Once Jake turns a corner, I slip inside my cabin and shut the door.
Papers across the room move slightly with the motion. Not surprising. Every surface is covered in paper. The bed, the desk, the chair—even the TV stand—are buried in notes I ripped from the back of an old notebook when I ran out of room. There are napkins from the buffet deck covered in sentences with my handwriting getting worse the later it got. I even found two paper plates in the kitchenette and used them as index cards, because apparently this is my process and no one warned me.
I take a few more steps into the room, wondering how the hell I’m going to clean all of this up before I leave.
There’s a timeline on the desk I don’t want to disturb, and the bed is covered in an arrangement of chapter notes I spent forty minutes on two nights ago and haven’t touched since.
It’s a mess, but...it’smymess. My thought process laid bare for me to see.
I can’t believe it. I finally have an idea and the second I committed, it suddenly felt like it all made sense. I know the story. I know her strengths and weaknesses; I know so much about this character that I feel like I know her, and because of that, I want to do her justice.
Suddenly, the ship’s loudspeaker plays a tune.
“Please be aware that we will be arriving at our final dock in two hours. If you would like to avoid queues, you are welcome to check out early at any concierge desk on the boat.”
Right.
I’ve got one hour to pack my brain up and make sure I don’t lose any of the papers. I scan the room, figuring out how I can do this.
That’s when I see my laptop on the edge of the bed. I still have one important thing to do before I leave this boat, and the deadline is tonight.
I reach over and take it from the bed, careful not to disturb anything else. Then I swipe Zach’s keycard from my desk and head to his room.
The second I open the door, I’m hit with his scent all around me, and I smile. The room is clean since I’ve only been using it to sleep at night. I’d never tell him, but the fact that his scent still lingers on the sheets has brought me a lot of comfort.
I take a seat at his desk and when I open it up, my inbox is already open. It’s moved my older, starred email to the top with a gray, italicized note over the date:
You received this 5 days ago. Follow up?
Well, at least my inbox realizes how imperative this is.
I take a deep breath and click on the email.
Subject:Transfer Confirmation Pending—Creative Writing, Bachelor of Arts. Enrollment start: September 3rd.
I take one final read-through of the email, as if I don’t know it by heart, then I click the link at the bottom and scroll through the terms and conditions.
At the very bottom of the page, there’s a green button.
'Confirm.'
I don’t debate it this time. I’ve spent enough time doing that. I just click it, and when the school banner pops up, I smile.
Congratulations! We are excited to have you join us.
I've done it. I've made the decision. This is the first day of the rest of my life.
That's all I think as I head out of the room and silently say goodbye to the place that brought me more peace and closure than I ever thought it could.
When I get back into my room, I slip my laptop in my bag and start to pack away all of my notes.
I take pictures of everything, marking the place before picking up each page in sequence and placing it in my notebook. The entire process takes much longer than it should, but I'm not rushing. Disembarkation can wait thirty seconds for me to get this right.
The room looks almost normal when I'm done. There's barely any hint that I've been in here, using this as my sanctuary for the last two weeks. Just a slightly rumpled bed and old towels.
I place my handbag over my shoulder and pull my carry-on suitcase to the door.
Right before I leave, I get my phone out.
