“Say something to him.”
“That’s what her wants,” Lori snapped. “He wants me to get so infuriated that I have no other choice than to confront him—like I had one anyway. And if you mention his name any more—ah,” she cut off Reina, who was about to speak, “I will never speak to you again.”
“This is dumb. Just go tell him to stop.”
“No, I was his wife. I think I know what I’m doing. Now, please—I guess, call room service—get a storage space. Thank the cleaning ladies, and yes—you can look through the dresses. Just give me an hour or so to sleep it off.”
“Can I run up Tim’s card?” Reina asked.
“Of course, and you don’t even have to walk around the ship to do it.” Lori ducked inside her room. She was weak, head pulsing with a numbing flash. She clutched her forehead and stood at the foot of the bed. The world seemed to buzz around her.
“Did you sleep?”
“I’m going to right now.” She gave Reina the tablet and locked herself in her room, while Reina did her thing. When she walked out on Cade, the second she turned away, the afterimage of his face stuck—the shape did it; the bump on his nose, where it ridged; his lips and brow, both straights lines; his head, a shaven globe, and his eyes—they were two granite pebbles, unmoving and shattered, flinging false blame and artificial guilt—calculated to elicit the perfect response. He had made his imprint, just like he wanted. That vision followed her back to her room like an apparition, and it never left.
If she was blind, she could still trace lines in the sheets, matching the shape of his lips, his neck—every part of him, because she memorized it. She let him support her and reassure her. There was never any doubt in her naive, young mind that Cade—the man that never did wrong—would remain loyal, and he took advantage of that trust.
16
The knock pierced through the haze and sent Lori upright in bed. “Reina?”
“No, I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Parker. I’ll just leave this here for you.”
Lori was on her feet, ripping a robe off the back of her door. She pulled it on and burst out, fists in boxer formation. “How many times do I...?”
George was pushing a food cart through the empty living area. Everything was back to basic standards. The boxes were gone, save for a few in the corner, where the dress rack had been pushed against the wall. She could finally move again.
George pulled a foldout table off a hook on the side of the cart and motioned for her to sit down on the sofa, next to where he placed it. She followed along, sat and crossed her legs, while he made a show of placing the platters in front of her and uncovering them.
“Belgian waffles, strawberries and cream, and a goat cheese, spinach omelet. Anything to drink?” he ducked down to open a cooler on the bottom shelf.
“I’m not taking any of it.”
“Miss Parker,” he stood, holding a water bottle, which she passed to her. She looked have him a smug look, and he kept it there for her to take. “There’s no obligation.”
“Bullshit.” She let him hold it there.
“You don’t even have to see him.”
“I don’t want to.”
“And if you’d like, we can have you taken home when we make port.”
“I would prefer that, thank you.”
“But...he means well. He doesn’t have any ill will towards you. He just—over the years, he’s talked a lot about his ex-wife...and it just didn’t sound like two people could be more in love. To lose that so suddenly and without warning. I...I won’t apologize for being biased.”
“No.”
George nodded his head and began pushing the cart out. Before he reached the door, he stopped, opened it and ducked his head into the hall. “You can bring them in now.”
“The fuck you can. All I want is some peace and quiet. Lori went over to push him outside, but she thought better of it when she saw the look George gave her, like her hands were covered in mud.
“We’re under orders,” a bellhop passed her carrying a vase—gold and white porcelain, among a sea of others. Cade must’ve ordered the entire crew to grab one, push past her and leave it inside. She watched, powerless as they lined the wall closest to her. They then began to form another row and then another, until there was no space to walk except the five feet from her room to the hall. Her food was on the coffee table in the middle.
“Go get that,” she ordered George, who was holding a clipboard, checking things off. He ignored her. “So I’m just supposed to put up with this the whole time?”
“I follow orders, not because I’m paid, but because I’m loyal. I think you understand.” He finished with his clipboard and led the bellhops off. She almost chased after them to see how many she could take before Cade just finally lost patience and forced her to come up there to see him.
“Tell him he can wait!”
She turned to shut the door, and a hand shot out to hold it open. She could sense the boy behind her, carrying another gift of course. He tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a white envelope.
The second she took it, he was running. “Get!”
He was fast, but she stayed as close as she could behind him screaming, “No more!”
She stopped when he ducked into a double door marked, ‘Crew Members Only.’ Whatever was inside this envelope was written specifically to infuriate her. She wasn’t going to open it, not at first, but she needed to see what he wanted.
Having given up on chasing the bellhop, she took it back to the living area and started kicking vases aside to get to her food, which was already starting to get cold. It was edible, though; the omelet was divine, just like she used to make for him. It felt like the home she thought she had.
That’s what got to her. She didn’t like remembering the practical things that made up those days. It made them seem real, and it reminded her that they weren’t. When he was betraying her both physically and emotionally, she was waking up, her breath gone, after dreaming about a three-hundred-foot tower of water condensing his body to a flattened cut of meat. He would spend days, even weeks, pretending to be out fishing, knowing that she was unraveling from worry, because she convinced herself he was dead.
Thinking about him even touching somebody else—and letting her go through that—then to come home and hold her and comfort her because he was gone for so long—it was inhuman.
They’d feast and retreat to bed, where they huddled together for hours under their blanket fort. That was their temple, blessed with lovemaking and a liturgy of pillow talk. Sometimes they’d wait out storms under that fort, coiled around one another, naked and satisfied, leaving only to feast again.
Only a monster could lie that well about something so intimate. There was no part of her life that didn’t revolve around him, and there were times when she couldn’t bear his absence, when her world became hell. He knew that.
She’d felt rejection, humiliation, grief and heartache—but that pain; when she smelled the perfume on his collar and the booze on his breath, she felt like she was going to die. She almost did.
He was her first, her last, her everything—more perfect than perfect—the kindest, sweetest, most honorable man that she had ever met, and she thought she could rely on him. Then, when she needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone, he stopped coming home, and when he did, he’d come late without an explanation. She remembered the first time she looked him in the eye and asked him what he was really doing.
He couldn’t even admit to it. She didn’t have the courage to argue. What they had was too perfect. Even mentioning a problem was so terrible; it was almost like committing a sin, so she left without saying a word, and he thought he could keep up the lie.
He said that she was the only one, and back then, she would have believed him. She was so caught up in the force of her hormones, attached and lovestruck; lightning flashed every time they touched.
She hated herself for feeling that way. It made her sick. She couldn�
�t even eat. What few bites she did take started to go sour when she thought about Cade. She sat back, pushed her plate aside, and opened the envelope.
There were two sheets of paper, both with something printed on them. She didn’t know what until she flipped she first one around and dropped the whole thing. The face was blurred behind an uncontrollable wave of tears, but she knew it.
She used to pull it out and study it when Cade was gone on his fishing trips. In that face, she saw her true life’s purpose, the fruition of a perfect marriage, and the glue that would keep him at home.
The restaurant was her dream, but that round face with his gray pebble eyes, her round cheeks, full lips—that was supposed to be their child, and she knew that, not because she had seen the sketch before, but because she loved that man so much, she spent months, wondering what their child would look like. It was a spear to the side. It had her hunched over, bawling and trembling, fists balled.
“ARGH!” her head flew back and it was like all of the pain she’d felt, every cut, every scratch, every moment of rejection and betrayal—erupted out of her mouth with the force of a true storm—the kind that could drown a metropolis—wipe out New York, Tokyo, and Chicago, tear down the seven wonders, and keep moving, destroying the whole of the Earth.
No man mattered, but this mattered, and he knew that. He knew that she’d stand up and kick every single vase she saw—that she’d scream and shriek, almost to the point where her voice was hoarse, and that when she was done, she would grab the shredded remnants of those composite sketch and walk out to confront him.
17
“They don’t work,” he said, snatching on oyster out of the bucket.
Lori shucked hers and threw the shell in the trash with the rest. “Maybe you’re right, but it’s one of many possibilities.”
“Their process has absolutely nothing to do with genetics. They don’t know what will mix into what.”
“You’re afraid,” Lori told him.
“No, I’m not. I’m excited about the mystery.”
“You know I don’t like mystery.”
“There’s no telling what they’ll look like until they’re here.” Cade stood up, walked around the table and knelt down to rest his hand on Lori’s stomach. “I think we should learn to embrace the unknown. We can’t control how they’ll turn out, but we can learn to love the experience. That way, we won’t be disappointed.”
There were things that Lori could look aside from—things that would’ve destroyed anyone else: cheating, betrayal, losing her job, her place. She was used to the worst, but when she lost Cade, she lost hope. That was unbearable. Hope was the belief that even if she was working for minimum wage and living in a one-bedroom apartment, things could get better. She could climb out of whatever hell her life had turned into and become something more.
She tried after he left, but jobs were scarce, the economy was bad; nobody wanted to hire a divorcee with no work experience. The only people that would take her were collections agencies and fast food, so that’s how she started.
It wasn’t the kind of life that somebody could climb out of, though. Half the time, her check covered rent and nothing else. She had to steal from the kitchen to eat, take the bus to save on gas. Then her car died, and she couldn’t pay to fix it, and she was stuck in the city, wherever the buses went.
There were no resorts or fine dining restaurants on the bus route, just call centers and fast food. There was nothing she could do about it, except from one job to the next, hoping that things would be different.
That is what Cade did, and that was why she was storming through the ship, a goddess of thunder and righteous fury. She felt like she could throw a wall of water, just with the force of her will.
The wind, a constant force streaming in through open walkways slammed her in the face, sending her curls streaming behind her as she took long, deliberate strides towards the lift.
People stared and some whispered, when they saw her pull out the key to the captain’s quarters. “See, told you he’s getting some,” a passing man whispered, and she looked at him like a lion ready to pounce on an antelope. He quickened his pace when he saw her, fast enough that she couldn’t get to him before the doors opened and it was time to get in.
She crossed her arms when she started moving, hoping to rid herself of the rush that came as she twisted through the shaft. There a black semi-sphere attached to the ceiling, housing a camera inside. He was watching, and he was ready. She stared the camera dead on and let the shredded picture flutter to the ground.
The lift stopped shortly after, earlier than it did before. She set her lips in a straight line and waited, fists clenched. The second the doors slid open, she came running out. She was going to crush his testicles, and if she was lucky, his head.
The room she entered was a square surrounded by tinted glass. It was empty, save for a single white rose in the middle. She marched up, ripped the petals off and opened the note attached to it, “I love you. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He was refusing to see her until she calmed down. She went to kick the window, and drew her foot back, cradling her toes. They were meant to withstand a hell of a lot more than the fury of one scorned woman.
She couldn’t move the waves or topple him overboard. She couldn’t leave, and he was just going to get worse. He won. She was going to have to see him, and in his time, but she wasn’t going to let him woo her.
She took the elevator to Reina’s deck and found her room. When she knocked, there was a sound, like a cat being beaten, and something crashed. “If that’s you, I got a frying pan. You’d better just walk away.”
“Is Harris giving you trouble?” Lori called through the door.
Reina ripped it open. “Oh, my God. You have no idea. I told the yoga teacher what happened, and she announced it in class. Now he’s pretending to be sorry, because nobody else will get with him.”
“Good,” Lori said.
“Good? It’s been hell. He sent me three flowers this morning—separately, and then he started complaining because it cost him fifty bucks, and that was all the money he had. He thinks I owe him for it. Then he ordered a bunch of food, charged a bottle to my card, and tried to get me to come to his room.”
“He saw what happened at the pool. He was smiling when I left.”
“I want to screw with him,” Reina said, ducking her head out to check around.
“Pretend to invite him to dinner.”
“That makes no sense,” she replied with a shake of her head.
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m supposed to be mad at him for one.”
“Didn’t you say that he’s poor and you have to pay for everything? Tell him that you want him to see how a lady should be treated.”
“I’m not doing it,” Reina said.
“You should. I’ll bet we can get him to cry.”
“You just want me to cock block, and that’s exactly the opposite of what you need.”
“Seriously?” she groaned. “You owe me.”
“And this is how I’m paying you back.”
“A mind fuck from hell. Thanks.”
“You have worked yourself up over nothing. He’s...”
She cut herself off when Lori cocked her head. “My life is my life. I know what I know. It is not acceptable for you—no, don’t even try to act like you didn’t talk to him. That’s bull. You don’t know me like that.”
“I see a suffering man whose dream came true the second you boarded.”
“You don’t know him. He’s convincing. I told you that. Why would you go...? How long have you been speaking with him? You knew— at the banquet, he told you about me, didn’t he?”
“I—
“No, I’m sorry, Reina. That just...you’re good, but you’re misguided. Please stay out of my business.”
She couldn’t stand there, and watch Reina fall apart. She didn’t deserve this; she didn’t know what she was doing, but Lori had to protect he
rself from Cade, and he was using her as a weapon.
Reina would be fine, she decided, and Lori would try to do something about Harris, distract him with fake dinners and propositions. But for now, she needed to think about herself and what she was going to do.
Cade was insidious. Any man that could pretend so convincingly for so long was a cold, calculating monster. She had to do something different, something he wouldn’t expect. Any other time, she’d have shown up, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, ready to brawl; that’s what he was planning for.
Instead, she took out her gold dress, her makeup palette, and worked for hours, contouring her cheeks into the perfect globes, softening her chin, her brow and jawline. She pressed her hair, conditioned and curled it, working with the precision of a master.
Hairs were tweezed, legs shaved. Every part of her was rejuvenated. If Cade was dreaming of her, she was going to show him exactly what he couldn’t have. Then she was going to leave the ship and live her life with the satisfaction of knowing that he took something from her, and now she was taking something away from him.
She finished herself off with a powerful perfume—golden cream—and checked herself in the mirror, pursing her lips. She looked twenty. There wasn’t a single imperfection, and now she was taller, more experienced—skilled in seduction and the ways of the world. He wouldn’t know her when he saw her.
There was a soft, courteous knock at exactly six. She knew it was six, because she had her phone sitting on the bathroom vanity. She took another moment to fix her hair and stepped out to answer. “For you, Mrs. Parker.”
George was holding out a thin chain of interconnected diamonds, resting on a black velvet cushion. “For me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he smiled, “it’s for you.”
“You mean I can keep it?”
“You can keep everything you are given,” he said, meeting her eyes, “and there is no obligation.”
“You say that because you don’t know how he works.”
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 32