Ocean Devotion

The Winds of Change

This summer was undoubtedly the worst of my life, rivaling with ease the one where I'd gotten chicken pox, the one when my leg had been broken and I wasn't allowed near any sort of water, and even the one after my grandpa had passed away when he was supposed to take me on my first international trip. It started with having graduated college with a useless degree, a boat-load of student debt, and no plans for the future. Moving back into my childhood home with my parents who so desperately needed a divorce but would never get one didn't help. Unfortunately, that wasn't even the worst of it. 

This was what led me to the present; sitting on my floor with my best friend, packing for a year-long contract as a stewardess on The Lady Caroline - a massive yacht owned by an exceptionally wealthy CEO. It was finally a chance at adventure, and at leaving the past behind me.

There was a heavy silence in my basement bedroom as Tara placed my pressed uniform shirt in my suitcase and I zipped it up. We sat there for a minute, letting the moment wash over us. Her dark curls tickled my face as I leaned onto her warm shoulder, which smelled like coconut and sunscreen.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered, still looking at the suitcase. 

I nodded into her, not trusting my voice. Heat started welling in my eyes, so I stood, walked to my photo wall and plucked one of the polaroids of us down. My room was a shrine to happier times. It held the nostalgic images of my past, but they had lost all of their appeal since moving back in with my parents two months ago. Now I gazed at the memories like a stranger. I was no longer the girl that painted the room lilac and decorated it with faux-fur throw pillows and maps. That was somebody else.

I sat back down and Tara started fishtailing my hair, her fingers carefully raking through my  dirty- blonde tangles. 

"How'd it go with that guy?" I asked, running my finger over the glossy picture. 

"Oh! It actually went really well. He's surprisingly nerdy, but I'm honestly fine with that. I need a nice boy," she said, and I could hear the smile on her lips.

"Yes, you do."

"Hey. Be nice." She gave my hair a little yank and I swatted at her leg. 

"I'm always nice to you," I said as she tied off the end of the braid. "Here, take this photo and don't you forget me!"

"Why, I wouldn't dare!" She replied matching my ridiculous twenties accent. "But, my love, I've got to go and get ready for my hot date. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

She planted a kiss on the top of my head before climbing onto my bed and squeezing out of the window high on my wall. Then I was alone, with the absolute quiet of my house. Both of my parents were presumably upstairs balancing a mixture of loathing glares and hurtful indifference to one another. They were caught in a cold war. Neither one wanted to pull the trigger that would forever change their lives and marriage.

I settled into my bed and started rereading the information package that carefully recounted all of my responsibilities on deck.

~:~

I awoke the next morning to the wailing  of my phone alarm. It was five-fifty-five and I reached for the device with bleary eyes, trying desperately to shut off the noise. The grey light of dawn filtered through my window and made the lavender walls seem lifeless and cold. I wouldn't miss this place.

After reluctantly rolling off my bed and having a warm shower, I pulled on my newly pressed uniform and pulled my hair into a tight ponytail. The outfit consisted of a starchy white polo shirt and navy shorts that sat oddly on my frame. The shoes were comfortable, black loafers. Not the most flattering look, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that everyone would look equally bad. 

Mom was waiting in the kitchen, already dressed and groomed, flipping pancakes on the stove. No matter how early I woke up, she was always ready and preparing breakfast, and I often wondered if she slept fully clothed with her makeup on. I wondered if she slept at all. Lately, blueish bags rested under her eyes, and deep lines creased her forehead.

For some reason, my mother had made the decision early on that she would act like a fifties housewife. Apparently feminism was lost on her. She kept her bleached hair in curls that she pinned to her head and dressed like we were expecting company. Her eyeliner was always winged, her nails manicured, and if it weren't for the spreading lines on her face, it would be hard to differentiate her now from twenty years ago. 

She pulled the maple syrup out of the microwave and poured the hot amber liquid over a stack of pancakes and berries before handing me the plate. She spooned a small scoop of oatmeal into a bowl for herself.

"Look at you, all dressed up. You're packed, right?" I nodded, ignoring the false cheer in her voice that did little to mask the anxiety on her face. "Well, you look just wonderful. And you're going to have so much fun on your trip. Just promise me you'll be careful." I nodded again.

"Where's dad?" I asked through bites.

"Upstairs. He'll come down when it's time to go. It feels like we just got you back... but it's good. It'll be so good for you." 

Dad was driving me to the pier just outside New York city, so I'm sure he was giving Mom some time to say goodbye. They wouldn't be able to stand each other for the two hour car ride to the city, even if this was the last time they'd see their daughter for a year.

We made small talk for a half hour while I ate. Mom fixed my hair with pins and spray and brushed my cheeks with a healthy coating of blush, and then it was over. I grabbed my suitcase from downstairs and set it by the door. I folded my coat over my arm and kissed my Mom on the cheek. Tara rushed over and gave me a million kisses and hugs and told me about her fabulous night with the boy and said that I'd better text her all the time. Last night, nerves had gnawed at the pit of my stomach, but now I was just excited. I was ready to be gone.

Just as Tara was leaving, Dad came downstairs and loaded my suitcase into the car. He pulled on his light jacket and slipped on his boots. I took one last look at the house I grew up in, soaking in all the details; the yellow walls that once looked happy, the worn furniture, the scratched hardwood from our old dog, my Mom with tears glistening in her eyes.

"It's time to go."