Best Friends & Other Liars Page 5

“Are you upset I’m going on the trip?” I had asked.

  Please say yes and then I’ll stay home and fix this all. I’ll fix my marriage and the kids and everything.

  She shook her head. “No, Mom. You need to go and get a break from us. I know that.” Her eyes clouded. “Dad doesn’t realize how hard you work.”

  I swallowed a sob as I tried to croak out a thank you, but my daughter left the room before I could even speak. I couldn’t be a total failure if at least one of my kids thought I needed a vacation. Maybe I did deserve it after all.

  “I’m sorry, Vi,” Leah interrupts my painful reminiscing, and I am brought back to the present, where I am standing on the line to check in. I shake my head to forget about my fight with Richard—although, I’m pretty sure every time I look at my unpainted nails on this trip, I’ll be reminded of it. And I’ll want to cry.

  As I feel the tears bubble up underneath my already puffy eyelids, I dab at them (hopefully nonchalantly) while asking Leah, “Why? What are you sorry for?”

  Leah glances around before she leans in toward me and says in a hushed voice, “There’s something about the cruise that I didn’t tell you. You’ve gotta promise you won’t be mad, though. I only did it for your own good.” She offers me a weak smile and I can see her hand is actually shaking.

  Oh good God, what? What could she have possibly left out? This cruise goes to the Bermuda Triangle?

  “What?” I ask in the tone that I reserve for when I am overly annoyed with my children and they have completely shredded every ounce of patience I have. “What is it?”

  “It’s about the kind of cruise it is,” Leah tells me, still in the hushed voice. “Look around. Do you notice anything?”

  I gaze around at the others on line. Hmmm. Normal lady with strawberry blonde hair pulled into a ponytail in front of us. Her arm is looped through the arm of another woman with blonde hair in a short pixie cut. They’re deep in conversation. Okay. Friends like me and Leah. To the left, there are three guys together, one has his arm draped over the shoulders of the other two. More friends obviously. Behind us, two women—

  Oh my goodness, it’s a gay cruise! Not that there’s anything wrong with a gay cruise, but I’m not gay and I don’t want to go on a gay cruise!

  Panicking that I am going to end up spending the week fighting off advances of women looking to hook up, I grab Leah by the arm and pull her ear toward my mouth. “Is this a gay cruise? Oh God, Leah, how could you take me on a gay cruise?” I’m practically in tears.

  Leah nearly chokes on her saliva. “Oh my God, Vi! No! What makes you think that?”

  “Well, there are lots of men with men, and women with women—”

  Leah shakes her head. “No, that’s not it at all! Look again.”

  My eyes dart around, searching for what she’s talking about. Everyone has luggage, everyone appears to have clothes—although the guy joining the line now is wearing slides and a trench coat—I’m not sure what’s underneath that trench coat. Everyone seems to be with someone else...mostly in the form of couples, but some groups—That’s it! No kids!

  “There are no kids,” I say to Leah, beaming from ear to ear. I feel like I just solved the New York Times crossword puzzle.

  She does a double take and stares at me. “Yes,” she says slowly. “That is true...no kids.” She squints appraisingly at me. “You’re okay with no kids, right?”

  “I guess it’s a good thing that there aren’t a bunch of kids running around, reminding me of my kids at home.”

  “And no kids splashing chlorinated water into our cocktails at the pool,” the woman with strawberry blonde hair in front of us adds. She turns to face us and I can see her cheeks are nearly completely covered with freckles. Her stunning green eyes twinkle merrily as she adds, “Thank God.”

  When I look at her with alarm, she explains, “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear you. I left my kids home. When you finally break free from jail for a week, the last thing you want is other people’s kids ruining your vacation. Am I right?” She nudges me with a grin on her face.

  Her smile is infectious and I find the corners of my mouth turning up, even though I want to shout, No! I miss mine to death and it’s only been a half an hour since I’ve seen them!

  “This one doesn’t get that,” she jerks her finger toward her friend who has now joined our little circle. “She doesn’t have kids.” The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes.

  “Not by choice, Kendall, not by choice,” the other woman says with a scowl. She leans closer to her friend and hisses, “This is not the thing to be discussing with random strangers.”

  The first woman ignores her friend and holds out her hand, “Kendall Harris. The bump on the log that calls herself my friend is Francine Palmer.” She rolls her eyes at us. “I know, I know. I should have realized with a name like Francine she would be boring as all hell, but still, I was looking for a Shirley to my Laverne and Francine was the only one available.” She turns to Francine and says triumphantly, “See? Now we’re not random strangers.”

  “More like you were looking for a Charlie Brown to your Lucy,” Francine mumbles while sticking out her own hand. “Sorry about her, I know she’s a bit much to swallow, but I think she means well. At least, I haven’t found out otherwise yet.”

  “Um, okay,” I stammer, completely overwhelmed by this pair that I initially had dismissed as normal. I’m not sure what else to say.

  “I’m Leah,” Leah says, taking Francine’s hand. “That’s Violet.”

  Oh yeah, that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone introduces themselves...tell them your name.

  “Nice to meet you,” Francine counters like a normal human being. But Kendall swoops in with the exuberant grabbing of both our hands and pumping them. “Leah and Violet! What awesome names! I like them a heck of a lot better than Francine.” She drops our hands and waves at her friend. “You can go now, Francine! I’ve found friends with better names!”

  Then she starts cracking up at her joke. I stand there frozen in place, not quite sure if this woman is completely bonkers or she’s just trying to be witty. Either way, she’s completely missing the mark with us.

  Then, Leah starts cackling along with Kendall. What the—?

  As I am staring open mouthed at them, Leah says, “Well, if you thought somebody with a name like Violet would be super fun, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  She makes a face and Kendall continues to hoot with laughter. Francine and I are looking around nervously—people are starting to stare. And not in a way that makes me feel like a movie star either.

  “Leah,” I hiss. “Could you keep it down? People are staring.”

  Leah grins and nudges her newfound friend. “See? She’s always worried about what other people think. And she never believes in giving herself a break. Why I practically had to drag her on this vacation—”

  “Me too!” Kendall gasps while clasping Leah’s arm. “Francine acted like she was being drawn and quartered at the mere idea of a vacation!”

  “You know I have a lot going on at work and getting this vacation time was a major undertaking,” Francine interjects, face turning crimson.

  “Work, smirk,” Kendall scoffs, waving her hand in front of her face. “All you do is work. You never have fun. You never let yourself enjoy life. Instead, you’re always obsessed with work—”

  “Well, I kind of have to be,” Francine snaps. “Things haven’t been quite the same since Jeff picked up and skipped town with all my money.”

  “Oh no,” I gasp, at the same time that Kendall rolls her eyes.

  “Ancient history!” Kendall tells us. “That happened four years ago. And Francine has been completely hung up on it ever since. Her ex has been an ex longer than the paint’s been dry on my living room walls and she won’t even contemplate moving on. And it’s definitely time to move on. Hell, I picked up a bunch of swatches to repaint my living room just last week.”

  “Next!” I he
ar a sharp voice call out and I realize that in the time that we started talking to Kendall and Francine, we’ve moved to the front of the line. Kendall and Francine are next.

  Francine picks up the handle to her suitcase and nudges her friend. “Let’s go,” she tells her. “We’re holding up the line.” She bobs her head at us and says, “It was very nice meeting you. Have a lovely vacation.”

  “You too,” I reply genuinely. She seems like a decent person...stuck on a cruise with a nut job of a friend. It’s a familiar scenario.

  Kendall waves her hand in front of her face. “Don’t be daft, Francine. We’re on the same ship! We can meet up with them for drinks! Or dinner! Or at the nightclub!”

  “Sounds great!” Leah calls as Francine sighs and drags Kendall off by her arm. “We’ll find you!”

  I am shaking my head when Leah turns to me with a huge smile on her face. “What?” she asks when she sees that I’m not sharing her unbridled joy. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter,” I say as I fish my passport out of the front zipper compartment. “It’s just not nice to promise people stuff that you have no intention of doing.”

  “What did I promise?” Leah asks, miffed.

  I wave my hand toward the counter where Kendall and Francine are sliding their tickets and passports toward the ticket agent. “You promised them we’d have dinner or meet them for a drink.”

  Geez, sometimes I wonder if she doesn’t have dementia. She forgets what she just said? And she doesn’t even have kids.

  Leah stares at me for a second before she laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Vi. Of course we’ll have dinner with them. It’ll be fun!”

  “What?” I squeak, just as the next ticket agent announces that she is available.

  “We can’t have dinner with them! We don’t even know them! How can we have dinner with people we don’t even know?”

  I’m suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic and panicky at this thought. Leah ignores my whimpering and pushes me forward until we reach the ticket counter.

  “Tickets and passports,” the bored ticket agent mutters as we approach.

  Both Leah and I hand them over. The agent frowns as she accepts them. It has to be a bummer to have a job where you watch people go on vacation all the time.

  “You need to get over your weird fear of other people,” Leah observes as the ticket agent, whose name tag reads Patricia, clacks away at her computer keyboard, completely absorbed in the checking-in process.

  “I don’t have a weird fear of other people,” I retort defensively. “I just don’t like strangers.”

  Leah snorts as Patricia scans our passports, one at a time. “Everyone is a stranger to you because you refuse to get to know anyone. If you talk to people and hang out with them and have dinner with them, they won’t be strangers anymore. Tell her, Patty. Tell her that’s how it is.” Leah says to the ticket agent.

  Patricia does not do as she is told. “Stand there and smile,” she says instead, pointing to an X taped on the floor. Both Leah and I stare at her.

  “I have to take your picture,” she explains with exasperation. “It’s for your keycard.”

  “Together?” Leah asks.

  Patricia sighs. “One at a time...obviously.”

  “Obviously,” Leah mutters as she drops the handle of her rolling suitcase and pats down her hair. She stands on the X and juts out her chin with her signature “sexy Leah” move. It’s a trick she’s been using for years when she takes a picture—it gets rid of your chin wrinkles and makes your face look younger and thinner. Or at least she says it does. Any time I try to do it, I look like an orangutan having a stroke. Patricia snaps the picture and Leah bounces over to the counter.

  “Can I see?” she asks Patricia.

  “No,” Patricia replies flatly. “You’re next,” she tells me.

  I stand on the X and attempt to smile. I try to put the events of this already traumatic day behind me. I try to imagine that I’m going to have a good time on this vacation that my best friend has been kind enough to take me on for my fortieth birthday. I try not to think about the fact that I’m probably going to go home and have to start looking for an apartment because Richard and I aren’t going to be able to live together anymore. And heaven knows, he won’t let me keep the house considering it’s “eighty-five percent” his income.

  “Smile,” Patricia commands, just as I burst into tears.

  LEAH

  Okay, I do feel bad that I didn’t tell Vi the truth about the cruise while we were standing on line. But you could see that I had every intention of doing so, right? I mean, until she got the idea that it was a “Kid-free Cruise”. Which is not a lie. It is a kid-free cruise.

  It won’t hurt to keep her in the dark for just a little bit longer. Besides, if I had confessed while we were still on land, she might have stormed off and hailed a cab back home. And then I would have had to chase her down and drag her back to the boat kicking and screaming—it would have gotten ugly, trust me.

  No, this is better. As soon as the ship shoves off the dock and she has no place to run, I’ll tell her. Besides, she seems fragile right now. Not sure what’s going on between her and that shithead husband of hers, but whatever it is has made her quite emotional. Hell, the idea of taking a picture for her keycard just had her in tears.

  I’m pretty sure it’s not that time of the month, but God help me if it is. Vi can get pretty nutso when she’s PMSing. She cries. A lot. Even more than she usually does. Me, I just punch things, like walls...and ex-boyfriends. But that’s a story for another day.

  As I weave my way through the tiny hallway to get to our cabin, people are brushing against us as they pass. Roughly. We’re moving at a snail’s pace because Vi is literally trudging behind me and I don’t want to move too fast and risk losing her.

  Apparently there are a lot of people in a huge rush to get to their cabins. Why, I have no idea. It’s not like we’re not all going to be on this boat for the next seven days. I guess maybe everyone wants to dump their bags and hit the bar ASAP. Which is not a bad idea at all, come to think of it.

  “What’s the room number again?” Vi asks, huffing and puffing behind me. For a woman whose husband owns a gym, she is seriously out of shape. Even more so than I am.

  “Um, 252 something. Hold on, let me look again.” I peer at our check-in sheet. The numbers are bouncing up and down with every step. “Ugh, I can’t see it…”

  “I thought you promised me you were going to the eye doctor.”

  “I, uh, did. He said my vision was fine,” I stammer as I extend my arm out in front of my face.

  Ah there. The numbers have stopped bouncing. Room 2525. That should be easy to remember.

  “Room 2525,” I tell Vi as I glance up at the numbers on top the doors.

  Crap, I can’t see them.

  “Liar,” Vi mutters behind me.

  “Why would I lie about the room number?” I chuckle nervously.

  “Not the room number,” she replies. “The eye doctor.”

  “I went to the eye doctor!” In 1993.

  What business is it of hers if I went to the eye doctor or not? She’s not my mother, I think sullenly.

  I don’t want to go to the eye doctor. I don’t want him to tell me I need glasses. I know Vi doesn’t care that she needs glasses, but I do. Maybe it’s a little vain, but seriously, glasses are so old-lady looking. I’m not an old lady. I’m not even in my forties yet! And before you suggest contacts, I can’t even begin to fathom touching my eye to put contacts in. I literally shudder at the thought.

  “And he said your eyes were fine?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “So how come you passed our room just now?” Vi asks, a hint of triumph in her voice.

  I halt in my tracks. Shit.

  “Well, you’ve been distracting me with eye doctor talk, that’s why,” I reply defensively as I gaze up at the blurry room numbers over the door. That looks like 252..7
so the rooms must be going down...go to the right...ah ha! Here we are!

  I step up to the door and shove my keycard in. A red light pops up, accompanied by a shrill beep, denying me access.

  “What’s wrong?” Vi asks, smugness in her voice. Damn her.

  “The card isn’t working. Let me try yours.”

  She hands me her card and I repeat the process, the door beeping angrily at me again. Sighing, I say, “Yours isn’t working either. I guess we’ll have to go to the customer service desk to get it reset.”

  “Or,” Vi says, snatching the card from my hand and stepping across the hall, “we could actually go to the right room.” She sticks her card in the slot and points to the number above the door. The light turns green and she pushes the door open, all while smirking at me.

  Damn her again.

  “Maybe that eye doctor should have his own eyes checked,” she remarks, pulling her wobbly suitcase into the room. “Or at least his credentials.”

  I step into the cabin behind her and of course, the first thing I notice is that it’s small...much smaller than I expected. The first thing that Vi notices is the bed.

  “Why is there only one bed?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea,” I tell her as I plop my suitcase down on the bed. “I explicitly requested a cabin with two beds.”

  I notice that there is a piece of paper lying on the bed, but it’s too dark to read it. With or without glasses. With the cabin door closed, the only light in the room is from the tiny porthole window in the wall.

  “Can you get the light so I can read this thing?” I ask, snatching up the paper.

  “Of course,” Vi says. “How do I turn this thing on?” she asks, tapping at the wall with frustration. “The switch is over here, but it doesn’t come on when I click it.”

  “I don’t know. I guess we got the defective room.”

  I move over toward the porthole window to try to read the paper while Vi continues to pat down the wall as if she is looking for the switch to send the closet into Narnia.

  Greetings, Ms. Lansing and Ms. Anderson! We would like to welcome you to our very first ever Divorce Cruise! We realize that you are going through, or have recently gone through, a trying period in your life. Therefore, we want you to have a relaxing cruising experience, where you have nothing more stressful to worry about than what to wear to dinner. We have taken the liberty of designing an itinerary with YOU in mind. Please let us know if there is anything else we can do to help you enjoy your vacation to the fullest! Below is your itinerary: