by Nancy Warren
After a moment, a man’s shoes appeared in her vision. They were black and had rubber soles, presumably for walking on a ship’s deck. “Who called for a doctor?”
Toni glanced up, relief making her almost dizzy, to find a white-haired man wearing an officer’s uniform above the black shoes, looking down at her through thick glasses. He was carrying a black medical bag. It reminded Toni oddly of the plastic one Tiffany used to play with when she was a kid.
“You’re the doctor?” He looked awfully old to be practicing medicine.
“Doctor Madsen.”
“Here, Doctor,” Tiffany said urgently and the doctor took her place kneeling beside Linda.
He seemed to take ages locating his stethoscope in his bag. Then he took another age to fit the earpieces to his ears. Finally, he bent closer to Linda and listened to her heart. “Good, strong beat,” he said.
He took her pulse. Looked at his watch. He had to bring the watch to about three inches from his eyes to be able to read it. He nodded.
Letting the stethoscope hang around his neck, he pulled a penlight from the bag. Then he lifted one of Linda’s eyelids and shone the light into her eye. He let the eyelid drop again.
“How many drugs has your mother had today?” he asked Toni.
Obnoxious old coot. Her impressive chest swelled with indignation as she said, “My mother is not on drugs.”
When Linda had collapsed, she’d taken her purse down with her and it lay beside her, a scatter of her belongings spilling out. Tiffany picked up what was left of the blister pack of travel medication. Nearly all the pills were gone. She held it out to the doctor, who merely nodded once more. “She overdosed on Dramamine, and mixed it with alcohol. I’ve seen it countless times. Your mother will be fine. She simply needs to sleep it off.”
It took two strong young stewards to hoist Linda back to their stateroom. They laid her down tenderly on one of the beds and Linda groaned, then turned on her side, muttering something.
Okay, not the start to the cruise she’d have imagined, but Toni always liked to look on the bright side. While Linda slept off her Dramamine bender, she and Tiffany could enjoy some quality mother-daughter time. “I think we should start our cruise with a tour of the salon and spa.”
A pained groan met her words. “No. Don’t make me.”
“Honey, it’s right beside the gym. We’ll tour the spa, then we’ll check out the machines and weights. And Grandma can enjoy her nap in private.” In truth, her mama was flat on her back snoring like a stevedore with bad adenoids. She wanted to get her daughter out of the room before she suffered hearing loss.
The pair of them had barely reached the spa, where the heavenly smells of aromatherapy greeted them, along with the almost spiritual hush common to all good spas, when a woman in a brown suit and a brass nameplate pinned to her breast bustled up to them. “Yes, can I help you?” she asked in a singsong voice. Her nametag announced that she was Lorna from Jamaica.
“Yes. We’d like a tour of the spa, please,” Toni said, already checking to see what, if any, cosmetics the spa carried. None that she could see, which was very good news to a woman who hoped to introduce as many of the Duchess cruise passengers as possible to the benefits of Lady Bianca cosmetics.
Naturally, there was an unwritten etiquette about selling products on a cruise ship. Generally, it was frowned upon unless it was one of the sanctioned products or services offered by the cruise ship company itself.
However, a woman didn’t sit in the Lady Bianca platinum circle (and have the ring to prove it) without learning how to talk about her job in a way that left women plenty of opportunity to ask her more. If they didn’t, that was fine. But any interest at all and Toni would be only too willing to bring her bag of Lady Bianca products into their stateroom and offer a free facial and makeup application lesson.
“Certainly.” The woman called over a young woman in a similarly colored brown smock. “Megan will be happy to take you ladies on a tour.”
“Mom, check this out.”
She turned and found her daughter regarding a table setup advertising medi-spa treatments. Go home refreshed, the poster board said. There was a list of treatment options from dermabrasion to injections to erase wrinkles, to fillers and collagen treatments. But what had Tiffany staring was the photograph that went along with the advertising. Dr. Madsen was the specialist. “He can barely see! Imaging letting him near your face with a hypodermic full of poison,” Tiffany whispered before they were joined by their tour guide.
Megan nodded and smiled at them and said, “We offer all the services of a top spa.”
And Toni sighed in bliss. Spas and salons were among her favorite places on earth and she spent a happy half hour breathing in lemongrass and ginseng, poking her nose into vapor steam rooms and testing out the hot stone lounging beds. She learned all about the signature facials, the hot stone pedicures, the rejuvenation body work; she could even get her teeth whitened and her wrinkles plumped without ever leaving the comfort of the ship. She happily accepted a color brochure detailing all the salon services, knowing she’d be back. And soon.
“If you’d like to book now, you’ll avoid the crowd.”
Before Toni could answer, her attention was caught by the sound of moaning. She glanced up to see a woman walking past, her head down, holding an ice pack to her lip. Her upper lip was the approximate size and shape of the starship Enterprise and obviously painful.
“Did Dr. Madsen do that?” Tiffany asked staring after the woman.
A thin smile greeted her words. “That was most likely an allergic reaction. It’s very rare. May I book you in for consultation?”
“Maybe later. I think we’re ready to see the gym.”
Toni had a different relationship with the gym than she did with the salon. Toni looked forward to the spa the way she looked forward to visiting a close friend, to hours sharing girl talk, maybe painting each other’s toenails and watching a chick flick. The gym was more like an acquaintance you never really liked who was going through a hard time and so you felt obliged to visit, even though you knew every minute would be misery.
Her daughter, strangely, felt the exact opposite way about both places. Naturally, Toni was delighted that her daughter enjoyed athletic pursuits and spent time keeping her body in good physical condition. She only wished she shared a little bit of her mother’s pleasure in makeup and facials—who could resist the pedicure with the lemon ginseng salt scrub and hot stone massage? Or the therapeutic and oh, so decadent hydrating facial that promised smoother, plumper, and more lustrous skin.
When they entered the fitness center they were greeted by the ominous sounds of clanking weights. The air was scented with the much less aromatherapeutic smell emanating from a dozen gym rats hard at work. Toni wanted to retreat back to the spa with the soothing sounds of waterfalls and Pan pipes and the scents of lavender and lemon.
The fitness center was well laid out, with rows of treadmills, stationary bikes, and elliptical machines all facing the view out of the enormous windows where the Caribbean sparkled. A young guy, late teens, maybe early twenties, stood in the mat area clearly taking a short break. Sweat pebbled his face and he was breathing heavily.
She’d have paid him no more attention except that beside her she felt the air shift. She glanced at her daughter and caught her staring at him and then looking away with studied nonchalance.
Suddenly, the young guy’s break was over. He bent forward and dropped so his hands rested on a low bench like the kind Toni had used when she used to take a step class, then he hooked his feet over a large green exercise ball so he was in push-up position. From that unlikely pose, he launched into a set of aggressive and very impressive push-ups. Maybe her daughter was pretending not to be interested but Toni couldn’t stop staring. How fit would you have to be to balance your feet on a ball and do push-ups while on a slightly moving ship?
“And we also offer yoga, spin, Zumba classes, and of course a packag
e with our personal trainers,” their tour guide said.
“What’s Zumba?” Toni asked, tearing her gaze away from the young bodybuilder.
“It’s a dance-based workout. It’s really fun. I promise you won’t even know you’re exercising.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ll know it.” But still, dance based had to be good.
“What are the gym hours?” Tiffany asked.
“Six o’clock in the morning until ten at night.”
With a slight thud of athletic shoes hitting the deck, the boy straightened once more. He strode past them, heading deeper into the gym and swaggering past her daughter. “How’s it going?” he asked Tiffany.
She raised both hands and pushed her dark hair behind her ears. “Okay,” she said.
He nodded and moved on.
So much for the mating rituals of the young.
When they arrived back at the reception area and had thanked their guide, Toni suggested that she and her daughter get some green tea and settle in a couple of loungers.
It was nice to sit out on deck enjoying the sunshine and the company of her daughter. They didn’t talk much, but it was an easy silence. She began to think that the three of them coming on this trip was a great idea.
After half an hour or so, she headed back in search of more green tea. But the woman in the brown suit shook her head. “You have to go to your muster station now,” she said. “The safety demonstration begins in a few minutes and you can’t miss it. Go to your staterooms, pick up your life jackets, and proceed to your muster station.”
“Where is our muster station?”
The woman checked Toni’s cruise card and told her to report to the Duchess Theater five floors below.
When they arrived back at their stateroom, they found Linda groggy but awake.
“How are you feeling, Mama?”
“Like I’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”
“We need to take our lifejackets and go to the theater for a safety demonstration.”
Linda sat up, looking leery. “What kind of safety demonstration? Isn’t it safe on a cruise ship?”
“Of course it is,” she hastened to reassure her mother before she could pop any more pills. “But we will be at sea. This is merely a safety precaution.”
They gathered up the three red lifejackets from the top shelf of the closet. Linda pulled open the small fridge in their stateroom, found one of the bottles of water, upended it, and drained it dry. “Okay, let me fix my hair and makeup and I’ll be ready.” Since Linda was wearing one of her many fake hairpieces, and it had become slightly dislodged by her nap, Toni suspected they’d be waiting for a while.
Luckily, the ship personnel were obviously well accustomed to their patrons taking a little extra time to get ready. At every turn down the stairs they encountered a crew member wearing a life vest identical to the ones the women carried, a bright green ball cap, and a determined smile, as they checked cards and ushered them toward their muster station.
The emergency meeting place for Toni’s suite was the Duchess Theater, where events from Broadway-style musicals to comedy shows to afternoon movies would appear for their entertainment. “My gosh,” Linda said as they entered the theater, gazing around her. “This theater’s almost as big as the Grand Ole Opry.”
That was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was indeed a large theater, built on two levels. It probably seated a thousand people. The décor was rich with red upholstery, polished wooden rails, and mirrored walls etched with the Duchess logo. They were directed into rows by uniformed crew, as though they were cars being parked. Then they settled, each holding her life jacket like a stuffed animal on her lap.
They probably waited ten more minutes for the rest of the passengers to arrive at their muster station. They were every age, every color, most in colorful garb and all determined to have a good time.
A man wearing an officer’s uniform took the stage, wearing his life jacket. “Welcome aboard, ladies and gentlemen,” he began. Then he explained how important safety was to the company and the crew, calling it their top priority, which Toni was very relieved to hear. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if she got on a ship and they said, Good afternoon, we take your safety pretty lightly. Let’s face it, there are thousands of passengers on board. Who’d really miss a couple of you?
“We will now demonstrate how to put on the life jacket.” Various crew members moved to the aisles, all of them already wearing their life jackets. They mimed putting the jackets on, indicated how the straps could be tightened, showed where the whistle was and pointed to the light that would illuminate “should you enter the water.”
Beside her, Linda’s chin dropped closer to her chest and soon her mother was once more napping. Toni didn’t think she was missing anything too important, so she let her sleep. The man at the front described the evacuation procedure, which was basically not to panic and to do what the crew told you. To grab your life jacket and not to abandon ship until given the order to do so.
“Don’t worry,” she mumbled.
“And now, should you ever hear seven short blasts followed by one long blast of the whistle, that is the call to the emergency muster stations. If you hear this whistle, do not panic. Get your life jacket and come back here. You will now hear the emergency signal.”
While they sat there in the comfort of a two-level theater, soft in their upholstered seats, seven short whistle blasts sounded.
“What’s that?” Linda asked, jerking awake.
“The emergency whistle,” the woman on her other side informed her.
“Oh, my God,” Linda screamed and grabbed at her life jacket, unclipping the strap, which was stubborn and didn’t want to unclip.
“It’s just a drill, Mama,” Toni said. “Not for real.”
“Well, thank heaven for that. I can’t even get the buckle undone.”
She grew even more distressed as the crew explained how to hold down the jacket with one hand while pinching the nose and covering the mouth with the other. “Then don’t jump in the water,” they were told. “Simply step forward.”
“Are they out of their minds? Step forward off the side of this ship? Have you seen how tall this ship is? It would be like stepping off Mars.”
The drill ended with an offer that if anyone wanted to practice putting on their life jackets, the crew would help them.
Linda’s life jacket was a bit of a mess so Toni said, “Let’s try getting that on you, Mama, so we know it works.”
Linda had managed to get the clip undone. Now she pulled the two front pieces apart, and Toni heard the rip of Velcro, then she pulled it gingerly over her hair. She’d gone with one of her elaborate Dolly-Parton-is-my-hero hairpieces this morning, so platinum ringlets danced and fought as she did a kind of Mambo, twisting her head one way and the life jacket the other, until it was over her head. At last, they had her head in and as Toni pulled the straps tight around her mother’s body, she pushed the clip pieces together. Now she knew why the crew demonstrated how to put on a life jacket while already wearing one. It was not easy to get these things on.
As the buckle clicked home, her mom yelled, “Ow.”
A uniformed crew member, clearly seeing a real emergency, stepped forward to help.
“This jacket is so small an anorexic toothpick wouldn’t fit inside,” she gasped, fighting for breath.
“Here, madam, let me help you.” The young man was in his mid-thirties probably and had the kind of ethnicity that could be a mix of a hundred histories. He was gorgeous, with high cheekbones, big brown eyes, white teeth, and dark curly hair.
“Thank you,” Linda wheezed, gazing into his beautiful face. “These things are not designed for a well-endowed woman.” Not that she really had to tell him that. Her breasts had been flattened by the life jacket and with nowhere to go but up, they spilled from the top of the red life jacket like refugees from a boob prison.
Toni really, really hoped they didn’t have to don
one of those things and abandon ship.
Linda flapped her arms. “Get me out of this thing.” She was part panicked, part still high on Dramamine and cocktails, and part enjoying the attentions of the young, handsome steward.
As he unclipped her, he tried to ease the life jacket over her head while she pulled and yanked her head out. Toni had no idea how it happened, but next came a yowl of pure pain. “My hair. Oh, ow, my head.”
The young man, probably thinking she was having some kind of medical emergency, abandoned all attempts to ease the jacket off her. He dragged the jacket off the screaming Linda, and to Toni’s horror, as he pulled, a couple of the platinum ringlets caught in the Velcro. The life vest came off, taking Linda’s hair piece with it. About fifteen wayward platinum sausage curls trailed from the red jacket.
She had no idea how many years of training the poor guy had, but he took one look at the head of hair hanging suspended from the jacket and, with a cry of horror, flung the jacket away, so it flew through the air.
Linda, meanwhile, was grasping at her head, clutching the front part of her hairdo, which still looked perfect thanks to about half a can of hairspray and careful backcombing, but the back end of her head looked as though she’d stuck her entire head into an electrical socket.
The disembodied hairpiece, meanwhile, hanging out of the life jacket like a guillotine victim, sailed across the aisle and into the next row. It landed in a woman’s lap and she screamed. “Oh my God, it’s alive. Kill it!”
There were approximately a thousand people in the theater, all of whom had spent the last half hour discussing emergencies; they were collectively a little on edge.
At the woman’s scream, a huge man with tattooed arms and a buzz cut grabbed the life-belted hairpiece, threw it to the floor, jumped up, and stomped on it with thick black leather boots. Then, making sure of his kill, he ground the hair under his heel.
For the second time that day, Linda Plotnik made a sound like a moan and fell to the ground.
Chapter Three
Whenever I feel like exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes.