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I guess I don't know him as well as I thought.
As soon as we've landed on Suva, at the international airport, Rene pokes his head out of the cockpit and grins. "We're here, mates! Don't forget your bathers and watch out for the mozzies. You didn't even need to chuck a sickie to go on this trip."
I lean toward him and whisper, "Aren't you laying on the Aussie slang a bit thick, Rene?"
He winks. "Yeah, but the tourists love it."
"What did all of that mean, anyway?"
"I told everyone to remember their bathing suits and watch out for the mosquitoes. 'Chuck a sickie' means to call in sick for work when you aren't sick at all."
"Oh, I get it. I may need to use that term when I go back to work."
He gives me a devilish smile, then hollers to everyone, "Your rellies will be jealous you got to see Fiji. But watch out for the surfies when you're on the beach."
"Translation?" I whisper.
"Rellies are relatives, and surfies are people who surf."
"Gotcha. I'll have lots of new words to confuse my students with when I get home."
"If ya need more Aussie slang, just ask."
Craig and I wait while the other passengers disembark, then we follow Dale and Marcy down the aisle. Though I had landed on Suva just two days ago, I didn't really get to see the island. I'd jumped off a commercial airliner and hopped straight onto the resort's jet. Now, I get the chance to take in the surroundings. The airport isn't especially beautiful, but then, airports rarely are. A bus is waiting to ferry us around the city of Suva, and it's not an ordinary bus. As we march over there and climb inside, I realize our hosts have provided luxury transportation.
We visit all sorts of shops and eventually end up inside a quirky establishment that sells all kinds of knickknacks and novelties. I buy a cute little pair of cowrie shell earrings. But my ex-husband disapproves.
"Come on, Vanessa, those only cost ten bucks. Buy something extravagant. This is a vacation, after all."
"Therefore I should blow lots of money?"
"Exactly."
I shake my head and head over to a display of handwoven purses. Craig wanders away, out of my sight. Well, at least he can't tempt me to buy something extravagant if he's elsewhere. Craig used to be a diehard penny pincher. Now, he wants me to splurge. I guess I don't know him as well as I thought. But I can't deny I like this side of him. His new devil-may-care attitude is kind of sexy.
Maybe that explains why I let him screw me on the beach.
Once our shopping excursion ends, we head to a restaurant for lunch. Then we ride the luxury bus back to the airport. The driver is Emilio, and he parks thirty feet away from the jet so we don't need to walk very far. I'm impressed by all the perks the resort offers. They must have wealthy investors to pay for all of it.
An hour later, we're back on Heirani Motu.
We all traipse back to the resort, and the various couples split off to do their own thing. That leaves me and Craig with Emilio. He walks with us back to the lobby, but then, of course, he needs to go back to work. We might be on vacation, but Emilio is an employee.
In the lobby, Craig and I just stand here like we have no idea what to do next. I certainly have no clue how to politely say goodbye. It should be easy.Have a good afternoon, Craig, see you around the resort.But I can't speak the words. Instead, I swing my arms and hunch my shoulders. Craig scratches the back of his head and scrunches up his face.
Then he clears his throat. "So, ah, are you going to the masquerade party?"
"Um, I guess so. Might as well see what body paint is all about."
"Edible body paint."
I laugh, but it sounds nervous even to my ears. What, am I suddenly a sorority girl? No, I'm a mature woman who should not get embarrassed by edible body paint. I can show my students how to dissect a frog without flinching. This bizarre masquerade party won't faze me at all.
"What kind of costume will you paint onto your body?" I ask. "There will probably be a lot of superheroes, don't you think?"
"Emilio said they hired a professional body paint artist. I'm sure that person can come up with something more interesting than Batman."
I go back to swinging my arms while he goes back to scratching his head. One of us has to end this verbal torture, so I guess it might as well be me. I pat his arm, though I can't figure out why. "Have a good afternoon, Craig, see you at the party."
