“My…?” I nearly spit my drink out. I have to cover my mouth to right myself.
“Your husband!” she says, pointing to the rude, unsuspecting man beside me.
Annoyingly, he seems to find this amusing. “How kind,” he says in return. There’s something about his voice now I come to think about it, something rich, like he’s used to using it. “What a lovely offer,” he adds. Instead of, “This isn’t my wife.”
What the hell?!
It takes a second for my brain to catch up. “I’m sorry, we’re not…” I signal between us. Surely he recognises me too? I did have my hair up earlier, with sunglasses on and a different outfit – but still.
There’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells me he finds this whole situation highly amusing, or that I’m missing something. Or worse: I’m embarrassing myself. And, well, maybe I am. But right now, I need to set things straight. “I’m here alone.”
Oh well. Cat’s out the bag, I guess. Unfortunately, saying it out loud sounds even worse than it does in my head. The man watches me, an intrigued look on his face. He’s trying to read me. I see this look all the time at work. He’sintrigued, compelled to work out what my motivations are.
Well, tough shit, sir. All I’m giving off right now is nervous and jittery.
I need more wine.
“Are you single?” the lady asks, her excited pitch sending shivers down my spine. I have never been subjected to elderly matchmaking schemes and I would like it to remain that way. I can see where this is going, it’s like watching a car crash happen in slow motion.
I cringe. “Mmhmm,” I offer half-heartedly.
“And you?” she asks the man.
He’s still looking at me; I can see him in my peripheral vision. Heat warms my cheeks. Millie was wrong. I should’ve stayed home. I amnotenjoying myself!
I think the man nods but I’m trying not to give him any attention and I don’t want him to think I’m interested.
“Excellent. What luck! You look the same age too. You’ll be able to spend so much time together on this cruise. Come, come. Join our group,” she demands. “Roger over there, the man in the green shirt with the birthmark on his neck, is a pilot. He used to fly Concorde back in the day.” Then in a quieter voice she mumbles, “He married a trolley dolly.”
“Oh…” Is that bad? “Thankssomuch,” I say, carefully removing my hand from hers. “How incredibly interesting but you know, I was actually just…” I point towards the doors to the deck. “Fresh air.”
She nods. “Next time,” she says, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.
Time to run again, I guess. I’m not ready to talk to strangers. In fact, I’m not ready for this cruise.
Hot panic lurches through my limbs making me unsteady as I finish off my glass of wine, and head out to the top deck. It’s quieter out here, the wind and the sea air calming. What are the chances thatthatguy is onthiscruise? I don’t allow myself to consider this to be yet another sign from the universe and its endless vendetta against me.
I switch to aggressively sweet, but strong cocktails before dinner, soaking in the gorgeous sunset before heading to my table, properly tipsy. I’m relieved when I peek around the room and can’t see the curly-haired oaf. But the elderly woman from earlier offers me an enthusiastic wave. I raise my now empty cocktail glass in her general direction.
“Good evening, Mrs Locke.” A cheerful waitress hands me the night’s menu. “Is Mr Locke joining you this evening?” I look up to meet her warm smile.
“Just me,” I sing. She doesn’t catch my tone. “Can I trouble you for another drink?”
Four
It doesn’t really start to hit me until after my main course.
Something heavy lingers in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not the food. My vision grows spotty, my hands feel clammy. Is itinsanelyhot in here?! I’m starting to hyperventilate when a gorgeous dessert is placed in front of me, the kind you pour hot chocolate sauce onto to melt the sugar dome. All I can think about is how there’s no air in here, and I need to escape.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
I practically launch myself from the restaurant onto the front deck, where a warm breeze tangles in my hair, and stride straight up to the bow of the ship. I grab hold of the railing and lean against it, dropping my head. A seamless line of moonlight stretches out before me.
Breathe. Come on, breathe.
It’s really over. All of it. Not just the good parts, the bad parts too. It’s a cocktail of regret, sadness, relief and freedom. And I don’t know how to handle it.
Mike is the only long-term partner I’ve ever had and now it’s done it feels like a huge chunk of me, the person Ibecame in the time we were together, has fallen away.
