“Do you see that eyelet at the top? Can you attach it to the hook? I asked Adrian to do it but he said he couldn’t find it. Honestly, I doubt he knows what I’m even talking about,” she explains, bouncing from one foot to the other with a frantic energy. “I wouldn’t care so much but this zipper is notoriously slippery. And the last thing I want is to be topless in the middle of dinner.”
“I got you,” I say, hooking the little piece of metal over its delicate strap.
“Ahh! Thank you,” she breathes, turning around to smooth out the fabric. With a low neckline and a cinched waist, the outfit flatters her tall frame. “Do you think it’s too much?”
The self-conscious assessment makes me remember the Vanessa I knew in college, the one who only wore oversized t-shirts and biker shorts every day. I’m happy that she’s let herself shine more as she’s gotten older.
“It’s chic and classy. I love it.”
“And what about the shoes?” she says, showing off white Adidas. “I really wish Meredith would have sent clothing restrictions ahead of time. She’s lucky I never travel with less than four pairs.”
“There are clothing restrictions?”
“Did you not see the updated itinerary in your welcome bag?”
“I haven’t looked,” I reply honestly. Besides dealing with my uncomfortable roommate situation, I haven’t had time to pay attention to anything else.
“Here,” she says, handing me a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
4 p.m.: Board transport for the River Cruise, with a docked dinner to follow. All Guests Must Wear closed-toe shoes, in accordance with the captain’s rules.
I knock together my chunky Doc Martens. “Good thing I packed my boots.”
Vanessa stares at me with a look of concern and contemplation. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”
I’m in the same clothes I wore on the plane: black jeans and a plain black shirt. My hair is in a sloppy bun on top of my head, and I’m makeup-less. Definitely not dinner-ready. But considering everything in my suitcase is a variation of this same outfit, my appearance isn’t going to change much.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s a hundred degrees outside. And you’re wearing all black.”
“It’s standard photographer attire.”
Although Phoebe tried to convince me to wear fancy dresses or pressed slacks to weddings, they were completely impractical for my style of photography. Between crawling on the ground, kneeling inthe grass, and scooting around on dusty floors, I was spending an astronomical amount on dry cleaning. Switching to a more casual look allowed me to fit in with the other staff members and it was a hell of a lot cheaper.
“But are you working tonight?”
“Not technically, no.”
“Then let’s find you something else to wear,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the veranda to her room. Adrian is sitting on one of the two twin-size mattresses watching an eighties movie on the TV.
“This is cozy,” I say, considering what it would take to let me commandeer one of her mattresses.
“That’s one word for it,” Vanessa quips, scooping up a pile of clothes from the open suitcases on the floor and dumping them on the bed. “I’ve stayed in hostels bigger than this.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have to share with Angie and Jocelyn,” Adrian says. I try to hide my disappointment. “And those two snore.”
Well, there goes that idea.
“I got saddled with a bunk bed, if you want to trade.” I try to make the option sound appealing, but as I hear it escape my lips, it comes out more like a timeshare opportunity.
“Vanessa doesn’t do heights. Isn’t that right?”
“I’m fine with heights. They don’t like me,” Vanessa counters.
“You can take the bottom bunk then,” I say, crossing my fingers. She contemplates it for a moment, before shaking her head.
“It would take me forever to repack, plus Adrian shouldn’t really be climbing up and down stairs to go to bed. He has a bad back.”
