Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  George met her eyes, and said, “Are you sure? You don’t want to upset him, do you?”

  “He’s not here,” she replied.

  He furrowed his brow for a moment. The expression faded so fast, Lori wasn’t even sure she saw it. “As you wish,” he announced, before taking his leave.

  “Why didn’t he bring sauce?” Reina sampled a piece of the calamari. She sank back into her seat with a look of satisfaction. “Dear Lord...”

  “That’s why. Good seafood doesn’t need anything, except maybe a little salt and lemon. In some cases, you can even use a mixture of the two to cook the fish.”

  “You like cooking?” Reina asked.

  “It’s something I’m very passionate about. I wanted to own my own restaurant when I was younger—something by the beach, where we could sell stuff like this.”

  “I noticed you said ‘we.’”

  Lori pursed her lips and laughed to herself. “I was idiot enough to marry my high school sweetheart, Cade. That’s why I never actually bought the restaurant.” She sipped her drink.

  “You’re not going to try some?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “This reminds me of him. He was a fisherman. He owned this little boat, and he’d go out for days, sometimes even weeks. It got lonely. Every time he came back, he’d bring bags of crab, shrimp and lobster—more than we could eat, but I’d freeze them anyway. Then I’d slice some lemons, and we’d sit down with a big bowl of oysters. I think that’s why I love them so much. Oysters meant he was home.”

  “That must’ve been hard, especially after marrying him so young.”

  “I was inconsolable; I won’t lie, but that was a long time ago,” Lori said, plucking up a strip of kalamari. “He was so good at fooling me. I never would have suspected him to—I’m sorry.”

  “A beautiful lie,” Reina said.

  “More than beautiful—perfect. He was too good, and maybe I should have seen that. But you know...”

  “Love is blind,” Reina said, finishing her thought. “That is one of two universals truths in the world.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “Nothing lasts.”

  “I wish you were wrong,” Lori said, adding, “I just wish I didn’t have to go through this trip alone.”

  “Why?”

  “The men can smell unclaimed meat. It’s uncanny. They’ll follow you around, think up excuses to talk to you; they’ll even come right out and ask you on a date.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied. “I had one guy at breakfast—he invited me over to his table, right after his girlfriend left crying. You chose the wrong place to go stag. Let me tell you.”

  George came striding up, holding a container of aioli for Reina. “Ladies, there’s a gentlemen that would like to join you, if he may.”

  “No,” Lori held a hand up, and they both shook their heads. “We would not like to be interrupted.”

  “You heard her.” Reina said. “We don’t want to be bothered.”

  She gave Lori a grin. “I hope you understand.”

  “I do. Your entrees will be out shortly, Was there anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I apologize for the intrusion,” George said, before leaving them with the aioli.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Reina was holding an oyster.

  “Yeah, it is. I’m tempted to go without bathing the rest of the trip, so I can repel everything with a dick. Here,” she took an oyster of her own. “You’ve never eaten one before, have you?”

  “Well, I’ve had them, but...not....”

  “Not raw?” Lori prodded.

  “No.”

  “Well, this is what you do. You lift it to your lips, and you take it like a shot.”

  “Is it...?” Reina’s upper lips curled.

  “It’s fantastic. Try, but without the lemon, first.” Lori added when Reina went to grab one of the wedges.

  “Why?”

  “Oysters take on a distinct flavor, depending upon where they’re caught. When you try one, you’re not just sampling the meat, you’re experiencing a small piece of their world.”

  “That’s poetic,” Reina sucked the meat off the shell. “Mmm...so good.”

  “It is.” Lori set hers aside and focused on her drink. She threw back the diminishing well at the bottom and poured herself another. “Cade used to say that.”

  “It’s just chemical,” Reina said.

  “What?”

  “That rosy feeling, the pain, the regret. We’re slaves to juice churning around in our heads. Don’t give in to it. That’s what I say. There’s no point in falling in love.”

  Lori raised her glass. “Fuck love.”

  “Fuck love,” Reina tapped hers to it. She took every drop; they both did, and when she was done, she set it down with a gasp. “We’re a couple,” she motioned a finger between them, “you and I, and I don’t mean...”

  “No, I know.”

  “We’ll make the most of this cruise—get fucked up, dress up, stretch and strut in front of all the guys, and if anyone asks, we’re together.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I need you to play the buddy system with me,” she went on. “I don’t even like walking around here alone.”

  “I don’t either,” Lori agreed. “We have all the same class, so the schedule fits.”

  “Yup, and I’m sorry, but you need to flaunt in front of Harris. Make that little shit want it fucking bad. If you see him talking to another girl, do something. He is not allowed to find any happiness the entire time he’s on this ship.”

  “I’m so sorry about that. I can’t imagine having to see him fuck around right in front of you.”

  “I’m used to it,” Reina said. “I cried, but when it comes down to it, I don’t really care—not like I used to.”

  “He’ll probably never meet another girl that’s as good as you are.”

  “No,” Reina said, “he won’t. He’s in a downward spiral. I’m just glad I have somebody with me to watch.”

  George and their hostess were carrying a food cart down the steps. Another man was walking behind them. He was tall, with a rigid, military posture, and he seemed to be wearing a navel uniform, but it was too dark for Lori to see anything else.

  He stood in the threshold, waiting while George brought their food—covered platters opening up to rice, a seared scallop, salad, and giant lobsters, stripped of their shells. Lori was about to try a sliver of meat when a manicured hand blocked her path with a white card, lined with flourish. “This just came for you, Miss.”

  She took it, chilled by Tim’s persistence. The message was simple: “I love you, Lori. I don’t know how to tell you how much I regret what happened. Please, talk to me.”

  “The request was made just a moment ago,” George announced. “Would you like to send a reply?”

  “Absolutely,” she told him. “You don’t exist. I don’t care about you. I won’t miss you. Nothing can change what you are. Do not contact me again.”

  Without a word, George walked off to relay the message to the crew member, waiting outside. The man listened, nodding as they spoke. He said something, George nodded back, and he took a glance out into the lobby. Lori felt him watching her. She wanted to tell him to piss off. It was her business, and it was painful enough without half the crew gossiping about it behind her back. She probably wasn’t even the first passenger they’d seen get stood up.

  She just hoped they didn’t butt in and start treating her differently; that was a terrifying thought. She didn’t want anyone knowing. Reina was different, cheerful and easy to identify with, and she clearly knew not to bring added attention to the situation. The crew wouldn’t. There would be little gestures, people listening—all overly helpful and sympathetic, when all they really cared about was the show she was putting on.

  What was it? What was so interesting that he had to stand there, staring at her? It made Lori sick. “Jesus,” she tore he
rself away and drank the rest of her wine. “Let’s get these to go.”

  “You really want to?” Reina groaned.

  “Let’s eat under the stars—get some fresh air. There’s a seating area on the top deck.”

  “Ooh, that is a good idea.”

  Lori looked up to see that the man had gone, and George was already headed towards their table, having sensed that they wanted something. He was quiet, somewhat disappointed, and there was something behind his tone, like he wanted to say something. He started to when he brought back their boxes, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Lori cut him off and thanked him. It was obvious by the nod he gave her that he got the hint.

  10

  “Come on. You can do it.” Reina shouted over the sound of the water and the wind, an assault of icy needles. Lori had taken shelter on a lounge chair a safe thirty feet away.

  “I will not. I’m not coming any closer.”

  “You have to, though. You can’t just tell somebody about that kind of phobia and not—please.”

  “It’s too cold.” Lori said, sheltered behind the railing of the stairs leading below deck.

  “It’s not that bad. I’m not even wearing long sleeves.”

  “My skin is so dry it’s going to flake off,” she countered.

  “You’re making excuses.” Reina’s body was the sole piece of darkness, set against a creamy landscape, where it seemed as though every star in the sky had travelled just a little bit closer, so the pair could watch them that night.

  “I’m comfortable, and I haven’t touched my lobster. Lori had her carryout box sitting on a little table beside her, next to a fresh bottle of wine, which apparently, they could take to designated areas on the ship. “You know,” she opened her box and unwrapped a plastic fork. “This is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed myself since I got here.”

  “Me too,” Reina said, taking the chair beside her. “Things will be better now.”

  Lori passed her a box and filled their plastic goblets. “I think you’re right. And now that Tim’s made his grand gesture—a phone call to international waters—I won’t have to worry about him doing anything else.”

  “Are you sure? He sounded so genuine, like he really wanted to patch things up.”

  “That’s Tim. He’s very convincing.”

  “Ooh, I hate that,” Reina said.

  “It’s par for the course with me. They’re fucking slick, and I hate it. Makes me want to just give up altogether.”

  “I talk about it, but honestly, love is sacred. If you give up, you’ll regret it; if you don’t, it’s because you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “Well, it’s different for me. I’m secure, no matter what.”

  “But are you?” Reina asked her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine on my own.”

  “Don’t you ever feel like you want to turn to somebody and tell them your thoughts—or go out on your own and wish you had somebody there to share the experience with.”

  “I guess. But isn’t that what friends are for?”

  “Friends come and go,” Reina said, “and I want children. It’s something that I’ve wanted for a long time. To go without that—to miss so much. I couldn’t live that way.”

  “Yeah,” Lori turned her attention to her food and her drink. They spent a quiet few hours out there, talking about their lives. Reina lived in Mayville, a few hours north of Seaport, where Lori lived.

  She was saving to buy a house in the city, and she had everything planned out. Her budget was carefully tailored, calculated to the cent. Her bills, her credit cards, and car loans were all setup to maximize her credit score. She knew, down to the month, when she would have enough to move to the city that Lori already lived in and hated. It would be different for her.

  She was enormously disciplined and intelligent, something that Lori recognized immediately. Most people wouldn’t. She was playful, sometimes fussy, and her tiny features—her adorable pixie nose and freckles, all masked the beauty beneath.

  Those contradictory elements intrigued Lori. She liked that people couldn’t see Reina coming. They underestimated her, which meant she had plenty of opportunities to surprise others and prove herself to them. She seemed to have a lot of fun doing it.

  Nursing school, she said, was her time to prove everyone wrong. She said that they didn’t think she would make it. People treated her like she was dumb; they made exceptions, laughed at her, mocked her—but when she graduated that all faded away. She was proud of her accomplishment.

  Lori wished that she could say the same. Reina was younger, not by much, but young enough to make her feel stunted when compared to her own pathetic existence. She had no career, no job; she’d spent the majority of her adult life wandering from one slave ship to the next—always working harder, always strive for more—to be her best self; the restaurant owner, the elegant queen of the lobby, with a stable home, a job she didn’t have to worry about losing, a home that didn’t belong to someone else. But she never even came close to progressing.

  She lost all of her jobs, either through layoff or closure. Every time she did, she told herself that it was an opportunity. She’d make something of herself. She’d find a better restaurant to work at, where she could cook and express her creativity.

  She’d hold out, apply at all the best places and wait as long as she could. Then, when things got close, she’d find the nearest diner and get stuck in the same situation again. The work was too overwhelming. She didn’t have the strength or the time to go applying around, not when she could barely walk from the sores on her feet, and her calves felt they were going to spontaneously combust from the friction of moving—darting here and there, following orders.

  Reina, Lori suspected, was more capable. She had something that Lori didn’t, and she wanted to know what it was, so she could get herself out of this rut and live like a real adult, not some party girl in her early twenties.

  That’s why, when she woke up at the next morning, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, calling Reina’s room. “Hello,” Reina answered in a voice so tired, Lori almost felt guilty for calling.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she sighed, “it’s fine. I’m glad you called. I don’t want to miss yoga.” She said that last bit with an audible smile.

  “Me neither.” Lori stood up and looked around the room.

  “Do you have yoga pants?”

  “No, why?” Lori asked.

  “I’ll let you borrow a pair. Put your hair down, mess it up a little bit. I’ll head over there as soon as I’m done.” Her knock came when Lori was darting around the room, scrounging for a brush, while she tried to decide what shirt to wear.

  “Just a second,” she called out, before settling for a loose gray cut-off.

  “Hello?” Reina’s voice was so faint Lori could barely catch it. The walls were too thick.

  With a sigh, she pulled on her shirt and walked out to let her in. “Hey.”

  Reina was wearing a pair of black, skin-tight stretch pants and a long-sleeved shirt, made from the same fabric. She was carrying a tote bag. Her eyes fell down Lori’s body as she shook her head. “That won’t work. No makeup?”

  “I didn’t think...”

  “Ugh,” Reina grabbed her arm and pulled her back into her room, where a makeup kit was sitting on the bed. She left her bag at the end of the bed and sat down, pushing the wrinkled comforter aside and started digging through Lori’s makeup kit. “Use that natural lip-gloss you had on last night. That would look amazing.”

  “I just don’t think there’s any reason for me to dress up.”

  “Oh my God.” She wasn’t listening. Her mouth had fallen open, and she was staring at the red nightgown, slung over the bathroom door. “Are those?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those aren’t?”

  “Yes, they’re diamonds.”

  “You’re shitting me,” she hopped up to inspect the dre
ss. “Oh my God,” she was visibly chilled by the way the fabric slipped like air beneath her fingertips. “Tim sent you this?” she asked, as she reached up to pull it off the door.

  “Yes, he’s in finance, which means that his life’s ambition is to be rich.”

  “Oh, he is definitely rich.”

  “Yup. You know he had me convinced that he was living in a shitty apartment to save money.” Lori pulled out her mirror and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “That wasn’t a red flag to you?”

  “Who rents out a fake apartment? I had no idea that was what he was doing. It’s too outlandish.”

  “Do your whole face,” Reina told her, standing just inside the door, her back turned.

  “It’s fine. You can look if you’re careful.”

  “I can’t believe this.” She lunged for the other dresses hanging on the towel rack. “Who designed these? Was it a big name?”

  “I doubt it. Designers like that choose you, not the other way around.” Lori opened her lip gloss and spread it on. “I can’t wear them, not if I want a good price. I have to be careful.”

  “That is such a shame,” Reina said with genuine disappointment. “You really should try them out.”

  “I want them in mint condition.”

  “But you would look so beautiful.” She plucked the white dress off the rack, held it up to her body and twisted around, skirt flying, so Lori could see. It was impressive, even if the color didn’t match; the red of her freckles stood out against the white, and Lori was much taller, but there was no mistaking the simple beauty. “Keep one of them.”

  “I can’t. I have to sell both,” Lori said.

  “Why?”

  “I just do. I have no choice.”

  “Oh, yoga pants. I almost forgot.” She pulled a thin, white wad of fabric out of her tote bag. “Put these on.”

  “They look like pantyhose.”

  “They’re yoga pants. Now trust me. Oh, before I forget. You have to wear red underwear.”

  “Hah!” Lori burst out with a laugh. “You’re a terrible person.”

  “You gonna do it?”

  “I’m not wearing red panties, but—let me see those pants.” She grabbed them away from Reina on her way to the bathroom. The material was thick, so it covered everything, but it still fit to every lump, bone and curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She had the undeniable urge to cover her hips, which persisted when she opened the door.