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chapter one
“Come on, girl. We're falling behind, and the safety briefing is about to begin—we can't afford to skip it," urges my cousin Alina, her grip firm as she navigates me through the dense swarm of eager passengers aboard the cruise liner. We weave between a sea of glistening bodies clad in garish Hawaiian shirts and slathered in thick layers of sunscreen–their excitement palpable in the humid air. This is my maiden voyage on the high seas, a stark contrast to the third member of our party, Alina’s older sister, my cousin Alice, who boasts the seasoned expertise of a veteran cruiser. With ten voyages under her belt, I’m inclined to believe it.
“I’m trying to keep up, but these damn shoes are going to make me twist my ankle. I told you they were impractical. Who in their right mind chooses high-heeled wedges for a cruise? And why on earth did we need to match outfits? Now I'm doomed to purchase a replacement onboard at an exorbitant cost,” I grumble, my irritation simmering over the fact that they persuaded me to join them at the last minute on this absurd singles’ cruise. At nineteen, I can’t help but feel that resorting to such desperate measures to attract a partner is premature, especially given my utter disinterest in the dating scene.
“They look fabulous, but please, steer clear of the railing. The last thing I want is for you to trip and tumble overboard. There are far too many stories of people vanishing from cruise ships, unseen as they slip into the ocean. And by the time their absence is noticed, the ship is miles away,” Alina rambles, her words igniting a flicker of anxiety within me. Her concern is appreciated, but she’s inadvertently fed into one of my greatest fears.
"Can we please just find a spot to stand?" I plead, feeling the sharp pinch in my calves from the impractical wedges. The elegant attire now seems ludicrous, an overambitious choice for the casual ambiance of the cruise's first day. Regret washes over me, a silent rebuke for succumbing to Alice's persuasive assurance that dressing up was essential. Why did I ignore my instincts and choose fashion over comfort?
“We’re almost at the front. You’ll thank me later!” Alina's excitement buzzes through the air, her eagerness palpable as she navigates the dense crowd with the agility of a seasoned weaver.
Someone hands us a pair of life jackets and we wiggle into them as we dodge past groups of passengers, their eyes sparkling with the thrill of the moment. The chatter around us melds into the clamor of excitement and anticipation, punctuated by the loud rumble of chants coming from a group of frat brothers who have joined the group. I trail behind, squeezing through the sea of people, my pleas for caution lost amidst the noise.
My gaze lingers on a group of giggling girls slurring their words and focused heavily on their vibrant pink water bottles, which they claim are filled with the best mimosas they’ve ever had. Despite the clear violation of the no-outside-liquor rule, the festive atmosphere has rendered the authorities oblivious, their attention scattered by the overwhelming exuberance of the crowd.
Alina's determination to reunite with her sister at the front of the crowd propels her forward, her actions a blend of familial loyalty and unbridled enthusiasm, leaving me in a wake of awkward festivity and mild chaos.
This is my first cruise and I’m beginning to think it might be my last. My quest for tranquility seems ironically distant, with weariness setting in just an hour after we stepped on board. For Alina's sake, I slap a smile on my face and mask my fatigue throughout the safety briefing, all the while yearning for the sanctuary of my private cabin. We’re lucky enough to have side-by-side suites with ocean views, thanks to Alice's accrued travel points and a generous contribution from my parents, who envisioned this trip as a memorable adventure for me. They insisted I come and then were particularly sentimental when I left the house this morning. I’ll never quite understand them. They encourage me to spread my wings and then become emotional when I do. It must be a parent thing.
* * *
After the requisite welcome briefing, the crowd disperses, and my cousins and I return to our cabins.
"Let's all take a breather before dinner, shall we? Be ready in the hall at 6:55 on the dot. We're dining at seven," Alice declares with a touch of authority, sliding her key card into her door's slot. She flashes a tiny wave and vanishes into her suite.
Alina, battling fatigue, shoots me a weary glance and stifles a yawn, urging me to call her when I wake. It seems we're unanimously in favor of a pre-dinner nap. We’re far too young to act this old, but if my head does not touch my pillow in ten seconds, I may fall asleep in the hall.
Lying in bed just twenty minutes later, I'm wide awake, gazing at the ceiling while the ship's horn blows, marking our departure. My parents have romanticized the idea of cruisers waving enthusiastically from the railings, blowing kisses to onlookers as the vessel pulls away. Had they been here, I would have indulged in that little performance, but in their absence, I find comfort in my solitude, preferring the quiet of my room to the bustling crowd outside. I’m here to enjoy myself, not look for a companion. My fellow passengers are either searching for the love of their lives or to have a few memorable days with multiple strangers. And I’m not interested in either activity.
I wish Amara was here. Ever since she returned to her parents’ home, wherever that may be, I've been thrown into the deep end, trying to click with new people. It hasn’t been easy. We were like two peas in a pod—we did everything together and even applied to the same college. For some reason, she kept tight-lipped about her destination, claiming it’s too small for a map. Sounds fishy, right? She's never been one to be mysterious, but there I was, getting the "we'll catch up soon" line. I knew in my heart that there was something she wasn’t telling me.
Left to my imagination, I cooked up this wild idea that her parents are spies, and she's keeping everything hush-hush to protect their assumed identities. What else could explain my ride-or-die not giving me her new address? We were practically sisters.
Restlessness gnaws at me, pulling me from the fitful embrace of sleep. I rise, the coolness of the floorboards barely registering as I reach for my phone. It's become a ritual, this immediate plunge into the digital world, fueled by a sliver of hope that Amara has finally broken her silence from wherever she now calls home. Yet, each time, disappointment greets me like an old friend, Amara’s continued absence echoing through the unread messages and notifications. I cling to the belief that she will get in touch soon, though my impatience makes the wait seem even longer.
As I rummage through my suitcase, laying out garments in search of the ideal ensemble for the cruise’s inaugural dinner, the soothing symphony of ocean sounds drifts in from the open balcony door. The rhythmic hush of waves caresses my senses, each crest and trough weaving a tapestry of tranquility that envelops me, softening the edges of my earlier restlessness. It’s heavenly—a natural lullaby that ushers in a flood of cherished memories, carrying me back to sun–drenched days spent on sandy shores under my parents’ watchful eyes.
I’ve always had an affinity for water. It’s like a siren’s song—an inexplicable allure that courses through my veins. From my earliest memories, I was captivated by my mother’s bedtime stories that recounted tales of our ancestors, whispering our profound connection to roaring rivers, serene lakes, and of course, the majestic sea. She claims it’s an intrinsic and undeniable part of our lineage, and that one day I’ll feel that same familiar calling to make a home by the water.
* * *
Promptly at seven, my cousins and I are in the dining room.
"There are so many men here. Does it seem to you that we women are significantly outnumbered?" Alice, clad extravagantly in what I consider to be excessive attire, feigns shock at the cruise's apparent gender disparity. Her act, though playful, barely masks her true intentions. Firmly on the hunt for romance, she's vocal about her quest for companionship. Nearing twenty-nine, Alice is driven by the belief in a ticking clock, one she’s convinced will explode by her next birthday, adding a sense of urgency to her hunt.
Glancing over my shoulder, I discreetly survey the room, tallying the men at a nearby table. Although I can't say for certain the entire ship has this ratio, if it does, Alice's chances of finding a potential father for her future children, or at the very least, a casual fling, seem promising.
"The gender balance definitely feels lopsided, and honestly, it's a bit intimidating," I confess, wrapping my arms around myself, a wave of apprehension washing over me amid the throng of men possibly seeking companionship—or something more. My heart isn't set on such pursuits. My cruise agenda is strictly about unwinding and relaxation, with no room for romance.
Alice dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand. "Don't overthink it. A little social interaction with men won’t hurt, and it doesn’t have to lead to anything serious. You're only nineteen, with endless possibilities ahead. Embrace it, have fun, and if anyone bothers you, just tell me. I’ll handle them."
"I'll manage," I affirm, picturing a peaceful retreat by the poolside, book in hand, and headphones ready to block any unwelcome flirtations. "You chase your man, cousin. I don’t need a babysitter," I tell her, my eyes widening at the lavish spread before us. The sheer quantity of food on my plate is daunting—I doubt I'll even make it through half.
"Just stay close and be careful around the railings," Alina cautions between bites of her sizeable shrimp cocktail. "A sudden gust could send you overboard!"
Her concern, though earnest, draws a silent chuckle from me. "Believe me, it would take a hurricane to dislodge this," I quip, gesturing to myself, dismissing the thought of being easily toppled by the wind. My behind alone will anchor me to the upper deck.
chapter two
