Love Boat
I originally wrote this short story(flash fiction) for a writing prompt on WritersDigest Forum.
If I were Tolstoy, I would summarize my marriage like this: All happy marriages are alike; each unhappy marriage is unhappy in its own way.
Our happiness was like everyone else’s: big house, decent jobs, weekend parties, international holidays, mid-thirties with good health. But happiness, like everything else, had an expiry date in our marriage. Only we did not know until it actually expired. First the attraction, then slowly love, and then finally happiness.
I can’t believe that’s where I ended up after three years of marriage, and five years of dating the only woman whom I ever loved. Well, I am not the one to blame everything on her. We fell apart before we realized we were falling apart. And then there was no way to piece the complex puzzle together. We were left with a lot of broken and missing pieces.
For some reason, she always wanted to go on a cruise. That’s probably something I would never have done even if I lived with her for the rest of my life. There are things that I believe are hardwired into our brains; especially those unreasonable fears.
Ironically, three months after our divorce, going on a cruise felt like my only option to forget and move on. I had no idea why. I did not tell anyone. And there I was on this giant ship that reminded me of nothing comforting than the tragic Titanic.
It was my first day, and it took me only a few minutes to realize how pathetic that one month was going to be. The only thing that I wanted to forget was love. But it was everywhere around me, in the air, and in the sea.
People were lost in time and space. Kissing, hugging, dancing, partying, smiling, laughing, crying. Everything and everyone in that ship reminded me of nothing but our failed love. But there was no looking back. We had already sailed long enough, and all I could see around the ship was the blue water which reminded me of her crystal blue eyes.
What was I going to do for a month? If I were Papa, I would have probably started writing a novel about my experience: A Lost Man and the Sea.
I sat in the bar, and for a moment it made me forget I was actually on a cruise. I consciously assumed I was in some bar in San Francisco. Well, why San Francisco? That’s where I lived for all my life. Too close to the sea, but too afraid of going into it.
Nobody would have noticed my presence if I weren’t reading “Moby Dick” under that dim light and loud noise. Why would I do that? I don’t know. All my life I wanted to just read books and do nothing else. All my life, I also wanted to write a book. One month to read now, but writing I never know. I carried all the books I ever wanted to read and the books I ever wanted to re-read — like the one I was holding in my hands. Who would read it twice? I ask, who wouldn’t.
That’s when I heard a beautiful voice that made all the noise around me go on mute. It’s like those scenes in movies where they suddenly take out all the sound.
“Hello,” she said. I heard the voice first and then saw her as I lifted my head up.
I stood up from the chair I was sitting on for an hour, mostly to relax my aching butt, and also out of that natural instinct when we see a beautiful woman in a place where we least expect.
“Hello,” I said and immediately hid the book behind me. It was embarrassing, which for some reason, I never thought about until then. A couple of drinks probably did the trick.
We shook hands, exchanged names, and exchanged a few man-meets-woman glances. The loud music was still muted. Luckily, the man who sat beside me just walked away. So she settled into that chair, and I into the same chair where I was sitting moments ago. I was still hiding the book.
“I saw you reading a book? What book was it?” she asked, making me face my embarrassment head on.
“Oh, never mind. I was alone, and I did not know how to kill time. I am not that weird, you know,” I said as if that would make me look cooler than what she probably thought I was. A man reading a book in a bar, that too, on a cruise ship.
“That’s totally fine, in fact, I was reading a book too. So no need to be, you know…” she said. I cut her sentence in the middle as I pulled the book from the bottom and handed it to her.
“You are kidding me, right? Moby Dick. Really!” she said.
I did not say anything for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what she thought about me. Then she excused herself and left.
I watched her walk towards the other end of the bar as she shouldered a lot of love birds lost in eternal embraces. I doubt if anyone even noticed her.
She came back in a few minutes, and she showed me her book. She was reading the same book too. That’s when I realized why she was so surprised.
I laughed, and that eased me a bit as I was no more embarrassed.
We talked about everything. Books, life, death, god, sea, and everything else. Except love. Except our pasts. I felt like I never existed before I met her. For some reason, we never asked each other about our past. Maybe her past was like mine.
In a few hours, half the crowds left the bar. And the other half were drunken enough not to notice us and our books. After midnight, we said goodbyes and decided to meet in the bar next day evening. To do some reading and to do some talking.
I went back to my room. For a long time, I could not sleep. The long-buried feelings of getting attracted to a woman overwhelmed the alcohol in my body. Finally, for the first time after our divorce, I felt alive. As alive as I was when the first time I met Sarah, my ex-wife, that is.
I didn’t know when I slept, but when I woke up it was well past noon. I ate lunch and waited for the evening. It did not matter if it was evening or morning on the ship. Only my phone would know it. I never cared.
I went to the bar at six in the evening as we planned and waited there. Unlike last time, I dressed like a gentleman with whatever clothes I had carried with me. I started reading the same book, but I was not really trying to understand anything.
Probably after I read fifty pages, I started looking for her in the bar. I did not find her anywhere. I waited for a few more hours. I did not know anything more than her name. Emily or Amy or was it Anna? One of those. I did not want to check with anyone as I thought I would meet her if not that day, the next day, or the day after. I had four weeks, and there weren’t any other bars on the ship.
I went back to my room after I ate a sandwich.
I opened my laptop and checked my email. Something I rarely checked in those days.
The first mail was from the guest whom I rented my house for a month. I listed my home on the Internet. Not for making money, but I was pestered by a new neighbor who was minting money by renting his house. I just wanted to please him and also wanted to try something new, just for the sake of doing something new.
Subject: There is a bottle of pills on the table with a tag “do not forget”
I did not open the mail. I knew what I forgot. Then I realized why that woman did not show up. Damn those pills. How did I forget? But in a few moments, I realized, maybe it’s for good. Perhaps, I will meet more interesting people than I would ever meet in my real life. Maybe, I will write a book about this. Or maybe not.
I closed the laptop and drifted off into sleep. I wasn’t sure whom I was going to meet the next day.
Thank you and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I would love to hear your comments/feedback.
