Image Credit: Pexels- Asad Photo Maldives
I placed my phone in my back pocket, now burning with Mike’s phone number, and returned to the ladies still clamoring over the list of assigned bedding arrangements.
I didn’t have to look at the piece of paper to know who my bunkmates were going to be. Rosanne shouted over the gaggle of women. “Ronnie, you’re with Shelly and me. Get your bag.”
I let out a deep sigh. I was hoping my roommate would be anyone but Roseanne. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a wonderful person––when she is sober––but if the liquor doesn’t kill her first, I just might. How do I say this nicely, without coming off like I am some sort of goodie two-shoes? Roseanne can be a little much. Over the top. Loud. Abrasive. Let’s see what other words could be used to express the type of person Roseanne is. Well, you get my point.
I pasted on a big smile. “Great. I’ll grab my bag.” Following the two women, we entered our little room for the weekend. Tight quarters. It looked like I was sharing a bed with one of them, hopefully Shelly, and the bathroom was going to be shared amongst everyone. Perfect. No one was going anywhere if we all had to wait for everyone to get ready. Saturday night, we would all be waiting for Amy to get out of the bathroom first before anyone had their chance to the showers.
I placed my bag on the shared bed just as Roseanne called dibs on the single. Perfect, just as I had hoped. “Looks like you’re my bedmate,” I turned to Shelly.
“Awesome. I hoped we would be. I really wanted to get to know you more on this trip.”
My brow rose, and she laughed. “Not like that, silly. I just thought we could spend more time together and get to know one another better.”
“Sure. Yeah. Sounds nice,” I gave her a genuine smile. I guess I could learn to be a better friend.
“While you two do what you’re going to do, I’m heading to the deck.” Roseanne grabbed a few more small bottles from her bottomless bag, filtered through her suitcase for a large brimmed hat, and headed out the door.
“Phew. She is going to need a new liver by the time this weekend is over,” Shelly laughed.
“I think you may be right.” I turned to my overnight bag and began to take items out and lay them in the top drawer in the small closet, then hung my dress for the evening event. Whatever that might end up being. I was going to put on my swimsuit and a cover-up, then I lay my head on the pillow for just a little bit.
Shelly did the same. We didn’t talk as each of us went about our tasks. When she lay her head on the opposite pillow, she asked. “Do you think this weekend will be like last time. I mean, who can get into trouble, right? We are stuck on a boat. It’s not like Miranda or Rhonda can cause a huge scene or assault the wait staff, or Roseanne will go to jail.” A small laugh bubbled up from her.
I think I like Shelly more. She appears to have my sense of reasoning. “Can’t see how. It’s only us.” I laughed. “Maybe one of them will fall overboard.”
“No. Don’t say that. That would be terrible. Then one of us would have to jump in and save them. I don’t see Juan coming to anyone’s rescue.”
“You’re right. I’m just joking. I am going to shut my eyes for just a few minutes. We have about twenty minutes before Amy wants us all on deck.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Shelly rolled over and closed her eyes.
I set my alarm on my phone and did the same. But sleep didn’t come. Instead, a rough but handsome man whose smile lit up his eyes raided my thoughts. Before I knew it, my alarm sounded, and we were both heading up to the deck to meet up with the rest of the gaggle of women and one gay man.
April stood at the front of the bow. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, with a wide-brimmed hat perched on top to keep the wind from blowing it everywhere. She held the itinerary for the weekend, choosing to go over it so there were no questions. “This weekend is all about relaxing and enjoying yourself. I have food being catered in for all meals. Tonight, a DJ will come aboard as well as a handful of people. We will dance till our legs turn to jelly.”
“I guess I missed that part.” I turned to Shelly. If I knew April like I thought I did, then that meant she had hired men to board this craft and give this group a party. I needed that kind of party, like I needed a hole in my head.
Tomorrow, you can spend the day relaxing in the sun. We have the slide and a watercraft to take on the lake, but don’t get too much sun, because tomorrow night,” she drew out tomorrow night like it was some sort of laughy taffy, “will be killer.” Lunch is already set up downstairs. Grab yourself some food, relax, and enjoy. Dinner will be served at 6 p.m. You are on your own till then.
Really! Wow. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t think I have ever gone on a weekend girls’ trip and had hours to enjoy and relax. Like seriously. Never. N.E.V.E.R. I didn’t bring a book, but I had my Kindle on my phone. I could read the new book I started. This is the type of trip I could get down with. Relax under the sun and just chill.
Thirty minutes in, and that was all the silence I was allowed before the music blared and the girls, plus Juan, began to dance on the deck. Aren’t we dancing this evening? Why do we have to blast the music now, I groaned with my inner voice. I was just getting to such a good part in my book. The heroine thought she could trust the main male character, but he either handed her over to the elites who have groomed her since she was a child to be the savior of this world because he is one too, or he is playing a larger game in hopes of saving her to eradicate the evil in this world.
Rhonda, Miranda, Juan, and Roseanne all took shots, bringing me my very own little glass to down the liquid fuel. “Come on,” Juan pouted. “Come dance with me.”
“Fine.” I huffed. I set down my phone on the lounger with the now-empty shot glass and began to dance with Juan. Before I knew it, all the ladies were on the deck laughing and dancing, having a good time. This I could get behind. This was having fun.
Before I knew it, the music was lowered, and Amy clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, you all. Save the rest of your moves for tonight. Time to get ready for dinner and the evening’s fun.”
“Come on and seriously,” was expressed from the group, but they did as the master declared. We all dispersed like rats evading water and went to our cabins. I wasn’t sure Roseanne was going to make it to dinner. I hadn’t seen her eat much at lunch other than the little bottles from her purse. “You okay. You want me to get you some water or something to eat.” I asked her, seriously concerned for the woman.
“No,” she slurred as she staggered down the corridor toward the room, her hands pressed against the walls on either side to keep herself upright.
Shelly side-eyed me, then shook her head. “I’ll go get a bottle of water.”
“Let’s get you settled, and I’ll find some aspirin.” I pushed open the door as I held onto her elbow. The bed mere inches away but working to fit the two of us through the small door without her falling to the floor was a task.
Roseanne slurred, “I need a drink.”
“Honey, I think you have had enough already. You have been at it since we left Amy’s this morning. I think you need to rest your pretty little eyes and lay this evening out.” I tried to reason with her, knowing this was the same woman who had assaulted a police officer last year and was charged with drunk and disorderly conduct. Next thing I knew, she rolled to the side and vomited all over my feet.
Just perfect. “Ewe,” I groaned as Shelly walked in with the water bottle, but turned and walked right out. I yelled to the empty door, “Really! Thanks a lot, Shelly. Can you at least get me a washcloth.” I got no response.
Perfect. “Stay right here. Don’t move.” I told Roseanne. God, I wanted to upchuck all over myself. The smell. Ugh. First, I needed to get this smell off me, otherwise it wouldn’t be good. Juan saw me in the hall.
“Oh my god. Ewe. Gross.” He dramatically pinched his nose with one hand and fanned himself with the other.
“Move out of my way.” I moved down the hall towards the shared bathroom to stick my feet in the shower and began to wash off my sandals and legs, trying hard not to puke all over myself.
This was written by our contributing writer, Shannon Hrimnak.
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