My Great Ex-Scape

by MacIntosh, Portia

  ‘I'm not even sure you know what you mean,’ I point out.

  ‘I can come with you if you like,’ Josh chimes in. ‘I’ve got the night off, I’d love to. We can catch up, keep an eye on your folks, have a few drinks.’

  ‘Oh, there we go, all’s well that ends well,’ Eli says. He pulls me for a hug before pushing me away just enough to close the door. ‘See you, sis.’

  ‘I feel like I’ve just been dumped,’ I tell Josh. ‘You know you don’t have to come, right? I’ll be fine on my own.’

  ‘I’m sure you would be, but I’d like to come… if you want me to?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’d love you to.’

  I actually would. Now that we’ve spent more time together, I’m starting to really enjoy Josh’s company.

  ‘Great,’ he says. ‘Well, let’s go and see if we can get jackets.’

  ‘Don’t even joke,’ I say. ‘You know my dad is going to be wearing his.’

  ‘He’ll make it work,’ Josh says.

  ‘I’m so nervous,’ I admit. ‘What’s the captain like?’

  ‘Have you been paying attention to his announcements?’ Josh asks me.

  ‘Yes… they sound kind of kooky, I think I’d assumed it was just an actor.’

  ‘Nope, that’s the captain, and kooky is exactly what he is.’

  Oh, wonderful, that’s just what I need. Drinks with the kooky captain. If anything was going to make me think that we won’t make it to New York, it’s finding out that the Joker is steering this ship.

  Still, at least I’ll have Josh there with me. I’m actually really pleased he’s coming along. The more I’m around him, the more I want to be around him. I’m really starting to enjoy hanging out with him again. It would be nice if we could be friends, but while he’s doing this job, there’s no way I can maintain any sort of friendship with him, unless I reactivate my social media profiles, but, honestly, I’m kind of enjoying life without them, and exchanging the occasional Facebook message would hardly count as maintaining a friendship, would it? Never mind anything else that I may or may not be thinking about…

  22

  Guess what… the captain could fit us in tonight. Because of course he could. Because no one else is buying these jackets.

  I really don’t know what I was thinking, when I imagined a captain’s private bar. At first I thought it would be big, lavish, super exclusive with fancy décor and stylish furniture. Then, I’d think a little more logically and it would shrink into something small, intimate, maybe with a globe in the middle, ocean charts on the wall, leather-bound books and big armchairs.

  Now that I’m here it’s, well… it’s sort of both. It’s not huge, but it’s not tiny either. It’s not too fancy, but it’s not too serious. The only thing that it does have, that I didn’t float in either scenario in my head, are taxidermy animals on all available walls and flat surfaces. So, while it might be just the one bartender behind the bar, along with me, Josh, my mum and my dad, we are still under the watchful gaze of birds, fish, a stag’s head, foxes, rabbits and a few reptiles I can’t accurately identify. Their beady eyes are so lifelike, yet so cold and dead. The only real animal in the room is a golden retriever, fast asleep by a fireplace that I can’t quite figure out. I'm not sure if it is real or decorative. I imagine, if it is real, it might be one of those bioethanol fireplaces, as opposed to a real one that needs a chimney. That just feels like asking for trouble.

  The captain himself is yet to join us, although you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise because my dad is proudly wearing his captain’s jacket – not that I think the captain would wear a jacket like this.

  My mum looks lovely, in a pale blue skirt and jacket combo. She always looks so effortlessly classy in a way that I know I never could.

  I am wearing a silver cocktail dress that looks just right next to Josh, in his black suit and white shirt. He popped to his cabin to get changed before we came here. I hovered outside his door while he dashed in. In less than ten minutes he was back out in the corridor with me, and while his suit is still very much like something Michael Bublé might wear, there is an unidentifiable difference between his stage clothes and his real clothes. Even after his sexy new glow-up, in his own clothes he somehow looks a little more like himself, although still admittedly more handsome than when I used to know him. With his own accent, without a microphone or an audience in sight, he’s just Josh, and it feels even easier to be around him.

  ‘You know, I was talking to one of the old dears by the pool about you earlier today,’ my mum tells Josh. ‘She was telling me all about your wife and kids.’

  My heart jumps into my mouth – well, it’s my heart or it’s all the chocolate I ate before I left my suite. I feel my body stiffen as an anger I didn’t expect surges through my veins, pooling into my arms and legs, making me feel so tense. I wrack my brains for snippets of our conversations up to now – didn’t he say he was single? I remember telling him that I was single, back when he thought Eli was my boyfriend, but did he actually say that he was? If he did, I’m so so angry at him for lying to me, but, if he didn’t, well, I suppose if it was to mislead me then that’s just as bad as lying. Then again, why would he mention it? It’s not like I’m a potential love interest, is it? He doesn’t owe me any kind of explanation; his private life is his private life… so why am I getting so upset?

  I need to excuse myself, to get out of this room and clear my head. I don’t want anyone to think this topic of conversation is having any effect on me.

  ‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ I say as I pull myself to my feet, careful not to burst any seams on my dress in the process. It’s a full-time job at the best of times, but when I’m in a hurry, a wardrobe malfunction feels more likely, if not imminent.

  ‘Whoa there, wait a second,’ Josh insists, jumping to his feet too. ‘This is how misunderstandings happen, when people leave mid-conversation. I absolutely don’t have a wife and kids.’

  He’s either doubling down on his spectacular lie or he’s telling the truth. How can I know which one it is? And, worst of all, he knows that I have had problems trusting in the past, he knows this will play on my mind. I suppose that’s why he’s quick to insist it’s not true, but what am I going to do? Make him prove it? Why would I bother? Why do I care?

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ my mum says. ‘This is the thing. She kept talking about your wife and kids, the time she saw you on The Graham Norton Show – and then I realised she was calling you Michael. Most of the ladies on this ship think you’re the actual Michael Bublé.’

  Josh laughs. ‘I know, I know, I do tell them I’m just a tribute but… I don’t know, they seem happy believing what they believe. So a few of them get a bit mixed up sometimes.’

  ‘You want to be careful,’ my mum starts. ‘If I had been an eligible bachelorette, it might have made me think you were off the market… Are you off the market?’

  ‘Mum,’ I snap. ‘Don’t interrogate him.’

  I’d actually quite like to know the answer, now that I think about it. I wasn’t expecting to feel so strongly about the thought of him having a family already. I’m weirdly glad that he doesn’t.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Josh says with a laugh as he sits back in his seat. ‘I am very much on the market, sadly. At sea, you don’t meet too many women looking to settle down.’

  ‘So, you do want a family?’ my mum persists.

  ‘Mum!’ I say again.

  Josh just laughs. ‘Honestly, it’s OK,’ he insists. ‘By the way, Rosie, now you know I don’t have a secret double life, you can go to the bathroom or wherever you were heading.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t going to the bathroom,’ I say, although that would be the most logical explanation. I suppose I could have just pretended and gone anyway, but I kind of want to see where this conversation is going. I’m curious about what Josh does want in his future. ‘I was just, erm…’ I glance around the room. ‘I was just going to pet the dog. I love dogs, I miss them, bei
ng on this ship, I used to see a bunch, every day, just going about my business…’ Awkward, horrible, embarrassing babbling.

  ‘OK,’ he says.

  I walk over to the golden retriever and squat down next to him. His eyes are closed. He looks fast asleep, so comfortable and so peaceful. Still, if I know dogs like I think I do, I’m sure he won’t mind a few pats and some ear scratches.

  I gently extend my hand and place the back of it on his head, but right away I can tell something isn’t right. He doesn’t feel soft and warm he’s hard and… Oh God.

  I scream as I recoil in horror.

  ‘Oh my God, the dog is dead, the dog is dead,’ I say.

  ‘I should hope so,’ a deep voice bellows across the room. ‘Or getting him stuffed was a grave mistake.’

  A broad man with a deep voice walks towards us. He reminds me a little of Lou Ferrigno, the bodybuilder who played the Hulk in The Incredible Hulk TV series back in the 70s. My dad used to watch it on VHS when I was growing up. But even more distinctive than his voice or his frame is his jacket. His ugly, sci-fi-looking jacket that is exactly like my dad’s, only it looks like it’s made out of more expensive materials, with more care. Wow, I guess the captain really does wear a jacket like that. It appears, as the cashier had suggested, to be his relaxing jacket, who’d have thought?

  My dad gives me a side-eye that absolutely oozes with sass. He looks so smug to be right about the captain wearing the jacket and pleased as punch to be wearing one (not quite) just like it too.

  Sadly, the captain’s arrival and his jacket can’t fully detract from the fact I’ve just petted a dead dog. I feel sick to my stomach. I would say that taxidermy is an arguably grim practice anyway, but touching it, expecting it to be a warm, breathing, alive lovable golden retriever has made it all the more repulsive. I just want to wash my hands.

  ‘Have you been trying to feed the birds too?’ the captain asks with an amused chuckle. I’m so glad he finds it so funny.

  ‘I just wasn’t expecting it to be stuffed – I didn’t realise people stuffed dogs,’ I point out. ‘Everything else in here is a wild animal.’

  Don’t get me wrong, it is all absolutely repulsive. But dogs are household pets – practically family members to most people. I wouldn’t stuff a dead pet any more than I would stuff my granddad, I can’t think of anything more horrible or upsetting.

  ‘Yes, well, when you’re at sea all the time, you really miss your pets. You can’t bring them on board with you, not alive at least, so I had them pull old Stanford’s plug out and make him a little more ship-friendly,’ he explains.

  I place a hand over my mouth.

  ‘Look at your face,’ the captain laughs. ‘I’m joking, I’m joking. You can bring pets on board, there’s a special part of the ship where you can walk them. No, poor old Standford croaked naturally. But I did have him stuffed so that I could keep him forever. He was such a good boy, such a great friend. I’m Captain Martin, by the way.’

  ‘So great to meet you, captain,’ my dad says, offering him a hand to shake.

  My mum shuffles on the spot, as though she’s fixing to curtsy, but thankfully she doesn’t. She just reaches out to shake his hand, but Captain Martin has other ideas. He snatches up her hand and plants a kiss on the back of it. My mother blushes and giggles.

  ‘I’m Timothy,’ my dad tells him. ‘This is my wife Evelyn, our daughter Rosie and that’s her ex-boyfriend Josh.’

  My eyebrows shoot up to the deck above. Why on earth did he have to introduce him as my ex-boyfriend? I know he is, but still, just say friend, surely?

  ‘Oh, hey, it’s our very own Michael Bublé,’ the captain says. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ he replies politely. ‘And you?’

  ‘Yes, can’t complain, can’t complain. Drunk as a skunk, but pretty sure we’re going in the right direction… I’m joking, I'm joking.’

  I cannot believe this man is in charge of the ship. It’s terrifying to think that the running of the ship, the staff, the passengers, their pets… this man is the person taking care of all of it. This man, who can’t stop joking for two minutes, whose idea of a joke is arguably completely unfunny.

  ‘That’s a fine jacket you have there, Timothy,’ Captain Martin says. ‘A fine choice of purchase.’

  ‘Thank you,’ my dad replies. ‘It’s just so stylish. I had no idea it came with the opportunity to meet you, I have so many questions to ask you.’

  ‘Well, it’s my night off,’ he says. ‘Let’s order some drinks, get some food brought in here – I would love to chat with you, Timothy, and with your gorgeous lady wife.’

  Given this man is in charge of the ship, I’d expected the meet and greet to be a quick in and out jog, maybe a swift drink, before we would be shown the door, and that was fine by me. I mean, it wasn’t really fine by me because I didn’t even want to do that much, but knowing that it would be quick and painless meant that it might not be the weirdest night of my life – except now it’s turning in to being exactly that.

  ‘Please, call me Tim,’ my dad says. ‘All my friends call me Tim.’

  ‘Right you are, Tim,’ the captain replies.

  Oh my God, it is like I’m trapped in a nightmare. From the embarrassing encounters to the dead animals decorating the place, this is exactly how I would describe my worst nightmare. The only thing it’s missing is a TV camera, for full, mortifying, oh ground please swallow me up, embarrassment.

  I yawn theatrically. ‘Oh, would you look at the time,’ I say, glancing at my bare wrist. I actually have no idea what time it is, nor am I tired at all. I just want to get out of here.

  ‘I’d love to pick your brains about the plumbing on this bad boy,’ my dad continues, not even listening to me, and he heads to the bar with the captain, my mum following close behind.

  I take a few slow steps towards Josh.

  ‘I don’t even think they would notice if we left,’ I tell him. ‘I definitely don’t think they would care.’

  ‘I think you might be right,’ Josh says. ‘Shall we do a bunk?’

  I nod decisively before we slowly but surely make our way towards the door. Josh opens it quietly for me. I slink out, with him hot on my heels. As the door slams closed behind, thanks to a little unexpected whatever ship turbulence is called, we both instinctively run down the corridor. Of course no one is chasing us. A tidal wave could’ve burst in through a window and taken us off out to sea, but my parents would have been way too engrossed in their conversation to notice.

  We finally stop when we get to the lift.

  ‘I know you said he was kooky, but oh my God, what an odd man,’ I say as I try to catch my breath. Is there anything more embarrassing than being so unfit that, as soon as you exert yourself a little in front of an audience, you have to try and hide the fact that you’re dying because your body isn’t used to exercise in any way, shape or form? I’ve done more exercise on this ship than I have this year.

  ‘Yeah, he’s eccentric, all right,’ Josh agrees. ‘He is a good captain though, everyone loves him.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, I’m sure he’s lovely until you die and then he stuffs you and hangs you from the wall,’ I say.

  Josh laughs. ‘I’ll walk you to your suite, if you’re tired,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ I say. ‘I’m not really tired though, I just wanted to leave.’

  ‘Oh, don’t let me force you into bed then,’ he says. He bites his lip as he regrets his choice of words. ‘You know, I’ve never actually seen inside a suite. The cabins they give us are the small, standard ones, low down in the ship, usually without windows. One time they had miscalculated how many rooms they needed for staff so I got an upgrade. I was so excited to have a window with some natural light coming in, but instead it had a digital balcony.’

  ‘What the hell is a digital balcony?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘Imagine a real balcony,’ he says as we walk. ‘Looking out during the day, your curtain
blowing in the wind, then the night sky at night… except you’re actually in a windowless room and your wall is covered with a large screen that makes it look like you have a balcony.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s… is that genius? It’s either genius or depressing.’

  ‘In a way, it did make a nice change,’ he starts. ‘But you could tell it wasn’t real.’

  ‘Well, you can come in if you’d like,’ I say. ‘We could maybe have a drink, watch a documentary about a serial killer like old times?’

  ‘I would absolutely love that,’ he says. ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘Great,’ I reply, trying to contain my smile. ‘But don’t get too excited, I don’t think we have the best suites you can get. I heard some have multiple floors and Jacuzzis… We do have a balcony though, and a nice big sofa that we will be able to actually sit on because it sounds like Eli has well and truly bailed on me now. Still, it could be worse, I—’

  Another jolt to the ship sends me hurtling into Josh’s arms. He catches me and helps me back to my feet, keeping his hands on my sides to steady me.

  ‘You OK?’ he asks me.

  ‘Oh, yeah, that could’ve been much worse,’ I say. ‘I usually hardcore embarrass myself at every opportunity.’

  ‘I don’t remember that about you, you know,’ Josh points out.

  ‘Hmm, maybe I didn’t used to be so bad… maybe it all went wrong at some point. I’ve definitely always had bad luck, maybe it comes from that.’

  ‘You do not have bad luck,’ he insists with a laugh.

  ‘I could tell you some stories that would prove otherwise,’ I say.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Just trust me,’ I say.

  Josh reaches up to push a piece of hair from in front of my eyes. It must have messed itself up a little when I stumbled. His hand brushes my cheek for a few seconds as he places my hair behind my ear. It’s like there is an electricity that transfers from his fingers to my cheek, down my neck before working its way down my back.