Chapter 22
“You look absolutelylovely,” Sylvester says to me when I meet him and Alice in the World War II themed bar.
I’m wearing a glittery, midnight-blue evening gown. The large pearl pendant I got from my oyster breakfast is nestled above my cleavage, and the Van Gogh starry night scarf is draped loosely over my shoulders.
Sylvester is wearing a tux with tails, very natty, with a top hat and bow tie, and Alice flows like a silvery beam of light in her sleek, sequined gown.
“You two are dazzling.” I lock arms with my buddies. “This is going to be a night to remember.”
“Yes, and the cruise line is going all out to make it special,” Alice says. “Syl, if I make it to midnight, I get to check this off my bucket list.”
“Ally, you don’t need a bucket list,” Sylvester says. “Everything you do is special and memorable, and you can’t possibly know ahead of time to make a list about it.”
“You always take things so literally.” Alice chuckles instead of her usual snicker. “Let’s make this night last forever.”
“You’re quiet,” Sylvester says, patting my arm. “Everything okay?”
“I’m ready for forever, a moment at a time,” I reply. “Yes, I’ll just enjoy the here and now. Being on board this cruise with you two, learning so much about myself, all the ups and downs. Tonight, it’s out with the old, and in with the new. I’m ready.”
“Good,” Alice says. “No more disappointments.”
“Have great expectations,” Sylvester chimes in.
“Yes,” I agree. “Let’s march into the future, not having a clue what comes next, and loving the not knowing.”
The sit-down meal is exquisite: lobster, steak, salmon, and more. A jazz band entertains us, and after dessert and coffee, the three of us take a turn at dancing a three-way waltz.
It’s tricky, but so much fun as we step and turn around, holding hands.
Everyone’s in a jovial mood, and I take turns dancing with Joy and Sheri, cutting in on their dates. The fortieth-reunion crowd has mostly paired off, finally. Joy is with a man who formed the bottom of the pyramid, while Sheri is swinging around with the guy with the megaphone and the disco hat.
We laugh.
We mingle.
We dance.
We drink.
A frisson of excitement tingles the small hairs on the back of my neck, and I have the strange feeling someone’s watching me.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking.
Or that I’ve had too much of the bubbly.
But I’m expecting the unexpected.
And there’s a name I won’t mention, because I don’t want to jinx my fate.
So, I enjoy the moment, and I watch the countdown clock.
“Ten-minute warning!” the disc jockey calls out. “Don’t forget to vote on the song of the new year. Grab a partner and pucker up.”
I finish taking a selfie with the Singaporean water polo team and whip my head around, looking for my dates.
A wry smile creases my cheeks when I spot Sylvester with the woman who was at the top of the Banning Pilots pyramid. They’re dancing the cha-cha-cha and look so cute together.
Even though everyone is friendly and they want my autograph, no one asks me to dance.
