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Suddenly, David appears as if out of thin air. Thank God. “Want a vodka cranberry?” I ask. A hotel employee jumped on a shuttle going to the cruise port with his jacket, not even realizing what was hidden in the inside pocket. So David cleared customs just in time to get on-board, with his bags in tow. He’s already gone up to the cabin and dropped said bags. But the important thing is that he’s here now.
I won’t kill him this trip.
Laura, David and I clink cocktails as we leave port.
September 19, 6:00pm
I’m dressed up, but I don’t think too much. I turn back and forth. It’s just a simple black dress, but maybe the earrings are overdoing it? I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying. Except Iamtrying. Why is society so weird about clothes, anyway? Maybe we should all just show up naked. Dress code is semi-casual. They don’t specify that means wearing articles of clothing, but I suppose that goes without saying.
David is feeling a little queasy after last night’s sushi, so he’s staying back and ordering room service. I’m tempted to join him, except there’s no shrimp cocktail or lamb on the room service menu. I might have already taken a peek at the dinner menu posted outside the dining room.
Laura and I go downstairs by ourselves. Iimagine we look rather elegant as we make our way down. Two beautiful women. Yes, we are that awesome, thank you.I take one last peek at the menu as we walk in, so that I don’t take too long once we’ve sat down, and the waiter asks me what I want. Like that’s a simple question! There are three other couples at our table, all seated by assignment. I’m not sure what they make of us. Everyone else is an older, and they all appear to be straight couple.
I order shrimp cocktail to start and a glass of wine. I forgot I don’t actually like white wine, but I don’t want to seem rude by not finishing it. Plus, white wine goes well with fish, right? I feel very adult right now. Also, I wonder if the waiter could bring me apple juice in a champagne glass.
I try to talk to them, but I’m realizing I haven’t talked to anyone outside of work and dating scene in quite some time. I think my social anxiety shows. At any rate, I can’t talk aboutwhyI’m there(“Oh, yeah, just having a romantic threesome getaway with my two loves, you know?”) and the longer the evening draws on, the more awkward it is to not mention the reason for the empty chair between me and Laura. Although, actually, not that hard. The food serves distraction enough for me. Besides, I swallow another spoonful of delicately seasoned cream of asparagus soup, I don’t even know what to call Laura. I mean, as in a label. We haven’t had that discussion yet. Maybe we should. Not now, of course, but maybe sometime on the trip?
The sea is calm and flawless outside the windows. The waves rise and fall in gentle rhythm. The sun is a bright shimmering copper coin, and the cotton candy clouds drift across the horizon. I cannot wait until it’s night and we can go up to the top deck and stare into the dark skies littered with stars. The light pollution interferes, of course, but you can still lie on your back and stare up with philosophical ideals.
I play with my necklace to dissipate a bit of nerves, and I focus on enjoying my meal and the loveliness of the person sitting beside me. Oooh, did Laura get the cheesecake with plum compote? I was torn between that, and the honey poached pears with cinnamon gelato sitting in front of me. Okay, I’m allowed to steal one bite. Girlfriend rules.
September 19, 11:55pm
Being a mature adult is lovely. After dinner, we come back to the cabin to find David sitting on the balcony. He seems to feel better, so Laura and I quickly change and convince him to join us. Yeah, we didn’t need to do a lot of convincing. I dressed in a slinky maroon dress that fell heavily in waves around my waist, tied around the back of my neck and exposing my back (one of my best features). She wore a black glittery 1920s flapper dress. He dressed in a light grey pinstripe suit. Male fashion is not nearly as creative as female, which is really too bad. Did you know that a silly creature named Beau Brummell ruined fashion for men? Okay, that may not be entirely true, but still there was this whole movement back then that rejected the pomp of aristocracy for men in favor of plain back, gray, and blue. Women’s fashion was somehow saved, as our fairer sex still needed to be proper eye candy for the menfolk. Regardless, I get to wear pink and sparkly. Which is all that matters at the moment. I need my outfit to match my cocktail.
First, we wandered over to the karaoke bar, where we just missed the end of the evening’s karaoke.
“I’m not much of a singer, anyway,” I say to David and Laura.
“Oh, you should totally do it,” Laura retorts.
Then we attended an opera style performance. Okay, I’ve never been to a real opera, except for once in China, which had a drastically different version of opera. Chinese opera is loud and discordant. Bright colors, crude plot (insofar as I could tell), rather humorous and stylized. Very much unlike the cool demeanor of Western opera. I’ve also seen Phantom of the Opera, my favorite musical.
But this seemed to be a sort of opera, at any rate. Beautiful men and women spinning across the floor, while a man and woman sang in the foreground. Magnificent scenery. A bit more outgoing and colorful than I would have expected at a Western opera, so maybe it was something different? I really should keep track of the programs onboard. I just float around and pop into whatever catches my eye. And the theater here is gorgeous.
Afterwards, the audience drifted out in waves of fur and silk and velvet, murmuring about the skill of the performers. I wish there’d been more acrobatics, but, nonetheless, I felt elevated by my mere proximity to such a classy performance. The three of us meandered to our chosen bar of the trip, consumed mojitos and analyzed the finer points of the entertainment (including the curves of the lead female performer). Okay, so perhaps I can be a little shallow, too? But her pipes admittedly were only matched by the softness of her appearance. And I’m a sucker for a redhead (and, no, it doesn’t have to be natural, I love the confidence of a woman who dyes her head bright red or purple or blue).
As we made our way to our room, only hindered by our roundabout way in search of late-night chocolates and champagne (we were not disappointed), I thought to myself,what a decadent life you live, Kitten.I was about to say this out loud, but David popped a dark chocolate orange slice in my mouth.I guess I am not going to be allowed to say anything coherent until the morning.Happy Birthday, Kitten.
* * *
September 20, 3:00pm
It’s a sea day,so we don’t roll out of bed until lunch. David is clearly feeling better, and every time either Laura or I try to get out of bed or put on clothes, we get dragged right back into a tangled mess of limbs and love. “The ship is rocking,” he says, “and so must we! It’s Kitten’s birthday, so we must celebration early and often!”
After lunch, we make it out to the pool deck to catch some rays. Laura and I park on the folding chairs, holding hands with her face up and my face down so I can tan without straps. After a little while we switch positions, without breaking our finger hold. David takes control of the hot tub. It occurs to me that he may not have had a day off since I had met him.How is that possible?
We sun and soak all afternoon, interrupted only be brief interludes at the buffet to grab provisions and drinks.I can get used to this life.
September 20, 6:00pm
Tonight, David joins us at dinner. This elicits a startled reaction from the three couples that Laura and I met last night, but I can’t quite tell. He sits down in between her and I as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Neither she nor I introduced us as anything, not friends, not partner, certainly not lovers (how scandalous at a proper dinner table with white tablecloths!)
We simply eat heartily and talk about the weather and the sea and climate change. I wonder if it’s my imagination that the other three couples at dinner are quieter than last night. At one point, David puts his hands on both our thighs at the same time. The couple across from us gasps. They were just talking about spending the rest of the trip at the casino, and it appears that the wife is not amused with the triad across from her. The couple next to them, exchange a startled glance. As the gamblers excuse themselves to go back to the casino, the husband asks the awkward question. While Laura and I are trying to figure out how to respond, David jumps in, “Yes, these two lovely ladies are a couple, and I’m just here to help in any way I can.” This prompts a guffaw from the couple next to us, but seeing how David is not making a big deal out of it, everyone relaxes. And goes back to focusing on weather and food.
Ooooh, Baked Alaska for dessert! I can’t remember what it is, but I’m pretty sure I had it on my last cruise. I hope they have cherries flambé for dessert one night.
September 20, 8:00pm
