Cruise Ship Christmas: A Holiday Short Read online

  Cruise Ship Christmas

  M.F. Lorson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Also by M.F. Lorson

  About M.F. Lorson

  Chapter One

  You know those moms from sitcoms who speak with Boston accents and force feed their full-grown children lasagna? That was my Mom. Except this year she skipped the food and went straight to, “Why aren’t you married yet?”

  It was four days ‘til Christmas and she was making her usual rounds, calling each child to ensure they weren’t going to screw up the holiday. As the youngest, I got the last call, which usually meant she was exhausted from telling my brothers how to live their lives and could hold off on meddling in mine. This year, however, she was on a real tear.

  After twenty-five minutes of, your father did this, your father did that, she ever so casually added, “By the way. I invited Nicholas for Christmas dinner.”

  Even though I knew it was coming, hearing his name after months of pretending he didn’t exist, turned my stomach into a tornado. I picked up a red and white, polka dot bikini and tossed it in the open suitcase on my bed. Maybe keeping my hands busy would help keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t allowed to reveal that Dad had already tipped me off.

  “He is practically family,” she justified when I gave no response.

  “Practically family, definitely my ex,” I replied, violently pulling socks from my drawer to accompany my swimsuit.

  Mom let out a heavy sigh. “Ex is such a bitter term, Emily. I wish you wouldn’t use it.”

  If she were anyone else, I would have laughed out loud. There was a reason ex was a bitter term, and the reason was, no one in the history of the world ever liked their ex! (That’s not an official stat.)

  “Ex is what you call someone you aren’t dating anymore,” I reminded.

  My roommate Amy had just rounded the corner of our hallway. She froze mid-stride at the sound of the word ex, then awkwardly stumbled backward and out of my vision. As if dumped was a thing you could catch.

  “You should have seen him at the grocery store though,” continued Mom. “His cart was full of frozen food and canned cranberry sauce. He had a coupon for a frozen turkey, but they were sold out.”

  Tragic, I thought, though the idea brought a smile to my lips. One of the few solaces I had from our breakup was the knowledge that Nicholas’ idea of cooking was preheating the oven. Maybe if I were lucky, he would starve before I had to see him again.

  “I know how you feel, but you’ll just have to get along. Who knows, maybe a little time together after the separation will help you re-kindle—”

  I had to put a stop to this before she got too invested in the idea. “There will be no kindling of any kind,” I interrupted.

  “We’ll see,” I could practically hear her smirking through the phone.

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t very well let her continue thinking I was coming home for Christmas when I had a cruise ship ticket in my pocket and a half-packed suitcase laid out in front of me.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there won’t be an opportunity for any of what you’re talking about because I’m not coming home this year.” I rushed out the last part. Like saying it faster made my mother less likely to explode.

  “Not coming home?” she gasped.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I’d gone over this a dozen times in my head. I just had to say it the way I had rehearsed. “I’m sorry, Mom, but an opportunity came up and…”

  “You met someone?” She asked. The only opportunities worth mentioning were the kind that involved a potential love interest. “If he’s taking you to meet his family. You two can do Christmas with us next year.”

  I thought about responding with, but then what will dear Nicholas do? Eat canned cranberries and tinned ham? But I didn’t push it. Not when I knew she was about to be severely disappointed.

  “No, Mom. I haven’t met anyone.”

  “Oh,” she replied, her voice quiet and defeated.

  “I’m going on a cruise. The tickets were a work thing. All expenses paid,” She loved a good deal.

  “That sounds nice, honey. But you can go on a cruise at any time. It’s Christmas, and—”

  “It’s a singles cruise,” I blurted. “Singles, looking for other singles. A husband factory, I swear it.” There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

  “Middleville Monthly is sending you on a singles cruise?” she sounded skeptical and hopeful all at once. I pounced on the hopeful.

  “Oh yeah,” I lied, holding a sparkly gold dress up against me in front of the mirror. “They want a piece on traveling during the holidays, and the singles cruise was the only one that wasn’t booked.”

  “I guess that could be good,” she replied, a little perk returning to her voice.

  It was only a partial lie. My work really was funding the trip. It just wasn’t technically a singles cruise, and I wasn’t going on assignment. The truth was, the lady in the cubicle next to mine won it at our holiday gift exchange but had too many babies at home to be going anywhere for a week. She sadly traded me for a free Costco membership and gift-card.

  Sensing Mom winding up to ask more questions, I made up a quick excuse about needing to get my eyebrows waxed before my big manhunt. A detail that left her just pleased enough to hang up without a fight. Little did she know my only plan this weekend was to get daquiried up while cute pool boys circled me with appetizer menus.

  Did cruises really work like that? Probably not, but in the spirit of Christmas, I chose to believe.

  Chapter Two

  It was a three-hour drive from my apartment to Miami, where the ship boarded. Three hours was just enough time for me to re-run all the reasons re-kindling things with Nicholas was never going to happen.

  There was the obvious. He dumped me last Christmas during Bingo night at the Eagles Lodge. As if this wasn’t embarassing enough, he managed to do it two feet from a live mic. I’ll never forget the looks on all those blue-haired ladies' faces.

  “G-68.”

  “I think we should see other people.”

  “B4.”

  “I’ve already started.”

  Insert collective gasp from the crowd.

  But there were also the not-so-obvious things. Things like the time he forgot to call to tell me he had arrived safely after flying to New Dheli, or how sometimes when he kissed me, it felt like making out with an inanimate object. When I really thought about it, there was nothing to miss about Nicholas. It was the feeling and not thinking, that got me in trouble.

  I parked in the extended-stay lot and wheeled my luggage toward the ship. It was exactly like the brochure depicted. Massive and white, with many tiny windows. Once I had been through the security line a lady in a crisp white uniform handed me a map of the ship.

  “You’ll be in 406,” she said. Then she smiled real big and added, “Close to the gift shop.”

  I immediately became concerned that this cruise was going to be a disappointment. Who finds joy in rooming near the gift shop? Did she think I would become a frequent shopper? Leaving the ship wearing all Wonder Cruise attire, a snakeskin bag over one arm, and an overpriced beachball in the other?

  Maybe I was wearing a sad-lady outfit. I made a mental note to change as soon as I found my cabin. If I found my cabin. It was amazing how big that l
ittle map got when you unfolded it.

  “The gift shop,” came a deep voice. “Practically oceanfront property.”

  “I think technically, it is all oceanfront property,” I answered, looking up from the now accordion length map in my hands.

  The man speaking was rolling with purpose a small piece of luggage—no map consulting for him. I took in his rich tan, clean white T-shirt, and holiday board shorts. It appeared I had a serial cruiser on my hands. The perfect person to ask for help in finding my room. It didn’t hurt that his eyes were all dreamy and his hair, jet black and wavy, reminded me of Eric from The Little Mermaid.

  “Forget the map,” he said with a relaxed smile. “They overcomplicate those things anyway. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and circle ‘til you find your room number. Your hall will have a theme, so once you find it. You won’t be able to forget it. Even if you really want to,” he said, then winked and continued down the hallway.

  I would have offered a thank you—and possibly my number—but he was already hurrying past me in pursuit of his cabin. I noticed his luggage was embroidered with the Wonder company logo, confirming my serial cruiser theory. If Mom were here, she would have scolded me for not chasing him down the hallway. “A man who cruises often must be from money,” she might say. I really needed to block her voice from my head or I was going to spend the whole trip feeling guilty about not being home.

  The man in the silly shorts was right. My hall did have a theme, and regardless of how many daiquiris I managed to consume, it was going to be difficult to forget Snow Globe City. A woman who looked to be about my age, with bushy red hair and a gold, faux leather fanny pack stood in front of her cabin door, admiring the snowy scene that sat on the end table beside her cabin.

  “I got Milwaukee,” she said excitedly. “What did you get?”

  I scanned the hall for number 406. I was three doors down from her. Reluctantly I picked up my globe and peered at the landmark inside. I wrinkled my nose.

  “I got those arches from Utah….Does it even snow there?”

  She shrugged, “Beats me. I’m from Florida, born and raised. How about you?”

  “Ditto,” I answered, watching as tiny artificial snowflakes settled on the edges of Arches National Park. She continued down the hall, examining each globe and loudly commenting to herself, I hoped it was to herself anyway. I couldn’t exactly picture the two of us becoming cruising buddies. There were hoops in her ears that I was pretty sure had been there since 1994. I could practically hear the shriek of joy that probably came from her lips when she first learned fanny packs were back in style.

  I scanned the keycard to my door and stepped inside. You did not pay for your room, I reminded myself as I took in my lackluster surroundings. There was a twin bed, a built-in dresser, and what I thought was a closet but was pleasantly surprised to discover was actually a bathroom. My knees just about touched the door when I sat on the toilet, but at least I didn’t have to share a restroom with all of Snow Globe City.

  I plopped down on my twin bed and reached for the large envelope resting on my pillow. Wonder Cruise was embossed across the front. I pulled out the contents — a three-page itinerary and a handwritten note on company stationery.

  Dear Ms. Hart,

  We are so happy you chose to spend your holidays with our team here at Wonder Cruises. Inside you will find your weekend itinerary. All activities are optional, but we encourage you to experience everything the ship has to offer, starting with our departure party. Meet us on the center deck as we pop the cork on our complimentary champagne and wave goodbye to land.

  Happy holidays,

  Your Wonder Crew

  Free champagne was all the bait I needed. Plus, if I were lucky, maybe Mr. Holiday Shorts himself would be there. Nicholas and I had been an item from junior year of high school all the way up until my 28th bingo Christmas. I’d never had a spring break boyfriend or an unanticipated mistletoe kiss. Who was to say Emily Hart wasn’t the kind of girl to thrive in a no-strings-attached-holiday-romance-at-sea?

  Chapter Three

  A party with champagne felt like the perfect opportunity to break out that gold dress. I paired it with strappy sandals and just enough heel to make my mother proud. The plan was to hit the party solo, but as I clicked the door to my cabin shut, the redhead across the way was opening hers.

  “Oh, good,” she cried. “I hate to go to these things alone.” I gave a polite smile and followed her down the hall. The last time I blindly followed strangers around was my first week of college. Then it had resulted in a full term of being attached by the hip to a needy girl from my chem class. At least this time, there was only a week of artificial friendship to endure. The redhead, who introduced herself as Kathy, bubbled on and on about the cruise, as we wound through three hallways and two elevator rides to find the center deck.

  “This is only my second cruise,” said Kathy, “but already I can tell it’s better than the first. Free champagne before you even leave the port!”

  She grabbed two long-stemmed glasses off the tray of the first server to cross our path and handed one to me. I took a long bubbly sip and scanned the crowd for the man in the holiday shorts. I had all but given up when a hand tapped my shoulder from behind.

  “I see you found your room.”

  I turned to face him with my best attempt at a sexy smile. It had been a long time since I attempted to woo a guy, but the dress and the shoes had me feeling extra confident.

  “That’s right. Thanks to your advice, it only took me ten minutes to find Snow Globe City.”

  He tossed his head back in a full laugh. “I warned you the theme would be memorable. Who is your friend?” he asked, glancing at Kathy.

  Her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead, giving me the distinct impression that it had been a while since she wooed a man as well.

  “This is Kathy,” I said, “She’s also from Snow Globe City.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kathy,” he said politely, extending his hand to shake hers. For a moment there I was actually jealous that Kathy was touching palms with my imaginary cruise ship boyfriend. Hello? Captain Handsome and I were supposed to have one of those eyes-meet-instalove moments. How dare he be polite to other strangers!

  The three of us turned our attention to the stage in the center of the deck, where a man in a captain’s hat was greeting the crowd.

  “I’m Baker, by the way,” said the cutie beside me, tipping his head toward mine.

  “Emily Hart,” I replied, his adorable first name swimming around in my brain like the bubbles floating in my champagne glass. I was a moment away from drumming up the courage to ask him why he was spending Christmas alone on a cruise ship when Elton John’s, “Step into Christmas” burst through the speakers.

  “Here goes nothing,” mumbled Baker. He downed his glass of champagne and danced his way through the crowd toward the stage.

  “What’s happening?” whispered Kathy.

  “I have no idea,” I answered. Watching, bewildered as Baker and a handful of other men and women throughout the crowd were suddenly transformed into broadway esque dancers, sliding and gliding their way toward center stage.

  “Oh!” cried Kathy, realization dawning on her face. “They’re part of the show.”

  “Show?”

  “Yeah,” she said, giggling a little, possibly from the champagne or possibly from the dizzying effect of gyrating hips. “They did something like this on my last cruise too. But the staff wasn’t nearly as cute.”

  “Oh,” I answered, and then a bigger, “Ohhhhh,” once I realized what this meant.

  You know when you see a cute dress on a discount rack, and you think, I can hardly believe my eyes, how can it be just $9.99 and in my size too? But then you see the tag and realize someone set it in the wrong place; it’s actually three times the price and not your size at all? That’s how I felt when I realized Baker was a member of the Wonder Crew.

  Chapter Four

>   Me and my new best friend Kathy found a sweet spot on the upper deck to catch a tan. It was arguably the best place on the ship, high enough to drown out the sound of people splashing in the pool, yet within close proximity to the snack bar. We were each three licorice whips into a midmorning coma when Baker crouched between our two lounge chairs.

  “You disappeared last night after the opening number.”

  I tried to look cool and indifferent as I lowered my chin and peeked at him over the top of my hipster, cat-eye sunglasses. I was surprised he noticed my departure at all, what with his many hip-shaking duties.

  “You looked for me?” I asked.

  “I did.” He replied, that big Cheshire grin of his making my pulse quicken. “I spent most of my evening wondering if it was my dancing that scared you away or the fact that they ran out of the complimentary champagne before 9pm.”

  I wanted to laugh. After all, Baker was funny. Ordinarily, when a funny, handsome guy made a joke, I was giggling like a chipmunk long before he got to the punchline. But this was different. I had to remind myself that Baker wasn’t talking to Kathy and me because he wanted to. It was his job to. He was basically the Johnny Castle of this ship, and I did not want to be like those old ladies in Dirty Dancing, making inappropriate passes at hot staffers.

  I sighed. “It’s alright. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what?” asked Baker, his smile beginning to falter.

  “Flirt with me,” I said with another sigh. “I get that you’re paid to. I didn’t get it last night. But now that I do, consider yourself free of this burden.” I flapped my arms like a bird to indicate just how free he really was.