It seemed a question, yet was spoken as a statement. “Yes?” said Charlotte.
“Good. We begin,” said Norma. She turned and plodded down a neon-lit hallway. Charlotte’s heart began to beat audibly in her ears. Why was it so easy for everyone else to forget they were underwater? This knowledge hit Charlotte at random intervals, making her woozy.This is so wrong!Her brain would scream.I am UNDERWATER! HELP ME!
Norma turned around to make sure Charlotte was following. Charlotte was not following. She was paralyzed, seized with terror. “I don’t—” said Charlotte.
UNDERWATER! UNDERWATER! NOTHING ON BUT PANTIES! UNDERWATER!
“I don’t think I am ready for this,” Charlotte managed. “I don’t like being naked,” she said, or thought she said, sitting down, the revolting floor wet underneath her bottom. She was wearing panties, thank goodness, she was wearing panties. Where was she? Why was there a pool in the middle of a casino? Why were there naked people in a pool in the middle of a casino?
Someone was cradling her head, and Charlotte could have stayed with the present. She could stay but she just didn’t want to. So much more joy lay in the past! The day she met him, the day he called for her, the way he touched her body, the one summer she was free! Paella, smelling of saffron, at a bullfight in Arles! Charlotte let herself fall into memory, so much richer than whatever on earth this wet casino was.
She was wearing a linen robe. The slice of Provençal sun from the window was warm across her lap. He put down his pencil. Within moments, he had parted her linen garment. She was naked, she was open, like the gift she would become.
—
THE SOUND OF FOOTSTEPSpierced her airy doze. Charlotte opened her eyes to find that she was lying down on a massage table, wearing her spa robe. “Ah,” said a man in a white coat. “I’m glad you’re awake. Do you have any remaining dizziness? Nausea?”
“No,” said Charlotte.
“Well! It seems you had a bout of seasickness,” said the man. “You might want to stay lying down for another hour or so, or we can bring you back to your cabin and settle you in with a movie and a cup of tea.” He angled his head quizzically, an obsequious bird.
“Please call my children,” said Charlotte. “I’m here with my children. I’m not alone on this cruise! If you just call them, I’m sure they’ll come right away.”
“Well…” said the doctor, shifting uncomfortably. “We did try to reach…”
“Did you try all of them? All three?” said Charlotte.
He looked around the empty room. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We left messages, but…”
“Oh,” said Charlotte. “I see.”
“Would you like to be escorted back to your cabin?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” said Charlotte, a familiar ache in the pit of her stomach. “I’m fine on my own.”
“I could call your porter? I think it would be best.”
“Paros?” said Charlotte, thinking of kind Paros. Handsome Paros. “Oh, yes, thank you,” she said.
—
PAROS OPENED THE DOORto the massage room quietly. Charlotte was dressed and ready, her purse in her lap. “Oh, Charlotte. Are you all right?” said Paros.
“I,” said Charlotte. “My children…” She looked down, too tired, suddenly, to put a happy face on things. “I fell,” she said, “and none of my children came to help me. I took them on this cruise, but I’m still all alone.”
Paros looked grim, seemingly saddened by this news. He drew near, held out his arm. She hooked her own arm through his, leaned into him a bit. “Well, Charlotte,” he said, “I’m here.”
“You’re here,” said Charlotte.
“Forgive me for being afraid, earlier,” he said.
“I do,” said Charlotte.
Paros brought his face close, closed his eyes. She did not move away. And then he kissed her.
BEFORE BREAKFAST AT SHELLS,before the Day Tour of Arles & Aix-en-Provence, Cord rose early, showered, and headed to the Friends of Bill W meeting in the Starlight Lounge. With Handy’s encouragement, he’d taken an overnight, zillion-euro taxi to Livorno, blearily boarded theMarveloso,and forced himself to attend a Sundowners AA meeting. It was a nice group of alcoholics, and for lack of any better ideas, he’d set his alarm for the morning meeting before zonking out in his cabin.
The chair of the Sunrise meeting was a guy in a bathing suit and Cozumel T-shirt. He had long silver hair, which he ran his hand through as he spoke. “Hey. I might just go on and start,” he said. “I’m Jacob and I’m an alcoholic.”
