The Cruise

"I can't do this." I was adamant. There was no way that I was going on this cruise. Not at this time in my life.

"But Dad." My son Peter was trying to sound so understanding of my predicament. "I know that it's too soon after Mum died, but you need to understand that we have paid for this cruise, and there can be no refunds."

"Surely the cruise line can understand my situation here. They must have provision for refunds on compassionate grounds, surely." I know, I said surely twice in as many sentences, but you've got to understand that I haven't been myself lately.

"They have refunded Mum's fare, but their rules state that they cannot refund yours. Look at it another way, you need to get out of the house for a while, mix with other people, have fun." The sharp look that I gave him over that one stopped him in his tracks. "Okay, so you might not have fun, but you might meet other people who have experienced similar losses to you. They might even be able to help you. What was that you used to tell us when we were kids; 'you'll never know unless you try'? Well Dad, you had better live up to those words. Get out there and try. Go on the cruise, after all it's not going to cost you anything."

Don't you hate it when your kids can think more logically than you? There was a week until the ship sailed, a week for me to either come up with a watertight excuse that will get their money back for them, or psych myself up and go on this damn cruise. "I'll think about it."

"At least that's a start." Julie his wife said as she gave me a hug. I liked her, she reminded me so much of my Sylvia.

"I'm not making any guarantees, mind you." I lapsed into thought. What would Sylvia have done if I'd died and left her with this decision? Would she have had to decide one way or the other, or would she have just agreed with Peter and Julie and gone, regardless of how she felt? That was Sylvia, always agreeing with other people, never rocking the boat. She told me, way back when we were just thinking about getting married, that she would always agree with me in public, but in private she would tell me what she thought, and we'd discuss it. Probably around half the time, when we had disagreed over something, I had to admit that she was right, and change my stance. Once the decision was made, that was the end of the disagreement.

Vee (short for Sylvia) arrived home from Uni. She was lucky that she inherited her grandmother's looks and not mine, she was a real head-turner. "Hi Gramps, how are you getting on, still drowning in your tear soaked pillow?" It was an in joke between us. She told me after her grandmother died. "I've never seen you cry Gramps, not even when you hit your thumb with a hammer, but you need to cry now." She was studying Psychology and knew all about grief. "Don't be afraid to show how you feel, we'll not think any less of you for it. Cry yourself to sleep if you must, it doesn't matter if your pillow gets saturated, it'll dry out. Bottle up your emotions and you'll never find closure."

Closure seems to be the psycho-babble buzz word when it comes to discussing any traumatic incident in your life. You must find closure and get on with it, move on with your life. I hated to tell her this, but when you have gone through as much as Sylvia and I did in our lives together, closure comes slowly. To forget about the bad times, means that you have to push the good times aside to allow those bad times to surface. It is then, and only then, that you can deal with them. It is only after you've dealt with them that the good times have any meaning.

Our fifty years of marriage hadn't all been plain sailing. Life was pretty tough in the beginning, both of us came from working class families and had gained our place in Uni through either a scholarship or cadetship. She was a Teacher while I was a Mining Engineer. My job took me away from home for long spells at a time, and we wrote to each other constantly. She used to correct my spelling and grammar and write comments about the content, such as; 'Your words do not adequately convey your passion. I know that you love me, so how about finding the right words to tell me that.' or, when I got it right; 'your words have made me wet, I can't wait to see you.' That one had me arranging time off and a trip back home, resulting some nine months later in the arrival of our first son Phillip.

I eventually was transferred to our head office and life became much more settled, and we bought our first house. We spent time developing our garden, which included a vegie patch, a composting system that recycled all the kitchen scraps, as well as the prunings and lawn clippings. It might not have won garden prizes, but it was our own touch of paradise, a place where we could experience peace and solitude, and leave the cares of the world behind us.

The kids got involved in the garden as they grew up, each of the boys had his own vegie garden where he grew things of his own choosing, planning ahead to ensure that the crops were appropriate to the season. Gillian, our daughter, chose instead to have a fernery, so I built her one. Her brothers dubbed it the mosquito farm because the mozzies loved the damp and humid environment. She built up a business propagating ferns for the local nursery, so it only seemed natural that she should become a Botanist. She is in her element working in the tropical rainforest of far north Queensland.

Phillip followed me into Mining Engineering and is currently based at Roxby Downs (look it up). Peter followed his mother into teaching and has done his time in a country school and is back in Sydney. Julie is also a teacher, and they have kids, Vee and twins Jason and Emily.

The cruise, that the kids chipped in and paid for, was our fiftieth wedding anniversary present. Who was to know that a truck would put an end to our dreams of a special holiday?

Sylvia had dropped me off at the local hospital, where I was having a whole range of tests done, prostate examination, you know the finger up the bum, and heart and lung function tests, the latter important because, early on in my career, I had been exposed to asbestos. Early detection for mesothelioma, I was told, will give me the best chance of survival. She then drove Gillian to the airport for her return flight to Cairns. It was on the return journey that her car was hit by a truck. It wasn't the truck driver's fault, Sylvia was on the front row at a set of lights, when a car shunted her from the rear, into the path of a truck coming through the intersection. He had absolutely no chance of stopping. I feel sorry for him. I have spoken to him and let him know that I didn't hold it against him, but that is never enough.

The big day has arrived. Peter and Julie are driving me to the wharf and the floating city that I am supposed to enjoy. I had the feeling that they wanted to make sure that I boarded the ship.

The cruise was to take us, first to Wellington and Auckland in New Zealand, then up to Vanuatu and across to Lombok in Indonesia, then to Darwin, down the west coast stopping at Geraldton and Freemantle. A side trip was planned down to Margaret River for some wine tasting and good food, not that there was anything wrong with ship food, as my burgeoning waistline would soon attest to. After Freemantle we stopped in Adelaide for more good food and wine, around to Hobart, up to Melbourne and home. All in all, we would be at sea for over a fortnight.

I had been told of all the fun things to do on these cruises. Non-stop dining, the casino, evening entertainment, and drinks available 24/7, and all paid for, except the money you lose in the casino of course. What joy, not. I had visions of boredom, of leaning against the rails looking over endless water, nothing but water. The alternative was sitting in my cabin reading a book, and I can do that perfectly well at home.

It was mid-afternoon when the ship cleared the Heads. There was a heavy swell coming through. Not that it bothered the ship, it didn't as much as flinch. It turned to a heading that would take us to Wellington and the approaching night. I wondered if they had found someone to occupy the other bunk in my cabin. I was hoping that it wouldn't be some bloke with disgusting personal habits. Time for dinner. In my best casual clobber and with the obligatory name tag on my lapel, I headed for my designated table. It was uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable. The vacant seat next to me was a reminder that Sylvia should have been there. Some five minutes later, just as we were about to introduce ourselves to each other, a woman slid into Sylvia's chair. "Sorry I'm late, but I got a last minute call about a vacancy on this cruise. I've been fixing up the paperwork until now. I just dumped my bag and came straight down." I glanced briefly at the woman now occupying the chair that Sylvia would have been seated in. My brief glance didn't register anything unusual about her, just a neat and tidy woman in neat and tidy clothes, nothing out of the ordinary. I wonder if she knew why she was seated there.

Simone, the crew member assigned to our table, made us introduce ourselves to our table companions, and when it came to the turn of the woman next to me, she spoke in a clear, but soft voice. "My name is Natalie, and I'm lucky to be here. There was a last minute cancellation, otherwise I would have missed out. Apparently they have a list of people that they can slot in if a cancellation occurs. I was the lucky one."

I caught Simone glance quickly at Natalie, possibly realising that there was going to be a problem. It came to my turn. "Hi, my name is Gordon. I was supposed to be here with my wife, unfortunately she couldn't make it." I left it at that.

"Why couldn't she make it?" Natalie asked.

I was about to tell her that Sylvia couldn't make it because she was fucking dead, when Simone stepped in. "I think that we should leave the why until Gordon is comfortable in telling us, okay?" Her message to the group was 'don't go there, yet.'

After several glasses of wine and some good food, the mood began to relax, for some. I kept thinking that Sylvia would have enjoyed this, probably more than, and definitely more that I am at the moment. "The show is about to start in the auditorium, won't you join me?" Natalie had placed a hand on mine and whispered the invitation. Under the circumstances, it would have been very rude of me to decline. I stood and slid her chair out from under so that she could stand. The others looked at us.

"The show is about to happen, okay guys let's all have fun." Simone said as she stood up.

I stopped to look at the notice that told us which acts were on tonight. There was a cabaret singer, a comedian who looked as if he had been around for a long time, as would his jokes probably have been. The final act was the resident dance band, and I was dreading having to dance. "No sneaking off when the band comes on. I demand a dance, or several. Don't worry, I promise not to put my feet under yours." I threw a glance at her, there was part of a smile, especially her eyes. We found a couple of chairs away from the group. The singer was good. She was probably in her mid to late twenties and was very well put together, but that wasn't the best part. Fifty years ago she would have been known as a 'torch singer'. Her sultry voice worked its way effortlessly through forty minutes of a mix of old and new songs. She justified the applause given by the crowd at the end of her set.

"She was good." I whispered to Natalie, "I could listen to her all night. Now I suppose we'll have to sit through thirty minutes of jokes that he did on his gig on Noah's ark."

"Give him a chance, he might just surprise you."

He walked onto the stage and stood under the spot, peering into the audience. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the spot, he pointed into the audience. "Hi Mum. Don't forget, you promised not to heckle me tonight."

"I will if you're better than your last gig."

"Excuse me a second." He told us. Jumping from the stage he ran through the crowd until he reached a woman seated in the back row. Taking a roll of gaffer tape he placed it over her mouth. "I don't trust you to keep quiet." He said as he turned to come back on stage. "Are there any blondes in the audience?" There were dozens of hands heading skywards. "Real blondes." Most of them were lowered. "That's all right, I've been told that I'm not allowed to tell blonde jokes any more, I would upset too many people. I don't need to worry, there's too few of you blondes to complain. A blonde and a brunette were walking in the park one day. The brunette says to the blonde, 'Oh dear, look at the poor dead birdie.' The blonde looks up in the sky, "Where? I can't see it." This brought a smattering of laughter from the audience. "How does a blonde turn off the light after sex? She shuts the car door." A slightly bigger smattering. "My sister Tiffany is a blonde, at least that's what the bottle told her that she'd be. She went to one of these fancy fashion sales, and was admiring a pair of alligator skin boots. She tried them on, unfortunately, like Cinderella's ugly step-sisters, they didn't fit her. 'What sort of boots are these?' She asked the Salesperson, (I'm not allowed to say Sales Lady, mainly because it was a bloke, although sometimes it's hard to tell with these guys). 'It's alligator.' He told her. 'Are you getting any more?' Tiffany asked. 'No, unfortunately we cannot get any more alligator boots, the US has banned the export of alligator skins so that we can make our own. While we can only get the finished product, we aren't happy with the design choices that are open to us.' 'That's too bad, I really, truly want a pair of these lovely boots.' She was about to walk away when an idea hit her right between the eyes. 'These boots come from America, right?' 'Yes they do.' 'Where abouts in America?' she asked him. 'Either from the Bayou country in Louisiana, or the Everglades in Florida.' She went off and bought herself a ticket on a QANTAS flight to Los Angeles, then a Delta flight to New Orleans. While in New Orleans she visited a gun shop. 'I want to do some alligator hunting, what's the best gun to use?' She asked the sales clerk. 'This here rifle will stop any ole gator dead in his tracks, Ma'am.' 'I'll take it, and I want plenty of bullets, give me two boxes to start with.' Off she went, armed to the teeth with enough firepower to shoot up a high school. A week later she was back in the store to buy more ammunition. "Hell lady, you must be some kind of poor shot if'n you ain't shot a gator by now.' The clerk said. "I've been hitting them okay, just not the right ones.' She told him. So the clerk decided to follow her to see what the problem was. There she was walking along the banks of the swamp, when she spies a big old gator. 'She's gotta be happy with that one, that's sure as hell one big mother fucking gator.' The clerk said to himself as she sighted down the barrel at the alligator, BAM! The noise was deafening. There was barely a twitch from the gator, it just floated there, dead. Tiffany jumps into the water and rolls the alligator over onto its back. 'Fuck,' she sobbed, 'this fucking alligator isn't wearing boots either!'

"Are there any Lawyers here tonight? Is there one here that doesn't want to own up to it? Nah I didn't think you'd fall for that one. Why don't sharks eat Lawyers? Professional courtesy. What do you have when forty Lawyers in a bus drive off a cliff into the sea? Not enough Lawyers. How many Lawyers does it take to change a light bulb? If you've got a minute or two I'll tell you."

"Such number as may be deemed necessary to perform the stated task in a timely and efficient manner within the strictures of the following agreement:"

"Whereas the party of the first part, also known as 'the Lawyer' and the party of the second part also known as 'the light bulb' do hereby and forthwith agree to a transaction wherein the party of the second part (light bulb) shall be removed from the current position as a result of failure to perform previously agreed upon duties i.e. the lighting, elucidation and otherwise illuminating of the area ranging from the front (north) door through the entry way, terminating at an area just inside the primary living area demarcated by the beginning of the carpet, any spillover illumination being at the option of the party of the second part (light bulb) and not required by the aforementioned agreement between the parties. The aforementioned removal transaction shall include but not be limited to the following steps."

"The party of the first part (lawyer) shall, with or without elevation, at his option, by means of a chair, step stool, ladder or any other means of elevation, grasp the party of the second part (light bulb) and rotate the party of the second part (light bulb) in a counter clockwise direction, said direction being non-negotiable. Said grasping and rotation of the party of the second part (light Bulb) shall be undertaken by the party of the first part (lawyer) to maintain the structural integrity of the party of the second part (light bulb), not-withstanding the aforementioned failure of the party of the second part (light bulb) to perform the customary and agreed upon duties. The foregoing notwithstanding however, both parties stipulate that structural failure of the party of the second part (light bulb) may be incidental to the aforementioned failure to perform and in such case the party of the first part (lawyer) shall be held blameless for such structural failure insofar as the agreement concerned so long as the non-negotiable directional codicil (counter-clockwise) is observed by the party of the first part (lawyer) throughout."

"Upon reaching a point where the party of the second part (light bulb) becomes separated from the party of the third part (receptacle), the party of the first part (lawyer) shall have the option of disposing of the party of the second part (light bulb) in a manner consistent with the applicable state, local and federal statutes."

"Once separation and disposal have been achieved, the party of the first part (lawyer) shall have the option of beginning installation of the party of the fourth part (new light bulb). This installation shall occur in a manner consistent with the reverse of the procedures described in step one of this self-same document, being careful to note that the rotation should occur in a clockwise direction, said direction also being non-negotiable, and only until the party of the fourth part (new light bulb) becomes snug in the party of the third part (receptacle) and in fact becomes the party of the second part (light bulb)."

"Note; the above described steps may be performed at the option of the party of the first part (lawyer), by said party of the first part (lawyer), by his or her heirs and assigns, or by any and all persons authorised by him or her to do so, the objective being to produce a level of illumination in the immediate vicinity of the aforementioned front (north) door consistent with the maximization of ingress and revenue for the party of the fifth part, also known as 'The Firm'."

"Phew, I'm glad I got through that one. There was supposed to be a Magician on the show tonight, but unfortunately he had a few problems on his last gig. It was on the Costa Concordia, you've heard about that one I suppose. Anyhow his act wasn't going down well at all, and it was all because of the ship's parrot. The Great Linguini was just hitting his stride, he'd dragged a young lady onto the stage and present her with a spread of cards, all of them face down. 'Now young lady, I want you to pick a card from the deck.' He told her. She chose one. "Now don't let me see it. Memorise the card and place it back in the deck." She did this too. He shuffled the deck and spread them face down onto the table. He then took a stiletto from his pocket and stabbed one of the cards on the table, lifting it he presented the face of the card to the young lady. 'Is this your card?' He asked. 'Yes, how did you do that?' She gushed. 'All the fucking cards are the same you fucking dumb broad.' Screeched the parrot."