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As strange as it might sound, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
My life in Dublin seems like another lifetime.
Something else is calling me now… something I cannot put my finger on, but it’s been getting stronger the closer I get to America.
In this moment, I have no fear, only faith that everything is unfolding just as it ought to.
“You do remember I said what lies ahead won’t be a walk in the park?” Claudette’s voice comes from behind.
I smile. She and I have been spending a lot of time together, and she has joined me up here many times.We’ve talked for hours or just sat quietly enjoying the stars.
“Yeah, I know,” I tell her, smiling, because remember? I’m feeling fearless.
“But you’ve got this.”
I hug her . “I’m going to miss you,” I tell her, and I really will.
She’s a lot of fun when you get to know her. It’s been weighing heavily on me that I haven’t been able to tell her the truth about me, but I dare say she knows enough anyway. She seems to know everything.
“I’ve got something for you.” She hands me a bright green envelope with my name… well, my new name written on it.
“Don’t open it now. Keep this for a rainy day,” she instructs. “You’ll know when to open it.”
“Okay,” I say with a skeptical expression on my face. “Just any rainy day, or do you have a specific one in mind?”
“You’ll know.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m glad I met you, Ash.”
I turn to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “Me, too, Claudette.”
“Even if you avoided me those first few days,” she teases.
“Well, you spooked me that first night. Oh! That reminds me. I still need to give you back your paperweight heart.”
“No, no, you keep it. As a reminder of me. I think it was always meant for you anyway.”
We stare at the dark sea together for a while longer before we say goodbye. And then, as quietly as Claudette appeared next me, she disappears into the night.
The next morning, I apply the makeup that makes me look like Ash. It’s become a habit now, but I still don’t like the time and effort it takes.
I walk off the cruise ship with one last lingering glance back. Maybe I should just keep this job and cruise the world.
Then again, being a kitchen hand sucked. Spending hours in a crowded and noisy kitchen with no windows is not my kind of fun.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I near the immigration officials, fake new passport in hand. It’s only the second time I’ve had to test it out, avoiding going on land when the Sea Princess anchored a few times. Sweat forms on my brows, but if anybody asks me, it’s because it’s a hot fall day.
I keep my face down to avoid the cameras as I wait in line. The male border officer waves me to his desk and takes my passport.
He scans my identification and gruffly asks, “Anything to declare?”
I shake my head no.
He takes a look at me, then studies my passport, then looks back up at me before scanning the first page.
Oh God, I feel sick. I’m perspiring here. At least if I throw up, I can blame it on the baby.
