Braving the Waves (Cruisin’ With Curves)

5. Isaac

CHAPTER FIVE

ISAAC

Grant, my boss, is tapping his foot under his desk, his arm crossed, like he’s some kind of cartoon villain. “And it was absolutely necessary for you to carry her back to her room? You really can’t see how that crosses a line? It’s our job to uphold the boundaries between passenger and crew member, and you set that boundary on fire like a Fourth of July firework.”

I won’t get into the irony of Grant, who’s scolding me with a very thick German accent, making American Fourth of July analogies. “She was having a panic attack, Grant.”

He scowls harder. “Then you should have called a medic to handle it.”

I throw my hands up. “What would a medic have done? Slapped a blood pressure cuff on her? I was trying to make her feel safe. And I think that establishing that we’re a company who takes the safety and comfort of our passengers seriously is going to go a long way.”

His mouth tightens into a line.

Did I just pull that out of my ass so that I don’t get sacked for getting too close to a passenger? Yes. But is it also very true? Also yes.

His eyes meet mine, not amused. “This is an official warning, Isaac. You’ve always been a good employee, but I take this sort of thing very seriously. I expect indiscretions from the other activity directors. Those guys can never keep their hands off the pretty girls, but I expect more from you.”

I roll my eyes, even though I know it’ll just piss him off even more. “Grant, I was helping her through a tough time, not groping her in the hallway.”

He nods, knowing I’m right. “I want you to be more careful. Now go enjoy your day on land.” He makes a shooing motion, and I turn for the door, not particularly excited about being dismissed like a disobedient child.

But at least it’s a port day.

Port days are the best because there are no activities scheduled, so we get to get off the ship. Of course, when you’ve been on the same handful of ships for seven years, seeing all the same places and the same sights all the time can get a little boring. Today is Mexico, and I’ve been to Cozumel at least thirty-five times, but at least it’s a nice stop. The food is good and it’s loud and crowded, just the way I like.

“Wait up!” someone shouts from behind me as I walk through the port entrance. The gleam of hundreds of bottles of tequila under the bright lights is blinding. I’ll have to remember to grab a few bottles when I come back through. We get free alcohol at the crew bar, but I like to have a little in my room for when the bar is closed but the party isn’t over.

I turn and see Apollo rushing toward me. When he gets to me, he throws an arm around my shoulders and says, “Where are we off to today, Captain?”

I scoff. “If it’s up to Grant, I would be off to Monaco. He’d probably just toss me right over the side and tell me to swim back.”

He shrugs. “Seems doable. You’re a strong swimmer.”

I huff out a laugh.

“He’s mad about that woman in the storm?”

We wait in the line to file out of the building and into the hot sun shining down on the port. “Yep. Official warning mad.”

Apollo hisses through his teeth. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

I stand on my tiptoes to try and see why the line is moving so slowly. People are starting to pile up behind me. “Doesn’t matter what I think. Grant is the boss.”

“Grant’s an ass.”

Two women in front of us in beach hats, smelling like sunscreen, look over their shoulders at us. I smile at them, but the second they turn around, I elbow Apollo in the side. When we’re off the ship, we’re supposed to be as invisible as possible, and we’re definitely not supposed to be cussing around passengers.

“Stop being such a goody goody,” he says.

I send him a glare. “Even following every single rule, I still got an official warning, so I think I’ll be as much of a goody goody as I want to be, thank you very much. I’m not interested in getting sacked.”

Just then, my eyes find a familiar sweep of chestnut hair at the front of the line. She has it pulled up out of her face again, this time wearing tank top and denim shorts.

And then she’s gone, out through the door and into the sunshine of Mexico.

When we get to the door, my eyes scan all the buildings on the port. There are so many people, but it’s like I'm a heat-seeking missile. No matter where we are, no matter how many people there are, my eyes always somehow find her.

As soon as I'm out in the sun, I spot her, buying a drink from one of the open-air bars off to my left. She’s shadowed under the overhang, but I swear she’s shining as bright as the sun.

I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what it is about her that makes me feel so drawn to her. But I am. I want her, even though I know I’m not supposed to be anywhere in her vicinity.

But we’re off the ship now, and there are no security cameras.

“Hey, I’ll see you later,” I tell Apollo, already heading in Marley’s direction.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he says, raising his voice as I get further from him. He must have seen her too, standing amidst the crowd.

I don’t respond. No, it is definitely not a good idea, but I don’t care. I want to be near her. I want to hear her voice again. So I’m going.

“Wait! What about bottomless margaritas?”

I flip Apollo the bird over my shoulder, even though it’s terribly unprofessional behavior, and keep going.

But by the time I’ve begun to approach the bar, Marley has turned and walked away, a drink in her hand that she sips as she heads for the beach.

I know how creepy this would look to an outsider, me following her down the path as she goes. But I just want to make sure she’s alright after last night, and I don’t think Marley would mind.

Then again, I barely know the woman. Maybe she'll report me, and I’ll just end up getting sacked over her anyway.

Nevertheless, I follow her down the path to the beach. It’s full of people already taking advantage of the waves. Groups of people gather around instructors, getting ready to go snorkeling or horse-back riding or whatever they’ve chosen.

Marley hesitates, her eyes focused out on the waves, as I linger behind, trying to decide if this is the best time to approach her. But before I can make up my mind, she turns, heading down the beach.

I follow her further and further, until she’s on a mostly quiet stretch of ocean, with far fewer people sunbathing and loudly sharing buckets of mixed drinks.

And when she finally stops, several feet back from the water that’s slowly sloshing onto the shore, I realize she has that box, the one full of ashes.

MARLEY

I’m a coward. There’s just no other way to look at it. My mother asked me to spread her ashes on the ocean, and I couldn’t. It was hard at first, but when I tried again this morning, it was close to impossible. I couldn’t even bring myself to go up to the deck.

That storm, it broke something inside me.

So I brought my mother’s ashes to the beach. It feels safer here. Out on the ocean, if you fell overboard, you’d probably be gone forever, sure to eventually drown, even if you didn’t go down immediately.

The beach is much safer. I can let the water come to me. I can get as close to it as I need to without the danger of it taking me away.

Oceans swallow people. Oceans kill people. Oceans are dangerous.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

My face whips toward the familiar voice, and there he is: Isaac. After last night, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of his voice.

He’s not wearing his activity director uniform. I guess he’s off duty. He’s dressed in khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, his relaxed smile comforting after everything.

A reminder of last night flashes across my senses. The way he said, “Look at me.” The way he carried me to my room. The way his eyes lingered on my mouth.

If I’m being honest, I wanted to ask him into my room last night. I wanted to let him hold me in my bed because it’s been so long since I’ve been held. Since before my mother died.

I look away from him now, trying not to get caught up in his dimples. “Yeah, the fresh air is pretty nice.” I realize as soon as I say it how stupid it sounds. I could be getting fresh air on the ship, too. But instead, I’ve been cooped up all day in my windowless interior room. The cruise line tried to upgrade me, but I refused. I don’t want to have to spend this whole trip avoiding the view of the ocean outside my balcony window. It’s bad enough that there are windows everywhere on the ship so that I have to avert my eyes when I walk past. Staying inside is the easiest thing for me right now. It was always going to be.

“Are you going in?”

My eyes flit up to him, and I realize he’s talking about the water.

“No, I’m not.” I don’t elaborate, even though I see the curiosity cross his face. I clear my throat. “Thank you for what you did for me last night.”

He’s quiet, and I see him out of the corner of my eye put his hands in his pockets. “I’m assuming you’re better today?”

Am I better today? Or am I the same brand of miserable I’ve been for almost a year now? “Yeah, I’m okay.” I think if he were anyone else, I would try harder to fake a smile. I would try to come up with some way to explain away what happened, and I would try to convince him that I’m totally fine.

But it’s like I don’t have it in me to do that now, not with him.

“Could I ask you kind of a personal question?” he says.

I shrug. “Are you supposed to ask passengers personal questions?”

A slow smile creeps onto his mouth. “No. Definitely not.”

I can’t seem to stop the smile on my lips that answers his.

But then his amusement seems to fade a little, his eyes going serious. “Why are you on a cruise by yourself? Is this like a solo vacation?”

I snort, my eyes going back out to the waves that are very gently making their way closer to our sandaled feet. “It would probably sound way cooler if I said yes, but no. I’m here alone because the only person in the world who I really liked is, um….” I’m surprised when a lump forms in my throat. It’s been months since my mom died. Months since they handed me the box with her ashes in it.

To my surprise, Isaac reaches up and sets a comforting hand on my back. “Was it whoever’s ashes you were going to spread the other night?” His eyes find the box that’s sitting in the sand at my feet.

Still fighting back tears, I nod. “My mom. She died of breast cancer eight months ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m crying in front of a complete stranger right now. I can’t believe I’m even talking to a complete stranger about this at all. This was my mother’s thing. She was one of those people who talked to strangers in elevators. They would be Facebook friends by the time they made it to their floors. People look at me the way they look at stray dogs they’re hoping won’t follow them home.

“It’s okay. I just…I told myself that I was going to spread these ashes for her, to honor her, but I can’t even do that right.”

The water rushes up over our feet. I stare down at it like it’s an animal that could turn violent at any moment. I know I’m safe here, that the current can’t suck me under when I still have my feet on the sand, but I still have to fight the urge to step back away from it.

“Let me help you.”

I watch him for a moment, the way he runs his fingers through his hair and then puts them back into his pockets like he’s nervous. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

His blue eyes meet mine, impossibly bright under the shining sun. “Because I want to.”

Because he wants to. It’s probably not as simple as all that. I’m sure there are other reasons, other motivations for him, but for now at least, I’ll take it.

He waits for me to pick up the box of my mother’s ashes, and then stands at an angle beside me to block the wind as I open it. Two wet tears slide down my cheeks as I kneel in the sand, getting wet from my knees to my toes. The water washes in quickly, and I realize it’s getting higher, coming faster. My heart rate kicks up.

Isaac’s warm thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away the tears, and I turn my face to look at him. His eyes are sad, like he’s just as heartbroken by my mother’s passing as I am. He presses his hand into my collarbone, gripping firmly, like I might float away on a wave of grief.

It feels good, like being anchored to the earth.

And it’s enough that I’m able to turn the box over, my mother’s ashes drifting into the water and almost immediately disappearing as it crawls backwards into the ocean.

I’m left holding the empty box, until Isaac takes it from my hand. He reaches to set it in the sand where the water can’t reach and then takes my hands in his. He dips our hands into the water, the gurgling liquid washing over both of us. He presses a thumb into my palm, gently massaging, until the moment of grief passes, floating out with the ashes.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him.

He nods, lifting my wet hands out of the water. As I watch, he presses his lips to one of my hands and then the other. And maybe this is crossing a line, possibly a whole lot of lines, but I can only find comfort in it.

ISAAC

We sit in the sand for a long time, Marley’s empty box between us. It feels peaceful, but I know we’ll have to go back to the ship soon. We’ve been out here for a long time, long enough that Marley’s skin is starting to turn pink across her nose and on the tops of her shoulders.

“You said you were from Monaco,” she says in her American accent. “How did you end up working on a cruise ship?”

I sigh. I know she deserves the truth. She’s shared so much with me, been so vulnerable. The least I can do is share part of myself in return. “My father is a very successful banker back in Monaco. He and my mother, they’ve built an empire. They wanted me to be part of it, to sit at a desk and handle other people’s money, and be pushy and rude and controlling. I’m just not that type of person. But I’m also not the type of person who finds it easy to say no to the people I love.”

She looks over at me, eyes blazing in the sun. “So you ran away.”

It isn’t a question. She’s got me all figured out. I shouldn’t even be surprised. “Yes. I ran away. I had a friend who had heard that the cruise ships were taking anyone who applied, so I went. I’ve worked on my different ships in the last seven years, but this has been my favorite, so far.”

She smiles, the first time I’ve seen it, something soft and kind. “It seems like it would be fun.”

I shrug. “Just like any other job, it’s fun sometimes and not fun others.” I think about telling her I got called into the boss’s office today just for being near her last night, but I decide against it. I don’t want her to shoulder any more guilt.

“But you haven’t been back home?” I can tell she isn’t sure whether or not she should ask, but I don’t mind. It’s been a long time since I had a real conversation with someone about something that mattered, and it feels good to talk to her about this.

“No. I speak to my family sometimes, on birthdays and special occasions, but I haven’t been home. I’m afraid that if I show up, they’ll either refuse to speak to me or go right back to insisting that I join the family business.”

She nods, like she understands, even though I get the feeling that our lives have been very different from each other’s up until this point.

“What is it that you do?” I ask her to change the subject.

She gives a breathy little laugh, and I’m waiting for her to say something scandalous. If she tells me she has something like an OnlyFans, I will pass away. “I’m a pet sitter.”

English is not my first language, having grown up speaking French until I was a teenager, so I’m not entirely sure what she means by a pet sitter. “What is a pet sitter?”

She smiles, and this time it’s less of a soft smile, and more like real happiness. It makes her entire face shine. “I watch people’s pets while they’re out of town. I live in kind of a ritzy area, and I figured out really quick that people would pay a fortune for me to stay in their big houses and watch their high-maintenance dogs and cats while they’re gone. Just like you, there are good days and bad. On good days, I get to spend my time curled up on a couch, reading, with some adorable dog cuddled up beside me. On a bad day? Well, I once had a dog vomit on me while I was sleeping and someone once paid me to watch their pet snake for a month. The snake wasn’t so bad but feeding it was traumatic.”

I can’t help but laugh. I imagine this beautiful woman who seems to have a very kind heart struggling to feed one animal to another. Even I would find that to be challenging.

Her face turns toward me. “I almost died. It’s why I’m scared of the ocean. When I was little, I went to California with my mom and I got trapped in the current. It almost swept me away, but my mom got to me just in time.”

I can’t seem to keep myself from scooting closer to her or from brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “It’s okay to be scared. People die in the ocean all the time. It’s a scary thing. But you’re safe on the ship, I promise. In the years I’ve been working for the cruise line, no one has ever been killed by the ocean.”

I don’t tell her someone has definitely been killed by something other than the ocean–there was that guy two years ago who had a stroke–but that’s neither here nor there.

She smiles. “I can’t tell if that’s comforting or not.”

I smile back, my eyes falling to the curve of her mouth. I really want to kiss her, but not only is that against every rule in the book, it’s also really bad timing. She needs space to feel whatever she needs to.

I’m about to ask her to tell me more, to share more about her life, but then my eyes fall to the watch on my wrist, the one that’s there because I’ve had a bad habit of losing track of time.

“Shit,” I hiss, jumping to my feet. I brush the sand off my ass quickly. “I’m really sorry, but I have to get back to the ship. My shift starts in like twenty minutes, and I’m already on seriously thin ice.” I didn’t mean to say that last part, but Marley doesn’t ask me what I mean. She just looks up at me with wide eyes.

“Oh. Okay. I think I might stay a little longer.” She turns toward the sea, and her entire body is so different than it was when I found her earlier. No more sadness or hesitation or fear. She looks like she’s at peace, and that makes me want to smile.

“Hey, listen, there’s a crew bar on Deck 2. I’d really like it if you came down after dinner tomorrow night.”

Her wide eyes turn back up to me again. “To the crew bar? Is that allowed?”

I shrug. “Nobody will kick you out.”

Her mouth twists. “Once again, I can’t decide if you’re being reassuring or not.”

I start to walk backward toward the path that’ll take me back to the ship, sticking my hands in my pockets. “Guess you’ll just have to come and see, huh?” I don’t give her time to respond. I turn and race for the path.