“She doesn’t make life easy”.
“If it was too easy, we might start worrying about when it’ll all go wrong. Think of her as just your daily dose of cynicism”.
“Hey, that’s my mother you’re referring to”, she replied in a somewhat serious manner, before bursting into laughter, “I can’t, I honestly can’t. She’s vile at the best of times, hoping for any more than that would be like asking for a miracle”.
“Ha, remember when I met her for the first time?”
“She hated you”.
“She did, remember how I tried my utmost to get into her good books?”
Christine couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“You were like a child, I could hardly recognise you. The thought of who is this man and what has he done with mine must have popped into my head a dozen times”.
“Hey, I like to make a good impression, cut me some slack”.
“Get out of here, you doing dishes? Wanting to help out with laundry? Sacrificing yourself to help her out on a shopping run? You of all people?”
“I’m a charmer; I like to think I am, my charm won you over didn’t it? I can do all those things”.
“That’s bullshit, Edward and you know it. I’ll give credence to the charmer claim, but I call bull on everything else. I will admit though that it was sweet… even if my mother almost scratched your eyes out to get you to leave her be… which I did warn you about by the way, but I appreciate the effort”.
“She’s a stubborn old mule; I was just doing what I could to show her I was capable of being your husband”.
“Well she was more than capable of doing it herself, she told you that herself. I certainly don’t need you hospitalised, nor do I need you raising my mother’s already high blood pressure, in doing so, raising mine”. She sighed. “Besides, it’s not as though…”
She trailed off, averting her gaze to the view.
“Not as though what?”
“It doesn’t matter”, she replied, standing up, “I’ll get us another round, same thing?”
“Yeah”. Edward watched her make her way over to the bar. He knew all too well what she was going to say; likely some conversation souring remark about his time spent away or the kind. Their marriage was anything but rosy, that could hardly be denied and some might describe it as something akin to a ship skirting the jagged protruding rocks of an ominous island, during a storm.
Thinking about it now, it was difficult to really put a finger on where things started to go awry; when exactly did he start to feel so reserved towards her? When did he become so aloof from his own family? Being with them now made him feel so alien, why? Shouldn’t it be natural for a man to be with his wife? Drinking and enjoying a view like this? Shouldn’t it be natural to start up a regular conversation with his daughter? Why then did he feel so distant from them, like a man reunited with his family after being separated for years?
He knew why, even if the questions he shrouded his mind with served purpose only to deny the answers he already knew. Maybe the question he should have been asking himself was how to now resolve this, at least before the woman he called his wife grew impatient and asked for a divorce and the young girl he called his daughter further ostracised herself from them both. This was his last chance to scrape together some attempt to reunite his family, rebuild bridges that had long since been burned down, no thanks to him.
Maybe his relationship with his wife was not so much a hurdle to jump over as he might think, but there was still the case of his daughter and reeling that fish back in was going to be no easy task, the life she led now was more than he could comprehend and there was no conclusive way to try and earn her trust again without being that awkward father that no daughter wanted. Thinking about it, maybe the awkwardness was what was required to get back into her good books, a short term sacrifice for long term gains.
Running his thumb along the rim of the glass, he thought back to some of the happiest moments of his life, his marriage to Christine in the south of France, followed by the reception at a beautiful country mansion, it was everything she could have ever wanted and more, the birth of his daughter and the unforgettable memory of how fragile she was in his arms, blinking up at him, everything about her so small and vulnerable, soft and pudgy, she was the most incredible and precious little thing he had ever laid eyes upon and she melted his heart right then and there.
His one regret was not having spent more time with her during the latter part of her upbringing; she had spent such a great deal of time away from the two of them that she had formed her own personality without them playing a part in it, so much so that it was difficult to pave a way back into her life without kicking down the door and barging in. The last thing Edward wanted to do was turn his daughter against him, so he had to play this smart, this wasn’t about her life choices, he didn’t believe he had a say in that… at least not yet, but it was about them mending a broken relationship, not just father and daughter, but daughter and parents.
Just then, the sound of the ship’s horns interrupted his thoughts and soon afterwards, Christine returned with an amused smile on her face and drinks in hands. She placed another glass of Marley Brown in front of him and took a sip of her cocktail, a new cocktail.
“What’s got you smiling from ear to ear?”
“The barman, Adam, I think his name is. I was planning to get the same drink, but he suggested this one and the name alone was enough to make me go as red as a beet. I mean honestly, is it really necessary to give drinks such sexually suggestive names? How he could say that with such a straight face is beyond me”.
“What is it?”
“Really? Do you expect me to repeat that filth? I may have my moments, but that’s far too much even for me”. She sat down and took another sip, her face screwing up the same way one would after tasting something sour. “It is strong though. I can’t imagine I’ll be going to bed in a stable mindset tonight, so thank God I don’t have anything but relaxation to think about for tomorrow”.
“We have the ship’s first banquet with the captain tonight, so don’t get too plastered”.
“Look who’s being all responsible all of a sudden, where were you the past… several years?”
“Just saying. Is it good?”
“It’s brilliant; I think I’ve found my new favourite drink”.
“Yeah? Let’s see you ask for one at any bar now”.
Christine laughed.
“I’ll whisper it, or better yet, type it out on my phone and show the bartender”.
“Unconventional, but it gets my approval”.
“Hey, I hear there’s a retro club on board”, she began to jig and sway in her seat, “we can go… two step, get our groove on, shake that tail feather”.
Now Edward was laughing.
“We haven’t done any of that in years; I’d probably snap a hip”.
“Oh, come on, don’t be boring. You’re fine and it’ll be good for us. Let’s dance it off like we did back when we were dating, relive our youth”.
“Okay, you got me, but let’s make sure our daughter and her girlfriend aren’t there as well, I wouldn’t want us to humiliate them… with our extravagant dance moves, yo”.
Christine laughed even harder.
“Did you just say yo? Dear lord. Stop it, that doesn’t suit you in the slightest”.
“Don’t hate because I’m hip and down with the kids”.
“You are the furthest thing from down with the kids, honey”.
The couple laughed merrily, only enjoying themselves and further letting all reservations go as time went on and the drinking continued. The topics transitioned from their relationship and her mother, to their daughter and just about everything else, all whilst maintaining the light-hearted tone of tipsiness.
Eventually they left the bar to dine at a small American style diner, before retreating back to their cabin to nap.
Hours went by and before long, it was seven o’clock and the
banquet had begun. Their table already reserved, with their own waiter for the full extent of the trip awaiting their arrival, they need only dress up formally and arrive.
CHAPTER 8 - RACHEL
7:23pm - 5 Days until outbreak
. . .
. . .
“I don't know what to wear, I've only got like three really nice dresses to my name”, Rachel moaned, rummaging through her luggage.
Her girlfriend chuckled.
“What are you complaining about? That's still two more than I have”.
“What happened to our girliness? All I seem to have are jeans, trainers, t-shirts and tracksuits, it's like I can't even be bothered with looking the slightest bit pretty any more”.
“Screw that, don’t you think women have dedicated enough of our lives towards the scourge of capitalist societal beauty standards? I doubt anyone will care if you let your hair down when they have more than enough cardboard cut-out, size zero, influencer dollies to pick from”.
“No seriously though, I can't remember when last I even wore a dress. Look at this”.
Rachel pulled out a somewhat dishevelled frilly red cocktail dress she hadn't used in years from her suitcase. It was any wonder if it even fit her any longer.
“It looks fine I guess, you should wear that one if it makes you happiest”.
“That’s not really helpful, I need a concrete answer”.
“Didn't I just say you should wear it?”
“Yeah, in like the most wishy washy non-committal way possible”.
“Well if you want my honest opinion, I’d prefer you had nothing on, but something tells me that wouldn't go down so well at the banquet”.
Rachel laughed.
“Stop it, I'm being serious here”.
“Well seriously stop overthinking everything, it's fine, you're perfect, everything is perfect, put it on already”.
“Okay. Sorry for being a pain, I'm just… you know”.
“Look at you, you say you don't care what your parents think any more and that you didn't even want to be here, but you're panicking over a small thing like this. Methinks there's still a part of that lil’ ol Rachel that still cares”.
“Just a little bit. You’re right, I’m not even sure why”.
“Just a little bit indeed. Stop fussing, put it on already and whatever happens, happens”. Her girlfriend lunged across the bed and attempted to strip her.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“I'm getting you into that damn dress so we can frigging leave already. I'm hungry as a mofo”.
The women laughed and changed.
Once Rachel had slipped into the dress, she ran over to the bathroom to admire herself. Spinning around before the mirror, she couldn't help but beam over the fact that the dress still fit her so nice and snug.
“Guess those morning jogs on the beach worked out”.
“Guess they did, you look fucking hot”, her girlfriend replied, stepping into the bathroom behind her.
“Stop”.
“You do! If I weren't so hungry I'd rip it off you right now”.
“Can you zip me up?”
“With pleasure”.
Morning jogs were all part of a new healthier routine Rachel had taken up, an ambition to change her lifestyle for the better. Now that she had found the love of her life and settled, she could refocus on herself and her health, something she had been neglecting for some time now.
As her girlfriend zipped her up, she leaned over from behind and whispered in her ears.
“You’re gorgeous”.
“Thanks”, Rachel replied and turned to her, “so are you and you’ll be even more so when you are done glamming up. Go on, get ready”.
“Are you done with the bathroom?”
“I’ll need it for last minute touch ups, but otherwise, yes”.
“How does ditching your parents and going somewhere else for dinner sound”.
“Aren't you the one that said you wanted to see me close old wounds with my parents? How would ditching dinner look?”
Her girlfriend stepped back a little surprised.
“You're really serious about this”.
“I guess I am… well at least for this trip, after that, fuck knows”.
“Well, colour me impressed”.
“Multitask, be impressed and move your hands at the same time”, she coaxed her girlfriend to hurry.
Rachel returned to the bedroom and sat down to a little table with a mirror where her makeup bag sat. A very light touch up would do, nothing excessive. As she unzipped the bag and began, she thought back to the time when the decision to move to Brighton first popped into her head.
Having made some new friends amongst the gay community, she soon discovered a world opened unto her that she had no prior access to or knowledge of, a world of freedom, a world where she no longer had to feel constrained by society’s expectations.
This was all so new and oh so exciting, like a new world finally having opened its large golden doors to her. On the other side were feelings and thoughts she never knew she could experience and a newfound sense of understanding. Everyone on this side of the door had a fascinating story to tell, everyone had had a profound journey to reach this very point, some more treacherous than others and some had taken longer than others to reach this point, but nevertheless they had all made it, all finally found the place they were meant to be, even if like she, there were still unfinished affairs to attend to back on the other side of the door.
So encapsulated by her new world was she, that she had almost forgotten about her parents; she had spent so much time flying above the clouds, an ascended freedom, that the sudden topic sway to guys, deep meaningful relationships and grandchildren at a family dinner, was akin to dropping an anvil on her, bringing her crashing back down into the deep ocean, where she had to fight the waves to refrain from drowning.
They ambushed her, her mother picked this topic of conversation to have during a family dinner with her aunties, her uncle, her cousins, her grandmothers and grandfather all there to listen in on the intimate details of her love life and how much of an apparent failure she was at it. It couldn't have been more humiliating and infuriating.
Her mother, once again playing the fiddle, acting as though she were the author of the biography of Rachel Rosemary Heart’s life, talking on her behalf and only making the situation all the more awkward.
Rachel put up with it for a while, hoping the conversation would eventually kill itself off if she simply didn’t participate, but it didn't and little by little, it ate away at her wall of patience. They made unnecessary comparisons between her and her cousins in happy relationships, instigated an unwarranted intricate analysis of her history with guys and icing on the top, each delightfully adding their two pennies on what her ideal man would probably consist of.
Rachel snapped, in a moment she would both regret and not regret afterwards. She hadn't intended to give them the news like this, it was meant to be a private and intimate affair and instead they forced her hand, she couldn’t take any more.
She silenced the table with a bold and unwavering statement as loud as her vocal cords would allow, “I'm gay!”
The reception to her announcement perhaps would have been less frosty if she exposed herself instead. Shocked faces and complete overbearing silence besides the metal of cutlery hitting ceramic plates. So tense was the silence that she could have cut through it with a butter knife and it was another minute or two - a minute or two that could have lasted an eternity - before her aunty attempted to restart conversation with the clearing of her thought and a passive reply of, “Well… erm… what a turn of events”.
Despite her aunt's attempt to alleviate the heavy atmosphere, her mother seemed less interested in restoring the calm and more interested in entertaining the shocking revelation.
“What?”
“I said I’m gay, mum, homosexual, call it what you will, so you can stop the crap about guys and s
ettling down”.
“She's joking everyone, she's always been a comedian. Tell them you are joking, darling, otherwise they'll take you seriously”.
“I'm not joking, I'm being as serious as it gets”.
“Of course you are, darling”, her mother replied patronisingly.
“Mum! For fuck sake, get a clue”, Rachel snapped, receiving a round of gasps, “not everything pans out the way you want it to”.
“Rachel!” Her aunty had heard enough.
“Don't speak to your mother that way, young lady!” Her father leapt in, probably more so to create the illusion of responsibility, something severely lacking in his department the past few years.
“Well when she doesn't want to listen, I'll put it as blunt as it gets”.
“You're not gay!” Her mother snapped.
“I am! I planned to tell you both in private, but you just couldn't keep your mouths shut until then could you. Just like every other aspect of my life you always feel the need to flaunt. Well since my love life is the interstitial of conversation, I'm fucking gay, take it or leave it!”.
“Language! Children at the table”, her uncle cried, but he was drowned out by her mother.
“You are not some perverted faggot! It's that Terri girl, she got you mixed up in this delusional rubbish didn't she? Or maybe it's from that disgusting bar? Or was it university? Or that boarding school?”
“Clearly it doesn’t matter to you either way since I'm not the perfect little girl you expected me to be, so why bother explaining, especially to someone still using the word faggot? I mean seriously mum, fucking seriously? And perverted? That's rich coming from you!”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I think… I think we should call it a night”, her aunt chimed in, beginning to clear the table whilst her other aunt hurried the children away from it.
“You know what? I knew you'd be like this, mum, I fucking knew it, I was right on the money. You just can't escape being a royal ignorant bitch at times”.
Her mother stood up, launched over at her and slapped her across the face. The scene happened so fast and so out of the blue, that Rachel was left stunned. Never had her mother struck her, so where had that unhinged attack come from?
Cryptophobia | Book 2 | Hell & High Water [Fear The Unknown] Page 7