“It’s just a vibe,” I reply, not wanting to involve anyone else in my fucked-up interpersonal relations. If he’s as beloved as they claim, I won’t be the one to sour their opinion of him. I learned the hard way that exposing someone’s true nature to those who don’t want to see it is a fruitless endeavor. It’s easier to let people go on believing what they want to believe.
“Remind me not to be around you when I’m PMSing. I’m nothing but bad vibes,” Vanessa jokes, and takes a seat as the bus moves forward.
I spend the drive staring out the window, cursing myself for pretending that everything was fine between us. Pretending is part of my job description. Pretending that a bad haircut can be disguised with the right veil, or that the roadside flower bouquet the bride’s sister has put together is elegant, not kinda sad. Pretending a timeline is fixable after the day has fallen so far off course that we lose all the daylight before they say “I do.” And most importantly, pretending that I am happy to do it.
I should have said that I was saving the seat for someone or made up an excuse that we’d found ourselves in an in-depth conversation about cameras and I didn’t fancy picking it up. Anything but my actual opinion of him. An opinion I’ll have to spend the rest of the day backpedaling on so as not to cause any unwanted drama. Not that it stops me from turning in my seat and sneaking a glance behind me. I expect to see Hudson and Katherine canoodling like popular kids in the back of the bus, but instead I see Vivianne reading Katherine’s palm as Hudson sits alone, eyes focused on me.
The bus takes a sharp turn onto an embankment and I barrel forward in my seat. We all bounce up and down on the uneven terrain as I keep a tight grip on my camera bag. A few guests gasp, bracing themselves for impact. Thankfully the tires lock against the gravel, stopping right before we careen into the river. The driver gives us a lackadaisical thumbs up as we all anxiously disembark.
“Nothing like a little crash landing to remind you you’re alive, right?” Tonya, our guide, is unfazed by this descent, opening the doors with the same enthusiasm as a cast member at Disney World. And I have a new understanding of why the bus was leaking upon its arrival.
“Why do I have bad feelings about this?” Vanessa asks, still gripping onto the seat as if we survived a plane crash.
“Because it’s giving murder camp vibes,” Adrian replies, getting up with shaky legs.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot a quaint forty-person river cruiser with a blue-and-white awning waiting for us.
Bo stands on top of a boulder to assert his authority and addresses the group. “First things first, we gotta get you all squared away with some life vests.”
“Wish we would have had those on the bus,” Adrian pipes up.
Tonya opens the door to a metal shed to our left. A slew of life jackets plop onto the ground with a thud. Their absorbent material already weighed down by a day’s worth of water.
“Alright now. Don’t rush all at once,” Bo jokes as no one moves.
“Do we really have to wear these?” Katherine asks.
“Unfortunately I cannot allow anyone on board without one,” Tonya says sternly, and it’s apparent she’s the one really running this operation.
Willing to take the lead, Meredith and Grant are the first to toss the puffy polyester over their heads, which forces everyone else to fall in line behind them. Vanessa shrieks as cold water drips down her arms.
“Ew. Ew. Ew,” she whines as Adrian follows suit, clipping the protective strap around her chest.
Removing my backpack, I toss mine over my head and do my best to hold in the retch that wants to escape. If the suffocating, fishy odor weren’t enough of an omen, the residual river water instantly seeps into the silk shirt I’ve borrowed from Vanessa, exposing my black lace bra.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble to myself, crossing my arms over my chest. Even though the buoyant material covers most of me, it does nothing to hide the side view.
“At least it’s a cute bra,” Vanessa says, and I’m thankful she’s not mad I’ve completely ruined her shirt.
12 Hudson
“Ma’am I can’t let you on without a life vest,” Bo argues, as Susan tries to push past him. Although she might look like a brittle woman, I know that those forearms are built from three Pilates classes a week and the weight of countless shopping bags.
“We own a boat twice this size and I’m on it every other weekend. I know how to stay aboard,” she replies, tone sharp.
“It’s the liability issue,” Bo continues, his eyes darting towards Tonya, who is ushering on guests on the other side.
Between Mira giving me the cold shoulder, Katherine’s incessant flirting, and my mother’s inability to go with the flow, I’m overcome with a queasy seasickness and I haven’t even stepped onto the boat.
“Isn’t that what I signed that waiver for? To remove your liability?” she retorts. As someone who’s watched my mother chew out countless hotel managers, I know Bo won’t be winning this fight.
“I’m CPR and swiftwater certified,” I say, trying to de-escalate the situation. “I’m more than happy to take responsibility for her.”
As someone who deals with liability insurance claims at work, I know it doesn’t really work that way, but Bo must decide it’s not worth the headache and nods his head in affirmation.
“If she goes in, you’re going after her,” he warns as I lead my mother onto the vessel.
“This is definitely not theCarolina Dreaming,” Susan says, referencing the two-story yacht George purchased last year.
