful.

Of course, Beck and the crew had given him the gears saying he was too old and brittle for that kind of nonsense. Thirty-eight was not old! When Beck had called him an Old Sea Dog, he’d countered with ‘Just a Sea Dog’.

He’d gotten used to flying solo since the splat at the skate park. Everyone was busy over the summer, and he was barely able to walk, left on crutches and with quite the contraption on his leg. His doctors had released him with the condition he continue to check-in and getting physiotherapy. He could do that here in Love Beach, so he could be close to the yacht. He had his first physio appointment scheduled for next week.

It was almost the end of November, and already the Beach was festive. Lights, trees, and decorations everywhere. He’d never really been a huge Christmas fan, not a Scrooge or anything, but it had been tough when he was a kid. Little money, Dad always out working, same with Mom, and he’d been left alone to fend for himself. Anyway, he shoved those childhood thoughts away. It hadn’t been the best of times, nor was there any lingering happy memories, just misery.

But for the time being, he was going to enjoy this beach bar, have a few brews and a bite to eat. Music was good, location was fantastic, atop the cliffs close to Passion Cove. He needed to be near the sea as salty water ran through his veins. He’d found a room at a motel close by while he had physio and until he could get back onIntrepid.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t the same after the break. His balance was off, and he tried to ignore the ache, but it was playing havoc with his sea legs. He didn’t want any Peg Leg nick names, which the crew would likely give him if he didn’t heal up like new.

He still had a very slight limp, and he hoped it would go away with time and he did his best to hide it, even if it caused him tremendous amount of pain later. Mostly he could grin and bear it. But today, it was being a bastard, and he grimaced just as the bartender placed a frosty beer mug on the coaster and slid a menu to him.

“You good friend?” he asked.

“Yeah, just this damn leg. I broke it last June, and it still plays up.”

“Ah yeah, the older you get, the harder you heal. Step lightly, my man,” he said with a smile.

Fletch stopped himself from shaking his head and saying a smart remark that he wasn’t old. The dude was much older than him and just offering wisdom.

“Any recs?” Fletch asked while looking at the menu.

"We may look like a dive, but the food is good. Anything off menu will do you proud," the bartender said.

Fletch nodded.

“You new in town?" the bartender asked.

“Kinda. I was here last spring until June. But I'm back now. The name is Fletch.” He stuck out his hand.

The bartender took it, and they shook. “Hank. Just holler when you're ready to order.”

Fletch scanned the menu, and Hank left to attend some folks at the other end of the bar. Everything on the menu was typical fare, but the fish and chips caught his eye. Hopefully the fish was fresh, especially with the sea a stone’s throw away.

He put down the menu and looked at the reflection of the room in the mirror on the wall behind all the liquor bottles. It was festive. Christmas lights twinkled a mixture of those old incandescent bulbs that he remembered as a kid and LED lights. Quite a mashup. A sad, crooked, fake tree was in the corner, also decorated with lights.

The booths were full, and some tables were on the deck overlooking the ocean. He waited until Hank came back, ordered his food, and told the older man he was going outside. He carried his beer, walked through the open garage-like door and found a table next to the railing which was pretty close to the cliffs, and he looked over. It was a long way down. The sun was setting and cast a Creamsicle glow across the sky.

He drew in a big breath and held it. Nothing like fresh sea air.

Yep, he was glad to be back by the water. He craned his neck, leaning over the railing to see if the marina was visible from here. Maybe he'd be able to seeIntrepid. No luck.

Gazing out over the darkening waves, he searched for ship lights out on the horizon. There were some, heading to who knows where. He was getting a bit chilled and thought he might go back inside, but the waitress brought his food.

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