Honeymoon
don't rock that boat
It was the first time they fought on a cruise ship, and also the only time they were on a cruise ship.
“Why do you have to take everything so personally?”
Josh slammed the dresser drawer, nearly catching the tips of his fingers as it closed with a bang. He had no reason to search the drawer; he was dressed and ready to go, had been for nearly an hour.
But Nora was still in the bathroom, whining about nausea.
Again.
While the toilet constantly flushed and his wife alternated between crying and hiccuping, Josh’s throat burned with stomach acid. How could it not, when the ongoing reminders of Nora’s morning sickness was, well, ongoing.
He didn’t have to imagine what was going on in the bathroom, at all hours of the day and night, because he had walked in on her before. He had to pee, and where else was he going to go?
After that, he didn’t mind walking down the hall to the public restroom, or at least he didn’t mind too much, considering the alternative. Why didn’t the ship have state rooms with two bathrooms?
If they did, Josh was sure such rooms would be out of their price range. Once the baby came, there would be even less money in his bank account, with diapers and bottles and whatever else babies needed sucking it dry. At least the kid wouldn’t ruin the romance, because that ship had sailed.
He smiled at his unintended joke. Nora might have found it amusing, but she was too busy drowning in the toilet.
“There’s no good reason I should be stuck in here, missing all the fun. This cruise was an expensive gift, Nora, and your parents wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
His new wife moaned behind the bathroom door and he lifted his hand to wave away her protest, but she couldn’t see it so he let it fall. She should have taken time off work right after the wedding so they could have taken their honeymoon sooner; waiting three months meant now there was a baby in the way.
Just practice for the future, Josh considered with a sigh. Nora said she couldn’t leave work any earlier because there was a threat of layoffs, and while he needed her income, he figured there must have been a way around it, if she was smart enough to figure it out.
“Don’t leave me here alone,” she garbled, her voice barely audible. “Please, no.”
Josh slipped on his shoes and left the room, slamming the door behind him. This cruise line was well known for its casinos, so he stopped in the grand room with flashing lights and busy card tables to try his luck.
A few hundred dollars lighter, he wandered into one of the bars, scratching his chin at his bad luck.
“Lame wife, lame luck,” he muttered as a woman with long, curling blonde hair slid her hand in the crook of his elbow. She smelled of the ocean, salty and brisk, and he wondered if she had been swimming in the ship’s pool. He leaned close to her and grinned, licking the rum and Coke from his lips.
“You look like a mermaid,” he shouted over the loud music, wishing he had chosen another bar, one with more ambiance and less noise. This woman was hot, and Nora would never know.
“Maybe I am one,” she whispered, and he recoiled at the fishy stink of her breath.
But he held his smile and wondered if he could offer her a mint in an inoffensive way.
“Sure, sure. Who believes in that stuff?”
Josh patted her firm, round rear end and let his hand rest on the tight flesh. A churning stillness wrapped around his chest, and he choked on the absence of air. What in the hell. . .
The woman shoved him away and he fell from his bar stool, slamming his hip into the hard tile floor. The room was full of people, but when she walked away, no one offered to help him up.
He watched her hips twitch back and forth, like the swaying of the waves of the ocean surrounding them, rocking them all into a sleepy stupor. When he rubbed his eyes, she was gone.
The walk back to his room was longer than he remembered, and his body ached with the impact of the fall. Nora would feel sorry for him, but only until he told her about the money. Maybe he didn’t have to.
While the room was as dark as he had left it, it was quiet now. The bed was unmade, blankets and sheets rumpled from Nora’s fitful sleep. But the bathroom door was open, and she was gone.
This flash fiction is a response to Scoot’s Flash Fiction prompt, All Wise Men Fear.
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