He tried to tell someone about the affair so many times, more times than he could count. But at the same time, he never tried to tell anyone. There were moments, brief flashes, where he thought that he could maybe say something right now, that that could be the moment. But he knew what would happen if he did. He knew what June would do to Sig and what this all would do to his family, and he hated thinking about how his brother was tearing apart this family. But, selfishly, he didn't know what Becca would do to him if she found out that he brought this all down around them, and he was not sure he could handle it if he lost her. So, as much as he thought June should know, and as much as he might have wanted Sig to man up, he knew how easy it was to fall in love with that woman, and he knew how hard it was to let her go, so he might have faulted his brother for making bad choices, but he didn't do anything to interfere.
And he stayed true to his word. He promised her that he was not going anywhere, and he was a man of his word. When she wanted to talk, he listened, be it 1 PM or 1 AM. He found himself making a lot of trips to the shop to bring her lunch – he learned that she wasn't very good at remembering to eat when she was really excited about a piece or an upcoming appointment. For whatever reason, he agreed to borrow her Walking Dead DVDs even though he hadn't watched a new TV series in fuck-knows-how-long, and started texting her at random hours because Holy Shit Darryl. And so of course, he made her take all the John Wayne movies that got him through some of the worst times he could remember – if The Comancheros couldn't solve the problem, nothing could. So at the same time that he was sending her messages about zombies, he was getting messages about Wild West justice and bad hats. And it worked for them.
But, all too soon, the weather started turning colder, and the phone calls started coming in, and the contracts started piling up, and it was time to go back to sea. And she had her own business, a convention in Miami followed by three interviews for some magazines he had never heard of but were apparently worth streams of texts in all caps.
He had forgotten what it was like to have someone to say goodbye to, and it felt bittersweet. Because here was this amazing woman cuddled against him, sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching The Avengers (which he rather embarrassingly hadn't seen yet), and it felt amazing. But she wasn't his as much as he wished she was, and even more so, he didn't like knowing that she was so quiet and so clingy that night because he would be heading for Alaska in just two days. And he didn't like that he had lied to his brother about where he was that night, or that she had had to do the same thing. But these were their choices. It was what it was.
And then it was up to Dutch, and another winter of tying pots and throwing shots and taking the shit for leaking hydraulics. And he thought about her every day, and he came so close to asking Sig so many times. There were just too many times it could have come up, but then it just couldn't, could it? Not with the cameras and the storms and the other guys and the shitty numbers and the dozen other things that just made it a really bad idea to talk about something that he knew would cause a rift.
The closest they came was a few nights before the last offload. Edgar was taking over for wheel watch. It was late, the sea was calm, numbers had been good, nothing had broken for at least 36 hours, and the boat was finally just quiet.
So maybe it was the peace, or Sig's calm, or the ache in his back, or something bigger that he couldn't even put words to, but they were talking about being home for Christmas and seeing the family, and Sig mentioned that he thought Edgar might be glad to see Becca again. And it wasn't accusatory or suspicious or jealous, just a harmless comment because, yeah, it was obvious to everyone that they had been spending a lot of time together.
But Edgar was maybe a little tired of dancing around it all the time, and it was so far into a long season, and Sig was in the kind of good mood that he knew he could leverage, so he pushed it. That is what little brothers do, right? So instead of saying that he would just be glad to be home or to see everyone or something noncommittal, Edgar said, "Yeah, it'll be good to see her again. She's, uh, she's pretty amazing."
"Yeah, I know." Sig nodded. "And she likes you. Which might make her crazy, but it works in your favor."
"You trying to say something?"
"Me? No. Just seems worth noting. She doesn't like me that much."
"Well, maybe there's a reason for that."
Sig sighed and pushed out of the chair for Edgar to take over. "Yeah, I'd bet there probably is."
And that was it. That was as close as they came to saying they knew, and Edgar knew it didn't count for anything, but it felt like maybe he had a little bit of his brother's blessing. Not that it mattered unless Sig also backed off, which he couldn't imagine.
Then again, he also couldn't imagine the pounding on his door at 11:30 PM the first night back in Seattle. He couldn't imagine Becca rushing in as soon as he opened up, ranting about how angry Sig got about the new tattoo she got in Miami. And she was so happy it, the tiny little ocean wave on the inside of her Always wrist, but he thought she was trying to mark him on her and lost his mind. But she wasn't, she insisted, she just wasn't, she would never get a tattoo for him, she got it for her and how dare he and how could he and why did he treat her like such a child and…
And it was just too much. He was sore and tired and he knew who that wave was really for and it wasn't for Sig at all. She was mad as hell and he was too mentally and physically exhausted to handle it, and this wave just washed over him, and he captured her face with his calloused hands and silenced her anger with his lips.
At first, she was too stunned for anything, but it took only a second for her to understand, and then she was kissing him back. She clung to his forearms like she needed him to stay upright, holding tight as she pulled herself as close to him as she could be. And her breath felt hot against his skin, and she tasted like the chocolate bar he imagined she ate on the way over because she always had one in her purse just in case.
They didn't sleep together that night. But they kissed and they talked and he fell asleep with his head on her lap on the couch. And when he woke up in the morning, she was gone. But there was a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and a Post-It with instructions to text her for breakfast. They ended up at Denny's and talked like nothing happened, catching up on tattoo conventions and crabbing seasons as if they did not kiss for the first time 10 hours ago.
And he knew when he crawled back into bed to sleep off another crabbing season that that was not the last time he would kiss her, and it would only cause more problems. And he knew that he did not care what shit it would bring. He bring then that he loved the hell out of that woman, and he was so very done for.
NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNW
Months passed like that. They were home from opies for five days when Sig told her she reminded him of his daughter, and she ended up at Edgar's because she was a grown-ass woman successful in her career field that didn't appreciate being told she remind someone of their child. She came to the Norwegian Constitution Day Parade, and Edgar force fed her lutefisk and klub (and she only spit one of them back in his face). She convinced him to get a compass on his shoulder so he could "always find his way back home", and they both pretended that she didn't mean "his way back to her", and her apprentice gave it to him while she watched very carefully for any signs that this 19 year-old former delinquent might fuck it up.
And when he came back from salmon tendering, he thought about asking if she was still sleeping with Sig, because she had come over a few times but had not been mentioning him lately. But at the end of summer barbeque, a whole year after this whole mess got started, Edgar went to use the master bathroom because he had noticed exactly how long Norman had been in the main downstairs bathroom and was not about to put his life on the line like that. And he saw them talking, and he saw Sig brush a strand of her hair (fire engine red that day) behind her ear. And he didn't really need to know much beyond that.
So, three days later, when she asked if he wanted to come visit her mom, he said that he was busy. Which he wasn't. He was watching a Battlestar Galactica marathon, and while he actually did really like it (damn her and her sci fi), it wasn't exactly something he had to commit to. He's not sure why he lied, if he wanted to hurt her or just didn't want to see her or wanted her to come to him or what, but she just gave a cheery, "Okay, maybe next time!" and hung up and didn't seem to really care all that much. Which just made him feel even worse about the whole thing. So he didn't really want to watch Battlestar Galactice anymore, but he didn't want to go to St. Dymphna's, and he wanted to talk to her, but he couldn't, but he wanted to talk to someone, so he called the only person he could think of, which was probably not the best idea.
Because, was it really fair to drag Norman into all of this? Absolutely not. But it was too late; by the time Edgar realized he was going to explain to his brother how he was in love with the woman their other brother was cheating on his wife with, Norman was already on his way over. And Norm really hated changing plans, so if he cancelled at that point, he'd probably just get beaten up until he spilled the beans anyway.
So, he told Norman everything. He explained how he was completely crazy about Becca. To which Norm said, "I figured."
"But I can't just be with her, and it fucking sucks, and I don't know how much longer I can do this."
"Because of Sig."
"Because of…you know?"
Norm just stared at him.
"Of course you know. Did Sig tell you?"
Norman snorted.
"Did you walk in on them?"
He nodded. "Not anything juicy, don't worry. They didn't see me, either, so…" He pressed a finger to his lips, the universal sign to keep it quiet.
Edgar flopped back against the couch. "Man, I saw them at the barbeque. And, y'know, I know it's going on. I was acting like, um, like it wasn't really happening or had ended or whatever, but I knew it didn't. When you don't see it, it's so easy to pretend. But actually being there…fuck, I don't know, maybe I was just lying to myself this whole damn time. Maybe I don't really mean anything to her and this whole thing is one big stupid game that's gonna screw me over."
"I don't know about that." Norman leaned forward as if he was going to impart great wisdom, but Edgar knew his brother and knew to let the silence that followed just sit between them for a minute while Norman figured out the best way to say what he wanted. "I see the way she looks at you. We all do. I think if you asked anyone, they would say that it's obvious she's crazy about you. Not that it makes this whole fiasco any easier, because Sig is being a fucking idiot, let's not lie. And at least one of you is going to get hurt in all of this. But I think, and maybe I'm wrong, but I really think you're going to be all right."
"You're probably right. But am I going to be all right with Becca in my life, or with Sig?"
"Well. I'm rooting for you."