Problems in the water

He gradually moved to the passenger side door and pulled himself out, bearing the weight of two cruthes. He walked into the sliding doors looking up and half smiling, as if his efforts were being acknowledged. Then he sat down facing me awkwardly and introduced himself as Nathan - Nathan Eats. He was a pleasant, blonde, white guy in his early thirties and dressed in a calm medium blue shirt that matched his blue eyes.

He explained his compensation claim: a waterskiing accident. The waterskis had caught fire, which resulted in second degree burns to his feet. He just needed some help for the time he was unable to work.

Surprised, I asked him if that had happened before.

"Only once," he said.

"You know, water can catch on fire. Not many people realize that." I inquired whether this was a work or recreational injury. He threw his hands up.

"A little of both," he said. "I was scouting a new fishing area, and having a little recreation time off of that. I wasn't counting on the fireworks."

He had all the right paperwork, so I went ahead and filed it, and told him to expect it to be processed within the next two to three business days. He looked satisfied, if not quite jubilant.

Something a little out of character for me: I don’t know, it was a nice day, around my lunch hour, and quite frankly he looked and acted half-decent-and a little interesting, I guess. As such, I asked him to join me for lunch at the cafe next door. I would pay. He accepted and we went over there, slowly.

We decided to eat 'a la carte' and al fresco. As we sat in the courtyard, I ordered some kind of house white and Nathan ordered a rum and coke. Then looking at the menu, I casually suggested he would probably like the calamari.

His face darkened. "No." He said.

"No, I don't eat squid."

He then ordered the eggs benedict, and I had a reasonably reasonable chicken salad. I hadn't ordered that one before; it had croutons.

Now, being very, very, naturally curious, I couldn't not say what I was thinking: to wit, if his business name was in some way ironic.

He chewed for a bit before answering.

"Nope. It just means what I do for a job really. My name is Nathan Eats. I catch, kill, and sell squid. But I never eat 'em."

I didn't take it any further, and we carried on our enjoyable lunch break. Upon parting, I handed him my card and advised him to call or message me if he had any problems. You know, or even if he didn't, I told myself.

And he didn't. But he did. To invite me to dinner. At a beer and steak place on the edge of town. I told him I would meet him without accepting his offer of a ride, and the next evening, reasonably clean and casual, I drove out to meet him. He was waiting out front, smoking, and when he saw me, he stubbed out his cigarette with his heel on the gravel. He was wearing the denim tuxedo, with cowboy boots even, and gave me a big smile.

He beckoned me inside, and in we went, and saw there was a booth he had reserved for us. He seemed well liked here: people were greeting him warmly. It wasn't long before I had brandy in front of me, and before he had beer, and we had our orders. He had a sirloin steak; I had a burger with fries, the fries were good; boiled before deep fried, so crispy outside, soft inside; the burger was good with beetroot and lightly toasted sesame breadcrumb bun. At least we were a long way from seafood.

After he polished off his steak and wedges, and gave a nod to the salad, he leant back on his side of the booth. It wasn't long before he leaned forward again. The music had switched between loud country rock, and softer ballads - it was in one of these quieter moments he answered the question I was thinking, but hadn't asked yet.

"My mum was eaten by a giant squid."

I breathed out, and breathed in again, as I knew this could turn out to be a story worth telling. I didn’t even need to ask again, because he was continuing anyway.

"We were out laying cray pots, and it just came up and pulled her out of the boat. It took three guys to pull her out of its grip. By the time they got her up, she was drowned. The squid swam off."

He pushed his empty plate aside and finished his beer.

"I've been hunting it ever since."

Fresh drinks were served, and now that he felt familiar with the local scene, Nathan relaxed a little more, as did those folks around us. A brawny guy walked by and slapped Nathan on the shoulder.

"Hey, Nate. How does it feel to be fucking squids?"

"Nate" laughed, "Try it and see."

One more drink down, and we decided we should head back to mine. In our own cars, and Nathan having had a few, I decided to lead the way and set the pace. This is how we got there without incident.

Once home, we didn't waste any time. Naked on the bed, arched, low light, he whispered hot in my ear -

"Yeah. This is how it feels."

Which I found mildly disturbing, but let it go.

Later, as we lay on my bed, and later in still other nights that followed, he managed to confide in me. Donny: I didn't have much to confide, other than a very vanilla, Anglican upbringing. Nathan talked about an abusive father who died, evil siblings and a stolen inheritance, he talked about the loss of his mother to a deep-sea monster. Pretty epic really.

Some people seem to have an innate ability to turn their lives into stories - I guess I just don't have that. Every confession he made pulled me closer to him, but in an odd way. I couldn't be certain if they were true. I loved his enthusiasm, I wanted to believe the lies.

His phone made strange noises every so often, he used it a lot to explain that notifications came in any time the giant squid might have been seen! Anytime day or night - mostly they were red herrings in a big way.

So we were pretty relaxed mostly. I got on with the job and Nathan's feet healed up. He could hobble around good enough to even cook the odd meal: a simple meal, like chicken breast and corn fritters and a rhubarb sauce, a first for me, and it was good.

The nights were long and languid. Nathan talked of going back on the boat, but I did not want to think about that. I wanted to think about dinner - and gods help me, I was even starting to think of me and Nathan as now a couple.

But he was obsessed; he spoke of the giant squid as if it were an established fact. And that it somehow represented his mother, which was a little beyond me. He vowed to take revenge; I suggested vengeance, which he thought was equally good. Forgiveness was of course out of the question.

And then one morning after a doubly hot night I he heard that unusual sound. Soon after that I found myself alone in bed, listening to the sound of the shower at four AM.

Nathan came to us from the bathroom naked. He put on his worst clothes and began filling the pack he kept while he was staying with me. I asked him, and he explained as the dawn broke behind him:

"Got a reliable sighting: it's off the coast of Peru. I've contacted the crew and they're standing by. We're off there today."

Not even time for breakfast: the dawn broke away behind him as he drove off. I followed him to the van wondering what was the purpose of this Melvillian mission.