When Love Goes Bad

by AnonYMous

  But Earl took care of making the decision for me. School let out for the summer on a Tuesday. Wednesday morning, I got up early, drove into Houston for my yearly physical. Then I took my car in for an oil change, and to the grocery store, where I bought over $300 worth of groceries. After I arrived back at the house, I filled the cabinets, the refrigerator and freezer, and then stocked our travel trailer. We’d planned a trip for the summer, and now everything was stocked and ready to go.

  At least, I thought we had planned a trip. I’d noticed that Earl was very uninterested in the planning, but I’d thought it was just because our marriage was so strained as of late that we could barely talk to each other, and the thought of being together for three whole weeks, just the two of us, was more than he wanted to think about.

  Well, after the groceries were put away, I cooked a nice supper, cleaned up the kitchen, took a long, hot bath and went to bed about ten, totally exhausted. I was so glad that school was out and I could sleep late the next morning; it usually took me about a week to unwind after school let out for the summer.

  About midnight, the bedroom light came on and as I covered my eyes with both hands to block out the sudden brightness, I heard, “Get up. We need to talk.”

  Pushing myself up onto one elbow, startled from such a deep sleep that I felt drugged, I gasped, “Talk about what, Earl? I’m tired. Can’t it wait until the morning?”

  “No, it can’t!” he said in a disgusted, hateful tone. “I’ve found someone else and you need to get out!”

  “Get out? Earl, what are you talking about? Do you mean for me to move out?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean! Unless you plan to fight me for the house. If you do, I’ll move out and we can fight it out in court. But I’m entitled to half of your savings and half of the money you’ve received on that other house that you’ve got rented out. So it’s up to you.”

  In total shock, I finally told him that I would go into Houston the next morning to look for a place to live. I had never lived in an apartment before, but since I’d leased out the home that my first husband and I had owned to an elderly couple that wanted to live there until they died, my only option was to rent.

  So, by daylight the next morning, I was on the road. I looked all day Thursday, and by noon on Friday, I’d found a place. By Friday night, about midnight, my two children and their friends had rented the biggest U-Haul trailer and had moved me back into Houston. My kids were both so happy for me that I was coming back home to live. Earl had tried to cut off all ties between my children and me, but it hadn’t worked—all his lies and deceit were wasted on them. And now, they had their mother back again.

  The only upsetting thing about my moving out was that right after I’d spent $300 of my entire June paycheck to stock the house and the trailer with groceries, the only thing he let me have was a brand-new, unopened jar of peanut butter. I had to go to the store and buy a loaf of bread—just so I could make myself a sandwich! Also, I’d paid half for the new roof, the new wooden fence, having the house leveled, the yard put in, and I’d bought all of the shades, drapes, lamps, carpeting, linoleum, and decor for the house. And Earl got it all. I walked away with only what I’d brought with me originally: my clothes and my furniture. I felt cheated for a long, long time. Especially every time I went to nail a nail or needed a tool, and realized that he’d kept all my tools, to boot.

  But now, three years later, I’ve bought myself a home and a new car, and I’ve pursued the writing career that Earl would not allow me. I’ve traveled to six different countries, and I will soon have a book published; it’ll be in the bookstores in two months. One of my lengthier poems was even read by our congressman in the House of Representatives, and it’s now registered in the Congressional Records. My work has been published in six newspapers and two magazines, with much more now out under submission for publication. And I will soon begin teaching a writing class at our local college.

  I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. Thank you, Earl.

  Oh, and by the way—he married the “other” woman, left our home place, and moved in with her. She was thirty-six years younger than he was. Two weeks later, she kicked him out and sued him for divorce. She should’ve talked to me first; I could’ve saved her a lot of grief. After all, I know all of his secrets—

  Many of which are not in this story. . . . THE END

  IS THIS JUST A SHIP BOARD ROMANCE

  I learned my lesson the hard way

  Eight more inches of snow finally did it. I mean, that’s what got me dreaming about sugar sand beaches, sun sparkling on aquamarine water and the smell of coconut oil.

  When I heard the dull scraping of snow plows in the middle of the night, I buried myself under the down comforter. But when I woke up the next morning and poked my nose under the window shade, there it was.

  More snow.

  “You’re going to be late, Tina,” my mother called up the stairs.

  The shower didn’t do anything to improve my spirits that morning. I knew before long I’d be out there in the freezing cold, shoveling my car out of the drifts on Belmont Avenue because the garage in back was only big enough for dad’s station wagon.

  So I blew dry my hair and brushed my teeth at the same time, grumbling all the while. Then I pulled on dark pants and white blouse, my uniform at Special Grinds. After downing the bowl of cereal so that my mother would go back to bed, I grabbed the heaviest coat I could find bulging from our front hall closet. Then I jammed a knit cap over my curls and pulled on my mittens, ready for winter in the frozen north.

  “Your lunch.” My mother reappeared, holding out a lunch bag.

  “Meatloaf?”

  She nodded. What else. Meatloaf was on the dinner table last night so meatloaf was in my sandwich today. What did I expect? A croissant with thinly sliced turkey and Dijon mustard?

  I sighed, grabbed the bag, pushed open the front door. Then I lost my footing and fell into the snowbank behind me. Great. There I was, scooping up meatloaf from the snow, getting ketchup on my navy mittens.

  The next ten minutes I spent cleaning off the car and doing a little dance to avoid the traffic that had began start to move down Belmont. When I finally bundled myself into the car, it slowly ground to life, but at least it got me to work. A little late maybe, but better late than never was my motto.

  My job at Special Grinds was a dead end with no future and I knew it. I mean, how many kinds of cups of gourmet coffee did I have to whip up before I moved up the corporate ladder?

  And my love life sucked. I mean, dating Fred Schuster, who I’d know since grade school, was about as exciting as watching paint dry. His job as assistant manager of Video Masters held about as much promise as my career.

  My best friend Maria Denado had married her high school sweetheart and they already had one baby and another on the way. She was ecstatically happy. But I just didn’t see that in my future, not even if Fred hog-tied me—and actually, maybe if he’d try something like that, our love life wouldn’t be so boring.

  That afternoon as I sat in the back storeroom, surrounded by cases of coffee, eating the cold meatloaf sandwich, I picked up the paper. The boldface ad caught my eye. It was exciting. It was tempting. It was my passport out of here.

  “Cruise away to a new life.”

  Exotic ports of call. Warm breezes, sunny days and co-workers from countries across the globe. Licking the ketchup off my fingers, I ripped out the ad and stuck it in my pocket.

  Things moved pretty fast after that. After being assured that I’d love this job and would only work the southern and eastern Caribbean, I signed up for six months. What did I have to lose? Only this miserable weather and my boring life.

  My mom and dad drove me to the airport. Fred had offered but I was relieved when he couldn’t get off work.

  “You’ll catch a terrible disease,” my mother sobbed into her handkerchief as we drove down the slick streets in early morning darkness.

  “Ship
s have doctors,” my father said staring straight ahead and aiming for the road that ran between the four foot piles of snow that lined every road.

  “Be sure to write. Let me know us know you’re all right.” Mom wouldn’t stop worrying.

  “Sure, right.” I was shivering in the thin sweater I’d worn, planning on the eighty degrees in Puerto Rico.

  “They’ll take care of her, mother,” my father said as he pulled up in front of my airline. “They deal with young people every day.”

  My mother was still crying as I waved goodbye and plunged into the revolving door, wheeling my suitcase behind me.

  Then I hummed “Margaritaville” all the way through check-in to the plane. This was the greatest adventure of my life.

  Well, it turned out to be an initiation in many ways.

  “You can save all your money,” the man had said during the interview. “Your meals are taken care of and so is your room. Nothing to spend it on, you Know? Except for those trinkets when you go on shore.”

  We’d had a little trouble nailing down my talent during the interview. Thank goodness for the senior play and my role in “Grease.” Those dance numbers qualified me to be an activities assistant, which was a fancy way of saying I was going to help people have fun.

  As if anyone would have trouble having fun on a cruise ship.

  When the plane landed in Puerto Rico, I was packed onto a bus with a lot of other kids about my age. When we reached the ship, my jaw about dropped to the ground. Star of the Sea towered above me. I couldn’t see the top deck from where I was standing. The water lapped against the gleaming white sides, dotted by portholes trimmed neatly in blue. I could see inviting stretches of decks and balconies.

  And this was going to be my home.

  My cabin was about half the size of my bedroom at home, a single bed at either side with a night stand in between. A book and a picture of an older couple were neatly arranged on one side of the night stand so I swung my suitcase onto the other bed and sat down.

  While I was stuffing my T-shirts and shorts in the drawers inside the one empty wardrobe, the door swung open. A girl with dark hair braided around her head and big brown eyes stood in the doorway.

  “I am Randu,” she said, a shy smiling playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Tina. Tina Rossini,” I said. “Glad to meet you. Looks like we’re roommates.”

  “I see that you have found everything. I hope you will be comfortable.” When she opened her closet, I saw about four dresses hanging neatly on hangers. Two pairs of shoes stood on top of the four drawers.

  Most of my stuff had not fit in the closet and was now stuffed under the bed. I’d worry about ironing later.

  “Have you been working on the ship long?” I asked.

  She nodded. “For about six months now.”

  “So you must like it?”

  “It is a wonderful opportunity for me.”

  I stretched out on the bed, feeling a little sleepy. “Me too. I’m going to get some sun, catch up on my reading. You know, do the cruise thing.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, I think you will be very busy, Tina.”

  “Yeah sure.” I turned over on my side. Nap time.

  “You have a meeting in twenty minutes,” she said in that quiet voice that reminded me of Mrs. Geldorf, the librarian in high school.

  I rolled back to face her and opened one eye. “A meeting? Now?”

  She nodded. “They will want to check everyone in. You will be given your assignment and your schedule. I will take you there.”

  “Hmm.” Rats. I swung my legs off the bed and sat up.

  As I followed Randu down the carpeted corridor, I thought it would be pretty easy to get lost on this ship.

  The meeting room was packed and the woman at the front quickly took us through what was expected of us. By the time she wrapped it up, my head was whirling with names like Starlight Theater, Sea Horse Lounge and Sky Walker’s Night Club. We each picked up a packet as we filed out of the room.

  If I thought I was going to take a nap that day, I was mistaken. My schedule said that I was assigned to the Game Room to greet newcomers. Well, not many guests filtered into the Game Room that afternoon, and I would have been much better off snoozing. But there I was, smiling and showing people the ropes.

  These women looked like they spent most of their time shopping and eating lunch at exclusive clubs, I thought, eyeing the trendy linen shirts with matching shorts and leather slings. My cheeks ached from smiling by the time I packed it in that night.

  Randu had to work that night but she showed me how to get to the employee cafeteria. What a spread. My plate was quickly filled with pork and pineapple, seafood salads and red beans and rice. Not a slice of meatloaf to be seen.

  After the mandatory lifeboat drill that night, I lingered up on the deck as the guests trailed back to their cabins, yellow life preservers in hand. Leaning out against the rail, I let the breeze finger through my hair, loving the inky back night. Looking up, the stars were so clear, cut from a dark velvet sky.

  Was I in heaven or what?

  Belmont Avenue was a million miles away.

  There was a staff party that night, and for me, it would be the first, so I beat a retreat to my room, pulled my lime linen sheath from the closet and ducked into the shower. Randu was no where around. As a wine steward she worked every night, something that I wouldn’t be too thrilled about. But she seemed satisfied, and I later learned that she earned pretty good tips.

  Dashing downstairs, I could hear the music echoing down the hall and didn’t have to look hard for the room. Lights were low and the room rocked with American music.

  All right. Party time.

  Grabbing some rum punch from the bar, I started to mingle. The group was in high spirits—a group of mostly young people who were attractive and energetic. My kind of people. Everybody was friendly and very curious about the States and where I lived.

  But I found my attention straying to the guy who was the disk jockey.

  One of the other girls saw me eyeing him. “Yeah, Jack works upstairs for the guests, but sometimes he handles these parties too, if he feel like it.”

  Hmm, if he feels like it. Sort of sounded like Jack called his own shots. His dark hair was pulled behind into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. Very sexy. Shocking blue eyes were edged with sooty lashes under thick brows. He wore one of those long sleeved shirts that looked baby soft and his pants tucked in at narrow hips and then draped till they broke on his boots.

  Yep, Jack had a snappy air about him, like he definitely knew who he was and what he wanted. Sure a far cry from Fred, who plodded through each day with no plan, no goals.

  I tore my attention back to the group. “So what do you guys do for fun? I mean, besides getting together for these parties.”

  There was some feet shuffling. Finally a fellow who’d introduced himself as Emil spoke up. “We are all members of the crew, Tina. Many of us are the waiters and waitresses, so we have fun, yes.” He shrugged and his sunny smile came out again. “But we are happy to be here. I am from Serbia. Idalia is from Chile. This ship, well, it is a good thing for us.”

  “Yeah. Right.” I nodded as if I got the picture, but it would be a while before I understood that cable TV and cars were a big deal with these folks.

  Jack had moved away from the mike and began to make his way through the crowd. Everyone seemed to know him, and he joked and laughed as he moved easily from one group to another.

  The seas sort of parted for Jack, if you know what I mean.

  I ran my hand over my hair, which had ballooned into Big Hair in this humidity, and slipped my feet back into the sexy strappy sandals I’d kicked off earlier.

  Yep, Jack was something else, I thought as he joined our group. Broad shoulders, killer smile and expensive cologne.

  “Hey, guys, are we having fun?” He draped an arm around Idalia, who didn’t seem to mind. “Welcoming a new recruit?” His eyes loc
ked with mine. “Don’t believe a thing they say about me.” Then he winked.

  Whew, it was like a hot breeze came through that room with an arctic chaser.

  “This is Tina,” Idalia said. “She is from the United States.” She said it as if I was the queen of England.

  Jack nodded and his eyes moved down my little linen sundress and stopped at the hemline which was a good five inches above my knees. “Tina. And just what do you plan to do on board? Oh, let me guess. Bet you’re part of the party crowd.” The blue eyes danced.

  “Party crowd?” I echoed.

  Jack laughed. “You really are new. You know, you’re one of the babes who hands out the hoola hoops at the sock hop and the bingo prizes in the game room.” His eyes brows went up. “Now I ask you, how cool is that.”

  “Guess I can handle it,” I said dryly, a little annoyed by his attitude. Then he was gone. The room temperature dropped to normal and suddenly it was lights out time for me.

  “See ya’ around,” I said to the group as I left.

  “Good night, Tina. Good night.” The chorus of farewells rang in my ears as I made my way to my deck and I went to bed that night feeling as if I’d already made friends.

  I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of men in dark ponytails whose eyes spelled trouble.

  Sometimes during the night I could feel the ship move but everything I’d eaten stayed put, if you know what I mean. Besides, anything was better than the snow up north and Belmont Avenue seemed a million miles away.

  The next day I was up early, down to breakfast and then on to the Activities Office. There were about a dozen or so of us and we were given assignments. I was assigned to the Game Room again and the morning flew. I went from the backgammon games right into bingo.

  As I sat there calling out the numbers for folks, I had the worst fit of giggles. Wasn’t so very long ago that I was doing the very same thing at Saint Rita’s grade school to raise funds for a new boiler.