Welcome to The Spot Writers.
Catherine A. MacKenzie’s novels, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a
psychological drama, and MISTER WOLFE, the darkly dark sequel or stand-alone
novel (18+), are available on Amazon.
This month’s prompt is to write a
story where a trip somewhere is featured or mentioned (from planning a trip to
the memory of a trip... everything’s allowed).
Cathy continues with her Melvin saga. . .
The Cruise
by Cathy MacKenzie
She glared at me as if I possessed black licorice lips. “Too soon,
Melvin. Covid isn’t over yet.”
“But we can’t keep unliving. Time to let go of fears.”
She sighed. “I agree. Just. . . I don’t know. A cruise? Everything
festers on a cruise. If one person boards with Covid, within days the entire
ship will have it. Same as what happens with the flu.”
“We can spend our time outdoors. We’ll get a balcony. Go ashore.
Breathe in the warm fresh air. We’ll stay away from the others.” I paused to
let my words sink in. What else could I add? “We’ll order in room service for
our meals. We don’t need to socialize with them.”
“Them? You act like it’s
a derogatory term. ‘Them.’ Like people
beneath you.”
“I didn’t mean that at all. I just mean we’ll take precautions. If
Covid weren’t around, we’d get together with everyone. Well, if they wanted to
get together with us, that is. But we can still walk around the ship. Go to the
library—you know how much you love to read. Tons of books there. And the gym.
Get fit and trim. We’ll keep our distance. When we go to both places.”
I eyed her. Was I getting through? “Let’s do it.” I thought she’d
agree almost immediately, but no, she needed more convincing. “The girls need
some fun in their life. Christmas was a bust and—”
“Yes, it was a bust, Melvin. You didn’t give me one present. Not
one!”
“I did, too.”
“Did not.”
“Did.” But had I? Thought I had. “Well, okay, then. If I didn’t,
I’ll buy you something at the gift shop on the ship. They always have such pretty
jewels.”
“Most of them are cheap. And fake. Never get your money’s worth
there.”
“Well. . .”
Marie interrupted my thoughts. “Yes, maybe. Maybe a cruise would
be good for us. Family time and all that. . .”
“Um, I didn’t mean for the girls to go with us. We could get Mrs.
Hemmings down the road. She’d take them in for the week. Even two weeks!”
“But you said the girls needed a break, too.”
“And they’ll have one. Time away from us. They’d love it.”
Marie flailed her arms. “No! If—and I mean if—we go, I want my girls with me. I’m already away from William. I
need to be with my family.”
Cripes, what about me? Aren’t I family? “Yeah, okay.” If the only
way we’d go on a cruise was with our daughters, fine. “But it’ll cost more
money. We’d need two rooms.”
“Two adjoining rooms, Mel. In case they need me in the middle of
the night. There’s still monsters under kids’ beds, you know.”
“Nah, no monsters.”
“Is so. There’s monsters everywhere. Especially now. With William
gone. They have nightmares and—”
“They’re just missing him, that’s all. They think a monster took
him and there’s monsters under their bed that’ll take them, too.”
“Yes, Melvin. A monster did take William. And don’t ever expect me
to get over it. I never will. Never!”
I held my breath. Hoping she wouldn’t stomp off. Had my cruise
idea sailed to sea? Did I dare speak? “Yeah, Marie, I get it. So we can go on a
cruise? You’ll book it?”
“Don’t I always book stuff, Melvin? When do you ever take the
initiative?”
“Whose idea was this trip, anyhow? So, yeah, I do take the
initiative. And you handle stuff so much better than me. Especially booking
crap.”
“I do it better because I take my time. I do it right.” She
sighed. “Yes, okay. I could use a break. Sure, let’s do a cruise. The girls
will like it. Worse comes to worse, I’ll sleep in their room with them.”
My wife sleeping with my kids—however innocent—hadn’t been in my
plans. But what the heck. She’d come around. That fresh balmy breeze would do
it. I’ll have my way with her. Mark my words.
***
Marie booked four flights to Miami, a hotel near the airport for
one night, and a nine-night Southern Caribbean cruise on the Grandeur of the
Seas. The itinerary looked amazing: Puerto
Plata, Dominican Republic; Basseterre, St. Kitts & Nevis; Phillipsburg, St.
Maarten; San Juan, Puerto Rico; and Labadee, Haiti. We’d also have two cruising
days. I’d given her the okay to book a balcony. As luck would have it—or
not—the room had two queen beds, so the girls could stay with us. The money
saved by not booking an extra room more than paid for the balcony. And who
needs two balconies?
The morning of the trip dawned, and it was a mad tear to the
airport. No one likes to get up at three in the morning, but we made it. Even
managed to handle the flight transfer at the Toronto airport. Imagine! Flying
from Halifax to Toronto and then backtracking to Florida. Man, flight schedules
are more than weird. Worse than that was being mashed with people at the
airports and on the plane. Even Marie couldn’t blame that on me. Paid for a fifty-dollar cab ride from the Miami airport
to the hotel, which was supposedly near the airport. I swear the cabbie took us
for a ride—literally. Couldn’t prove it even though I’m positive he drove in
circles just to increase his fare.
When we finally arrived at the hotel, Marie and I flopped on one
of the beds. The girls, of course, were on a roll and wanted to party, but I put
them in their place. “Gotta get up early again tomorrow, girls,” I told them.
“Gotta get some sleep or we’ll miss the boat.”
The next morning, it took four hours from the time the cabbie
dropped us off at the boat terminal (another fifty bucks!) until we boarded the
Grandeur. Another tiring day. And another mish-mash of people all horny to
board as if the boat would sail without them if they weren’t first on board.
Jeeesus!
When we got to our room, we ordered in room service. The four of
us sat on the balcony with drinks (Shirley Temples for the girls; white wine
for Marie and me), watching the boat sail from port. Spent a couple of hours
there until we went to bed. As far as I know, we all immediately fell asleep
unless the girls snuck back onto the balcony; who knows. They were in bed when
we woke up the next morning, so if they had snuck out, they hadn’t fallen
overboard. Praise the Lord for large miracles!
For breakfast, I ordered in room service again. The girls screamed
for pancakes. Marie and I had omelettes: meat-lovers for me, veggie for Marie.
After we ate, I’d barely placed the trays on the floor outside our
door when Sophie piped up:
“Mom, I’m not feeling good!”
Marie raced to her. “Not feeling good, sweetie? What’s wrong?”
“Dunno.”
“I’m not feeling good, either,” Penny said. Tears streamed down
her face.
“What’s up with you kids?” I asked. “We’re on vacation. Can’t be
sick on vacation.”
I looked over at Marie, who was sitting with the girls on their
bed. Her face suddenly paled. “What’s up with you, Marie?”
“Not well, either.” She snuggled in with the girls, pulling up the
linens to their chins.
Next thing I know, I’m not feeling well. What the heck? “Gotta
call the ship’s doc,” I said. “Must be food poisoning. The eggs. Marie, was it
the eggs?”
“No, it’s not the eggs. Melvin, I think we have Covid.”
“Covid? We can’t have Covid.”
“Why not? Look at all the people we were in contact with.”
“Oh, my fault, is it? Well, I’m sick, too.”
Marie grunted. “Look in the desk. There’s test kits in there. We
should test ourselves. No sense calling the doc. The information sheet advised
if you had symptoms that you use the tests.”
I ambled to the desk, found the kits, and returned to bed. We self-tested.
Disgusting tests. And all revealed positive results.
Marie groaned. “I shouldn’t have listened to you,” she mumbled.
“Perhaps it’s all our faults. You guys couldn’t wait to leave,
remember? All three of you laughing and jumping around with excitement. And buying
new clothes as if the Queen were gonna entertain us.”
I glanced over at the bed. All my girls were asleep. Had Marie
even heard my words?
“Dratted Covid,” I muttered. “Damn.” Gotta look on the bright
side, though. I’d have some peace and quiet from the female nattering, not that
there’s much to do with the peace, not when you’re sick.
I crawled into the cold bed, alone, since my dear sweet wife was
sleeping with our kids. I’m not stupid. I was quite aware what lay ahead. Could
see it plain as the sunlight shining through the sliding door from the
balcony.
As if I were psychic!
Yep: the entire cruise will be spent in bed. Except for the last
day, of course (there’s always an “of course”), when we’ll wake up—the disembarkation
morning—and the four of us will be magically all better.
******
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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