My Great Ex-Scape

by MacIntosh, Portia

  It’s so cute, watching them together. I’m not an expert in love – I’m barely a novice – but they seem so into each other. It’s making me feel so, so single though, and very much like the third wheel.

  ‘Are we still on for dinner tonight?’ Eli asks him.

  ‘Of course,’ André replies. ‘We could meet at my cabin first, have a drink? I have my own cabin.’

  Damn, I’m not sure if that’s a flex on me (who is sharing with her ex) or a come-on to Eli. Either way, I think it’s time I make my excuses.

  ‘Oh, look, it’s Josh,’ I say, pointing him out at the other side of the bar. ‘I’m going to go and say hello.’

  Eli gives me a grateful smile. He invited me along in the first place, but I think he feels like I’m a third wheel now too.

  I head towards Josh meaningfully, fully intending to make a swift exit from the bar when Eli and André stop watching me but before Josh spots me. It doesn’t quite work out that way though.

  ‘Hey, Rosie,’ he says, back to his Mancunian accent. ‘Spent any of your winnings yet?’

  ‘Not even touched them,’ I say. ‘But I did only win ship credit.’

  ‘Yeah, I saw that,’ he says. ‘Are you all-inclusive?’

  ‘Yep,’ I reply.

  He laughs. ‘That’s rough. We do have a wonderful gift shop on board though.’

  ‘Is it wonderful?’ I ask.

  ‘Not really,’ he admits. ‘It’s full of tat.’

  ‘Marvellous,’ I reply. ‘I’ve made plans to take my mum and dad later, I just couldn’t face it right now.’

  ‘You having a nice time with André and Eli?’

  ‘I kind of feel like a spare part, thought I’d leave them to it, go for a walk.’

  ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ he asks. ‘I was actually just about to go for a walk out on the deck, get some air.’

  He picks up his coat from the barstool next to him.

  ‘Erm, yeah, sure,’ I say.

  Well, I was just going to walk alone anyway – probably inside though. I may as well keep Josh company. Plus, if I’m chatting with him, I won’t be agonising over my life choices.

  ‘I really am starting to feel quite claustrophobic,’ he says. ‘I think it’s because we’re at sea for a week without stopping, and even though it’s spring, it’s just so cold outside and when it gets dark, it gets really dark. It’s disorientating.’

  ‘Nothing like working in Australia then?’ I say, kicking myself for bringing up the job he left me for. It’s going to sound like a dig when, in fact, it’s just one of the few bits of information I actually have about him. I somehow feel like I know him so well but also like I don’t know who he is at all now.

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ he says. ‘Fewer murderous spiders.’

  ‘I’d take the freezing cold ocean over hot weather and big spiders any day,’ I tell him, not that he needs me to, he had to remove many a bug from the bathroom back when we were together.

  We walk up a big, wooden staircase to the top deck of the ship where there’s a door that leads out on to the deck. The ship must be so well heated because stepping outside from the cosy warm ship to the icy Atlantic weather feels like walking through a wall.

  It’s so strange, life at sea. You lose all sense of what’s what. For starters, all of the little things you do over the course of the day that anchor you in time don’t exist, whether it’s having lunch, getting home from work or watching a particular TV show. Also, it gets dark kind of early – I think – it certainly feels like it does. It’s dark outside now and I’m not sure if I love it or hate it. I don’t suppose it matters much because whether you are out on the deck during the day or night, you can only see one colour wherever you look: blue or black. Although I suppose you can’t really see the black, the black is more of a lack of sight which makes you feel like – even though you are outside the ship – you are still inside something. You’re inside the icy blackness of the Atlantic Ocean. The jury is still out on whether I feel free or trapped.

  ‘I feel like I’m getting a tour of the ship from an insider,’ I joke.

  ‘Would you like that?’ he asks.

  ‘Probably,’ I reply. ‘I find the ship so fascinating.’

  ‘Well, miss, you are currently on board the longest, largest, tallest, widest ocean liner ever built. It is the equivalent of 24 storeys, measuring around 1,200 ft long – just 50 ft shorter than the Empire State Building is tall.’

  ‘Oh, wow, you really are giving me a tour – the tour,’ I say.

  ‘Well, I’ve heard it many, many times,’ he replies. ‘It’s also the fastest ship, hitting speeds of just under 40 mph. Have you done much exploring?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ I admit. ‘My dad has roped me into a few things – the casino, where I won my worthless money. Water aerobics, shuffleboard. I went to the gym with Eli this morning and I’ve eaten and had drinks in a few different places. I’m a little scared to venture too far out of my comfort zone, if I’m being honest.’

  ‘It is pretty intimidating, when it’s your first time on board,’ Josh says. ‘But, seriously, there is so much to do. For example, here’s something you might like. There’s a library – the biggest at sea – with 10,000 books.’

  I gasp. ‘There’s a library on board?!’

  ‘There is,’ he says. ‘I can show you where it is, if you like?’

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘What else is there?’

  ‘There’s a cinema, there’s loads of unusual activities like fencing. There is even a planetarium – seriously, it’s incredible, if you still like nerding out over things…’

  ‘Oh, God, you know it,’ I say. ‘Did you ever think, on all those nights we would spend watching weird documentaries, that the world would catch up with us?’

  ‘True crime is really having a moment, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘It’s quite odd really, when you think about it, how interested people are in serial killers and mysterious murders.’

  ‘Oh, yes, super weird,’ I say as we stroll. ‘Do you still watch them though?’

  ‘Oh, God, yes,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Out here at sea for days at a time, with a lot of downtime, my Netflix subscription is my best friend. I plough through them.’

  ‘Have you seen The Staircase?’ I ask.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Evil Genius?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘All of the Ted Bundy stuff?’

  ‘Rosie, please, I watched Ted Bundy documentaries before it was cool,’ he jokes. ‘Have you watched ’Til Death Do Us Part?’

  ‘I have…’ I say. ‘What do you think?’

  ’Til Death Do Us Part is a five-part documentary that I actually only watched a couple of weeks ago. The show follows Terry Mackie as he prepares to marry his fiancée Joanna. Joanna is actually Terry’s fourth wife because the previous three all met grizzly ends shortly after tying the knot with him. In each case, the deaths were a little more than suspicious, but despite it seeming like Terry might be involved in the demise of each wife (or like he is some kind of jinx at the least), no one has ever been able to charge him with anything. He’s a self-made multimillionaire with a huge house, he always seems to be on holiday, he has lots of cars and properties – he could give any woman the life of her dreams… until they wind up dead. So, with Joanna seemingly ignoring the fate of her predecessors in (supposedly) the name of true love, the series follows them during the wedding planning process, right up to their big day. Ever since I watched it I’ve kept one eye on the news, expecting to hear any day that something awful has happened to Joanna.

  ‘Come on,’ Josh starts. ‘He definitely did it. There is no way that man hasn’t killed at least one of them.’

  ‘I know, right? He’s so… so… nice, but in such a weird way. He’s like nice enough and softly-spoken enough to make him seem so far from being a murderer, that he actually definitely seems like a murderer, do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I absolutely do,’ he says. ‘
You’re spot on. Something just isn’t right about him.’

  Wow, I’ve missed having someone to talk about weird TV shows with. I tried to get David into true crime, but he said it was too depressing. He’d watch documentaries about dinosaurs – of course – and the occasional history documentary, so long as the findings were in accordance with his own studies (he had no time for any documentary that tried to put forward a different version of events to the ones he had learned), but he said that true crime was just too grizzly and too depressing. He would describe his students as a bunch of depressed gen Z-ers, all miserable from too much exposure to things like these documentaries and the news. He said we’d all be much happier if we stuck to the interesting facts and stopped obsessing over the gruesome ones. It’s just human nature though, isn’t it? To be interested in the unspeakable.

  The main thing this reminds me is just how much I have in common with Josh. I suppose because we started out as just friends, he always felt like a best friend and a boyfriend rolled into one.

  An overwhelming wave of longing for the past washes over me and it stings way more than the cold. I feel like Josh and I had a great thing, we were just moving in completely different directions, getting further and further apart. Here on this ship, with nowhere to go (I mean, we can’t get more than the Empire State Building apart, can we?), no matter how far apart our lives may have gone, we can’t get away from each other and, this close together, looking into those eyes, it’s hard to stop the old feelings rushing back. When we were happy together, we were really happy together.

  I hug my body.

  ‘Here, have this,’ Josh says, shrugging off his black coat before holding it out me.

  ‘Oh, no, don’t be crazy,’ I insist.

  ‘No, come on, what kind of Bublé would I be if I weren’t chivalrous?’

  I laugh.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say as I slip my arms into it. It’s warm from his body heat and it smells like his aftershave. It’s so comforting.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asks me. I didn’t realise I was.

  ‘I was just thinking about Titanic,’ I say, improvising.

  ‘Does that usually make you smile?’ he asks.

  ‘No, of course not,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s just that, when we were packing our cases for the trip, Eli and I thought it might be a good idea to watch the movie, and it’s amazing, how many similarities there are… like you giving me your coat. There isn’t a diamond in the pocket is there?’

  ‘Sadly not,’ he says. ‘I think Eli is more likely to have an expensive diamond in his pocket than a Michael Bublé tribute act, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but he’d sooner die in his coat than give it to me. On the off chance he survived, it would pain him to see me mishandle his couture.’

  ‘He isn’t at all like you described him when we were together and we spoke about our exes,’ Josh points out.

  ‘He isn’t at all like the Eli I knew,’ I say. ‘But then sometimes he is… He’s an amazing man though.’

  ‘He seems it,’ Josh says. ‘André seems to like him a lot.’

  ‘It’s nice to see him happy,’ I say, but my face falls as I realise that I probably wouldn’t feel quite so happy seeing Josh move on. Perhaps, deep down, I did know (without knowing) that Eli and I were never right for each other. It’s impossible for me to feel jealous of him moving on (well, only in a different way, because I wish I had someone, but that’s envying what he has, not someone else having him), but with Josh… I don’t know, it just doesn’t sit well with me.

  ‘Well, speaking of Titanic comparisons, we have a cigar room on board,’ he says, changing the mood.

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, I always find it really interesting… I’ve never been, obviously, because I don’t smoke.’

  ‘Yeah, I imagine it’s awful, but it’s cool that it exists. Feels so old-fashioned.’

  ‘This is the door we need to go through,’ Josh says.

  As he leads me back inside, the warmth of the ship starts to soothe my chilled bones. We don’t have to walk far before he ushers me through another door.

  ‘Oh… my… God!’ I whisper – well, we are in a library after all.

  I imagined the ship library being big but nothing quite as grand as this. It’s massive, the shelves are stacked to capacity with books, it has a real art deco vibe to it – I love it.

  I hurry my eyes across the shelves, taking it all in. There is fiction, non-fiction, old books, new books. I run my hand along a shelf until I locate my favourite novel – The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I find the nearest armchair and sink into it, cuddled up in Josh’s coat, before carefully opening the book – quite an old copy, or at least a well-read one.

  I look up at Josh, who is just smiling at me.

  ‘Listen, I need to go,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a set tonight to get ready for. You’ll be OK here right?’

  ‘I’ll be more than OK here,’ I insist. ‘Thank you for showing it to me. Here, let me give you your coat back.’

  ‘It’s OK, hang on to it for now,’ he insists. ‘You look so cosy. And, come on, what am I going to need it for? There’s nowhere to go and I’m working all night.’

  I smile at him. ‘Well, thanks again, for bringing me here, and for chatting to me, it’s nice to talk to an adult who isn’t related to me, sharing a room with me, or over the age of fifty-five.’

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ he says. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Yeah, see you soon,’ I call after him.

  Before I get stuck back into a book that I must have read a hundred times, I watch Josh walk away. Man, he’s so cool now. So cool, but still such a dork on the inside. I can’t believe we’re both still watching the same kind of TV shows – shows that no one else in my life seems to understand the appeal of.

  It’s such a shame Josh and I were never able to work things out, but he was always destined for bigger things, always drifting away from me. We might be on the same ship now, but once I get to New York, that will be it. He’ll set off back for Liverpool and, by the time I fly home, he’ll probably be on his way back to New York again. I suppose we’ll always just miss each other, like ships in the night, which is such a shame. I’m not sure anyone will get me like Josh does.

  19

  I have known, since the day we boarded this ship, that we could order room service, twenty-four hours a day, completely free of charge (well, covered by our all-inclusive tickets). Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, desserts – anything at all. That’s quite an appealing concept, isn’t it? You would be crazy not to take full advantage of that… and yet I have resisted. It’s not really a willpower thing, it was more of a social call. With my mum, dad and Eli all on board, I made a decision to enjoy all of my meals with them, instead of hiding in my suite, working my way through the menu, all alone.

  Tonight was no exception. I got dressed for dinner, I met up with my parents (alone, because Eli had plans with André again), I didn’t complain when they wanted to eat in the same restaurant. Apparently they love the food there and they are really enjoying the company of Linda, Karen, Colin and Clive, who are also creatures of habit, dining in the same restaurant every night. Personally I’m a little bored of the super fine dining, I’d happily ‘rough it’ in one of the other restaurants – preferably one that has pizza on the menu, but still, I accompanied my parents as I said I would.

  That was until we got there and I realised my mum was edging me into the seat next to Clive again. Bloody boring, weird, oil-anecdote-telling Clive. Clive who could (and probably would) be my dad. Ew.

  My mum is about as subtle as a steam train, so I could see her ushering me in Clive’s direction long before it was obvious to Clive, who, in his defence, I suppose, jumped up to pull my chair out for me.

  Standing there in yet another clingy dress, holding in my tummy for pretty much everyone’s benefit but my own… I don’t know, I just decided I’d had enough. That I deserved a night off.

&n
bsp; So I made an excuse about feeling seasick, headed back to my suite, hopped out of my dress, into my cosy pyjamas and I called for some room service. I say some… it was loads. I called for more room service than one girl needs. A Hawaiian pizza (because pineapple absolutely does belong on a pizza), courgette fries, a salad (probably just for appearances though, if I’m being honest – a healthy but completely empty gesture) and a salted caramel brownie with ice cream. All for me.

  At first I felt a little bit bad for bailing on my parents, but now that I’m watching a movie and pigging out, I feel much better. I needed this time for myself.

  It’s kind of nice to be alone for a bit. I’ve lived on my own for a while and as much as I have always craved my independence and my own space, I’m a people person. Night after night alone in front of the TV before climbing into an empty bed is not my favourite. That’s why I’ve always been way happier with a boyfriend, because it gave me someone to share moments with, share my bed with. Here, on this ship, it’s kind of hard to feel lonely, even though I am alone. I know there are so many people on board, who aren’t going anywhere, so even though I’m in this suite on my own, I don’t feel it. In fact, I am really enjoying my own company right now. I suppose the grass is always greener, isn’t it? Too much time on my own and I’m sure I’ll go back to missing Eli hogging the bathroom, my mum trying to set me up with old geezers and my dad emotionally blackmailing me into playing shuffleboard.

  Now that I’m suitably full (no, of course I didn’t eat it all and, yes, I left more than just the salad I didn’t really want), it has occurred to me to change into something I can venture out of my cabin in, maybe and go and find Josh, watch him perform, but then I wonder why? Why would I do that? It’s not like I’m a big Michael Bublé fan, is it? Although I know that’s not why I would be going. I’d go because I liked spending time with him earlier. I liked it a lot. But not only is it probably not a good idea to get reattached to someone who, in a few days, I’ll go back to never seeing again, but if he’s on stage performing, I’ll just be sitting on my own anyway, technically just staring at him, and that’s way worse.