Once they walked on board the second cruise, Melissa knew that this was the environment for which she had searched.
The entire ship was painted or naturally formed out of a blinding white substance. Neatly-Dressed waitstaff applauded politely as they stepped off the sloping walkway into the main atrium of the ship. Melissa stared upward and saw a ridiculously large glinting chandelier swaying gently to the beat of the water far below. The place was palatial, she found herself thinking. It was almost absurd.
After a quick safety demonstration, which was very similar to the safety demonstration they'd gone through on the first ship, they were ushered straight to their stateroom. Staff had carried their luggage down during the safety demonstration, so they were free to walk around and enjoy the views with their hands free to point at things. Melissa noticed that the doors of the staterooms were magnetic; lots of people had brought magnets along with them to decorate and demarcate their doors.
Perhaps they could get some in the cruises’ gift shop, she thought possibly something baby-themed. She supposed that it was the case that her children were technically going on their first cruise. But then, so was she. Perhaps she’d pick up a Christmas ornament or something to that effect.
Their room was nicer than the nicest hotel room she'd ever been in. She walked in and smelled the fresh linens and looked happily at the television set which had been set to welcome them with a personalized message. She turned just in time to see Rodger performing another exchange of money with his handshake and smiled. Rodger was doing everything he could to make sure that they would be taken care of during their stay, and she loved that.
“So,” said Melissa, immediately flopping herself down on the extremely comfortable bed and shivering at the pleasure,(it was very, very soft and extremely large. “What does the itinerary say is happening today?”
Rodger sat on the bed next to her and looked carefully at the paper which had accompanied their welcome letter. “Well, there’s a cooking demonstration tonight at eight. And we have a reservation in their sunset cafe. And then tomorrow I have one of my first expeditions.”
There was a gladness in his voice as he said this. Melissa smiled.
“Well, we’ll take the afternoon and evening to relax, then.”
Rodger laid down. “How’s your book coming?”
“Slowly,” Melissa said ruefully. “I’m having a hard time coming up with a twist.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Rodger said helpfully.
“I think i just need to stare at a blank piece of paper for a while.”
“Makes sense,” said Rodger.
“Would you like to go explore the ship?”
“Yeah, let’s go do that.”
Melissa packed a bag with her computer and some toiletries and a blanket, you never knew when a blanket would come in handy, and then set off with Rodger to see what the ship had to offer.
There was a huge buffet with every type of food which Melissa could imagine ever wanting to eat—this made her pregnant self very happy; the first trimester had featured long bouts of being unable to eat much, so now she was trying to make up for that as much as she could. There was a pizza station at which they made fresh pizzas to order. Melissa spent a moment watching the chef behind the glass counter whirl a ball of dough in his hands until it became as thin as paper, and then as customers selected various vegetables to put on their pizzas.
“We’ll have to stop by there later,” Melissa said, pointing. Rodger nodded in agreement.
There was a curry station and a nacho station and heaps of fresh seafood; Melissa stopped by one of them just to look at all of the sights and to sniff at all of the beautiful smells before finding herself presented with a popcorn shrimp appetizer, which she munched upon as they continued walking around the decks.
There was an entire deck which was just devoted to an on-board garden—grown entirely with hydroponics, as a passionate staff member informed them while they walked through the strange half-field of lilies and roses. Another deck was devoted to the arts; there were no concerts or shows happening just then, as it was only mid-afternoon, but small plackets on the walls informed them of the different entertainment they could take in later that evening.
“Brillant,” said Rodger. “I’ve always wanted to see The Who!”
“They have The Who here on board with us?” Melissa shook her head. The heights of this luxury had previously been unimagined. Upon further investigation, they found that yes, indeed, The Who were apparently traveling along with them for this week (they would be swapped out for another band later that month).
A Broadway-style theater boasted a schedule of improv events and musical shows. Melissa’s eyes gleamed when she saw that the musical Cats was on the docket. She’d been threatening Rodger to make him sit through it ever since she learned that he'd never seen it. It seemed like this second cruise would offer them an easy possibility.
When they went down to the next deck, they saw that it was just an entire mall floor, complete with a food court. They weren't so much interested in that.
At this point, they realized that they'd missed the top deck. As they had the option to take an elevator up to the 'ceiling' of the boat, they did; their feet were quickly becoming very tired. And this was when they gasped again, for quite a different reason than they'd gasped the first time.
The wide blue sky above them sprawled out as far as the eye could see; indeed, Melissa thought that she’d have to have two heads in order to see it all properly. There were a series of cocktail tables and bright-white lounge chairs as well as a swimming pool in the shape of a clam-shell. So Rodger said, “If you wanted to swim with an ocean view, now would be your chance.”
Melissa thought of the white bikinis, excellent for showing off her deeply brown skin, nestled in her suitcase. She'd bought them from a pregnancy store marketed towards millennials like herself. She was a bit leery of putting her bump on display like that, but as she looked at the swimming pool she realized that she wanted nothing more than to spend hours just lazing in the beautiful scene before her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” said Melissa softly.
“Just like you,” Rodger said teasingly.
She batted his arm away, and then leaned into him. It was very pleasant being there with Rodger, she had to admit.
An hour later she was by the same pool, wearing one of her white bikinis under a light gauzy cover-up, typing away happily at her novel. She had hit a bit of a power streak and was typing away as fast as she could to make the most progress while she still had energy to do so. As she typed, the deck around her began to fill up. No children, as this was an adults only cruise, but many couples were beginning to populate the deck chairs.
Melissa took a break from writing every so often to people-watch, which she had a lovely time doing.
After one of her breaks, another young woman came up to her table.
“Hello,” she said, apropos of nothing.
“Hi,” said Melissa.
“May I?” The strange woman gestured to the chair opposite Melissa. Out of politeness, Melissa said yes, and she shut her laptop, trying to remind her future self to remember which thought she'd been chasing at the time.
“I’m Evelyn,” said the woman. She smiled and placed her hands on her round belly. Ah, thought Melissa. This was pregnancy camaraderie. But she chose to say nothing, because everyone knew that well-bred people didn't assume pregnancy in anyone. As the saying went, one didn’t ask a woman whether she was pregnant or not unless one could see the baby physically coming out of her; and, then, the question would be so thoroughly answered as to be completely pointless anyway.
The woman leaned in conspiratorially. “Are you pregnant?”
Melissa tried very hard not to roll her eyes and compromised by doing so internally.
“A bit,” she said, before smiling and taking a sip of her ginger lemonade.
“How is one a bit pregnant?” Evelyn laughed. Her hair wa
s done up in curls and she had a kerchief tied around her neck. Melissa thought, on the whole, that this was not the most diplomatic of questions, either. What if she'd had a reason to be coy about her response?
She decided to stop being difficult. “I’m about four months along,” she said. “You?”
Her rudeness here was clearly excused in the context of the situation, Melissa thought. There was no way that Evelyn wasn't pregnant, given how she was acting.
“About four as well,” Evelyn said, gushing, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! What fun. We can talk all about our symptoms and plans over the next month!”
Melissa’s eyebrows shot up so far as to mesh with her hairline. She didn’t want to talk with this woman about something so private as her pregnancy. She also wasn’t sure of precisely what her plans were, and so she didn’t feel like she wanted to have to defend them.
“First things first. Are you planning on breastfeeding?” Evelyn was leaning over the table, her hands an inch away from Melissa’s. Melissa noted Evelyn’s even, sparkling manicure. Her own nails were rough. She'd noted that there was a spa on one of the decks of the ship; she made a mental note to go find it after this encounter was done and get those fixed up. She realized that she could use a trumped-up appointment at the spa to get out of this conversation, if she needed to. And it appeared that she would very much need to.
“Um.” This was the first thing that she said. In truth, she wasn’t planning on breastfeeding, for personal and medical reasons, but she knew that that would only light a fire in what she suspected to be a very militant Evelyn’s eyes.
“So, no, but for medical reasons,” Melissa said, deciding on the spot not to lie, but also to drop the word ‘personal’ from her story. She didn’t need to fuel the fire.
“Oh, but it’s so much better for your child. I’d never think of doing anything but breastfeeding my baby girl,” said Evelyn, looking at Melissa in horror.
This was what made Melissa a bit peeved. Yes, it was common knowledge that breastfeeding was very good for the baby, but—if you looked at the research, which Melissa had, in detail—babies who were formula-fed did rather well in life as well. There was no scientifically proven and indicated reasons why breastfeeding was conclusively better, and, as one of Melissa’s friends had said, ultimately, “fed is best”.
“Oh?” Melissa tried to change the subject. “Are you having any interesting cravings?”
But Evelyn didn't wish to change the subject, apparently and after some fifteen minutes of trying very hard not to discuss her own medical history and personal ethic with this relative stranger, Melissa decided to head down to the spa. She got up from the table, bidding Evelyn a good day, and rather hoped as she walked away that she'd sufficiently shocked Evelyn with her untoward views on childrearing that Evelyn wouldn't consider her a good companion for the rest of the trip.
She walked down to the spa. It had started as merely a way to get Evelyn off her back, but the more she thought about it, the more Melissa thought that it might be nice to get her nails taken care of. When she walked into the spa, she was stunned once again at the attention to detail she saw inside. There were rocks and softly swaying plants and, while the hall in the room had been put together seemingly from tiles, the floor in here was of a gently creaking hardwood, evoking old-world senses of charm and luxury.
Melissa breathed it all in. There was an essential oil diffuser somewhere, she could tell.
A young woman in scrubs—Melissa laughed inwardly at this; were they trying to add an air of medial authenticity to the proceedings?—came to the front desk and beckoned her forward.
“Hi! How are you doing today?” Her voice was calm and measured.
“I’m doing wonderful. I was wondering if I could book a manicure when you guys have time,” Melissa said.
“We have time now. All services are complimentary and we're overjoyed to be able to help you. I’m Amanda and I can help you right now if you’d like.”
Melissa smiled and nodded then followed Amanda to the back of the room where a manicure station was waiting.
“What color were you thinking of today,” said Amanda.
“Oh! Possibly just—a light pinky color, or a grey neutral. Nothing fancy, I’d just like my hands to look a bit nicer than they do,” said Melissa self-consciously.
“Ah! Okay, we can get started on that.” After the esthetician had put her hands to soak in some warm, scented water, she looked up at Melissa coyly. “Any reason why you want your hands to look good?”
Melissa thought about it. “I feel like it’ll just make me feel more put together, honestly.”
Amanda laughed. “Oh, okay, I was just wondering. We get a lot of proposals on these cruises, and right before the end of the cruise we get a lot of requests for manicures.”
Melissa laughed. “Oh, okay then. That makes sense. But no, my partner and I aren’t getting engaged anytime soon.”
Amanda smiled and then went back to carefully painting Melissa’s fingernails the lightest shade of pale pink.
After this was done, Melissa went upstairs, being very careful of her hands, and went to find Rodger. He was in their room taking a nap. She laid next to him, set her alarm for an hour, they had just enough time for that much more of a sleep prior to dinner she thought, and let her eyes drift closed as well.
The next thing she knew, Rodger was gently pushing her over to wake her up.
The drifting motion of the ship had been so relaxing that Melissa now felt as if she were completely re-energized for their evening.
“Dinner in a bit?”
“Yeah,” said Rodger sleepily, and he yawned.
Melissa smiled and went to go put something on that was a bit nicer for their dinner. The cruise ship had two excellent restaurants on board, and Rodger had made them reservations at the most formal and fancy of them: a French restaurant called La Roux.
As they went down to it, they noticed that the lights gradually dimmed and were replaced with candles that flickered as they passed. A waiter with an extravagant mustache greeted them at the door by name, and they walked inside. They were presented with menus and an amuse-bouche which consisted of a scoop of mint sorbet with raspberry leaves.
They were seated in a corner booth with a heavy velvet curtain drawn partially over it. There were very few other people in the restaurant.
“They only take a few reservations each night,” said Rodger conspiratorially, “So that each of their patrons feels as if they’re special, that they’re the only ones.”
“Seems like a solid business plan,” said Melissa.
“It features a tasting menu, if that’s all right,” said Rodger.
Melissa smiled and kissed him. She was quite caught up in the romance and decadence of the day. It seemed like the perfect start to a month of chilling out.
“Sounds lovely,” she said.
It seemed that the menu of La Roux that evening featured a series of seafood vignettes, as they were called—none of them being large enough to be considered an entree, but there were very many of them, so they ate enough to consider themselves completely full. There were shrimp in cold and fried and minced form; there was tuna in a niçoise salad as well as seared on the outside but left completely raw in the middle. Melissa, who was not usually a fan of sushi, decided that she liked the ahi, much to her surprise; but her favorite by far was the garlic skin-on sautéed salmon, which was crispy and flaky and delightful, and paired with new asparagus which was roasted until it was almost as crispy as the fish beside it. There was also a strange sort of fish mousse which Melissa refused to touch, but Rodger said was extremely light and airy.
After their wonderful (and very long; for La Roux believed that dining should be French in all of the ways, including duration) dinner, Melissa and Rodger set off for a stroll along the upper deck. The sky was entirely pink, with a vivid orange splotch along one side where the sun had just set. The colors were so vibrant that they still lighted up their face
s.
“I think that I could stay here forever. On this ship, eating this food, living this life,” said Rodger.
“You could,” said Melissa. “You could buy the ship. Become a cruise director.”
“I could at that,” said Rodger, sounding slightly surprised and mildly interested. Melissa wondered what it would be like to be able to actually consider such things. Even though Rodger had made it clear that she was to consider all he had as hers, she'd never allowed herself to mentally go there.
She hoped she wouldn’t have to anytime soon because occurred to her that she could stand there with Rodger forever as well.
Chapter 11
It was two weeks later. The days had begun to roll together. There was a similarity to each of their days that was pleasing and comforting; a kind of insurance-type of feeling, a safeguard against the craziness which each of them knew was to come.
Because each of them knew: once they had their children, especially now that they knew that it was twins, with precisely twice the expected amount of insanity, nothing in their current lives would be the same. Melissa was used to a very quiet life of books and words and papers and computer screens. She woke up when she pleased (although, she noted, when she pleased was very dependent upon when she had to go to work) and dined when she pleased and went out without thinking what she was leaving at home. She knew that once the babies came, any idea of her waking up just so that she had to go to another place to be with adults and perform the activities which she loved and for which she was also paid would itself seem like a luxury.
True, due to the circumstances of the father of her children, she’d never have to work again and she knew that that would be seen as a luxury by most. Of course, she saw it as a luxury as well. But she was also having twins; and most about what that would entail terrified her more than she would ever have admitted to Rodger or anyone else who cared to ask her.
Rodger knew, too, that everything would soon be different.
Be My Bride and Have My Baby Page 11