Touching Paradise

by Cleo Peitsche

  She looked at the picture again, and her giggles subsided. Other than the shark heads, the guys were hot. Broad shoulders. Muscles on top of muscles. Yum.

  Then she started crying.

  Chapter 2

  Several hours later, Monroe woke to pounding on her door. Her nose was congested, her mouth cottony. When she sat up, the veins in her head throbbed. Dehydrated.

  “I know you’re in there!” Tara sang out. One of Monroe’s neighbors thumped the wall, and Monroe dragged herself out of bed.

  She eased open the door, but Tara pushed her way in. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked Monroe.

  “Too late to be screaming in the hallway,” Monroe said as she closed the door.

  “Time for you to tell me what the hell happened. The reception is over. Spit it out.”

  “Thomas had to work,” she said with a shrug that was supposed to be casual.

  Tara nodded. “And?”

  “He’s up for a promotion.”

  “And?”

  Monroe shrugged again.

  “So he dumped you?”

  “He didn’t dump me. By the way, isn’t this badgering the witness? Can you get disbarred?”

  Tara wasn’t having it. “Then what?”

  Seconds ticked painfully by. Finally Monroe said, “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

  “Nope.”

  Maybe it was because she was half asleep, or maybe she knew Tara would get the story in the end, but Monroe said, “He volunteered to take the extra load. Volunteered. He didn’t have to work.”

  “Oh, shit. That’s awful.”

  “Yeah.” And that wasn’t the half of it, but she didn’t feel like sharing more. She filled a glass of water from the bathroom faucet and drank it, then poured herself a second one. The throbbing in her temples receded.

  “So you dumped him,” Tara said.

  “Well, no. We fought about it for an hour last night.”

  Terrible things had been said. Awful things that made her face burn with shame.

  Oh, Thomas had given as good as he got. Better, even. If half the things he’d said were true…

  “I think he didn’t want to come.” Monroe squeezed the words out quickly, forcing them around the lump in her throat.

  “He’s a dick,” Tara said crisply.

  “Wait… you really think he’s a dick, or you’re just being a good friend? Or you’re drunk—”

  “I can’t fucking stand him.”

  Monroe suddenly felt completely awake. She swallowed hard. “Why?”

  Tara pursed her lips and exhaled. “He’s smug. Condescending. And he wears way too much cologne.”

  “He’s not that bad,” Monroe insisted. “He’s really smart, and definitely ambitious, and he takes good care of himself.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “That thing where you pretend that the guy you’re dating is exactly what you want. You’re twenty-six! You need to be pickier. Let me tell you what you want. A smart man who’s confident but not arrogant. You want someone who won’t play games. You want your intellectual and emotional equal, but you want magic, too.”

  Now it was Monroe’s turn to roll her eyes, but she felt hysteria mounting, and she shoved it firmly down. “Everyone wants that,” she said, her voice strained. “Can we change the subject? Please.”

  “No.” Tara sat on the edge of Monroe’s bed.

  Monroe stared in surprise at her best friend. “No?”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I told you already. We fought.”

  “And? Come on, Monroe. I know there’s more to the story.”

  “You know how fights are.”

  “I don’t know you in a fight. You never fight.”

  “Apparently I do.”

  Tara kicked off her heels and swung her feet up on the bed. “This is me getting comfortable. I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

  Unfortunately, Monroe believed her. She sighed, then lowered herself to the edge of the bed. “During the fight, certain things came out.”

  Murder flashed in Tara’s eyes. “For example?”

  “Apparently, I’m boring,” she whispered. “I think he meant it, cause when he said it, he got this look like ‘whoops.’ Like it was something he believed but didn’t want to say.” She had to blink her eyes to keep the tears at bay.

  “Unbelievable.” Tara’s fingers wrapped around hers. “Listen to me. Thomas is a dick. You’re shy, not boring. You’re smart and you have that awesome subversive humor and you’re definitely one of the most interesting people I know. You’re amazing. Ok?” She strangled Monroe’s hand until she nodded in agreement.

  “He’s been taking you for granted almost since the beginning. I’m glad things came to a head.” Tara popped off the bed. “Forgive the timing, but I need to use your bathroom.”

  Monroe dug out her phone. Thomas hadn’t called or emailed. He might have texted; texting didn’t seem reliable on the island. But he wouldn’t “get points” for a text.

  She remembered the disgust on his face as he’d yelled, “You get no points for adventure. You’re lucky you’re kinda hot, because you’re boring.”

  That had cut to the quick. She’d skipped right over the kinda hot. “I’m boring? You’re the one who has Harvard-branded everything. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is? You look like a billboard with glasses. That’s why I try to arrange dates so you’re coming straight from work, but half the time you’re wearing a Harvard tie!”

  “I bleed crimson!” he’d screamed.

  “It’s pathetic. And your point system blows!” Then she’d stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  That hadn’t stopped the fight though.

  Was he right? Had he blurted out the truth that no one else dared tell her?

  On the other hand, he’d also called her needy, and that was the furthest thing from the truth. How many times had she bitten her tongue when he canceled a date at the last minute? It wasn’t easy in the investment banking industry these days, and she’d been understanding. Look where that had gotten her. No wonder he took her for granted.

  Tara came out of the bathroom. “Think I drank too much,” she said as she collected her shoes. “I’d better get to bed. Are you alright?”

  “I feel better.” The most awful fight of her life, and she’d had to pretend nothing was wrong. That had made everything worse. Later, she and Tara would dissect what was said in detail, of course, but she’d needed to get it off her chest. “A lot better, actually. Thanks.”

  Tara nodded and quickly left the room.

  Monroe’s stomach growled, and she realized she was starving. She hadn’t taken a single bite of her dinner… hadn’t eaten anything except a bag of pretzels since the fight.

  She switched on the lamp next to her carryon bags and caught a horrifying glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her waist-length hair, light brown with blonde highlights, was completely mussed. The side of her face was red, a crease running from her mouth to her nose.

  She yanked her hair into a ponytail and changed into jeans and a tee, then went looking for food.

  The lobby was deserted, all the hotel’s restaurants closed. Monroe stood looking at the darkened rooms.

  There was a quiet noise, and she turned to see a composed woman in her sixties walk behind the receptionist’s desk. “Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

  “Are any nearby restaurants still open?”

  The clerk twisted her head to consult the clock on the wall behind her. “Room service shuts down in ten minutes.” The phone she set on the counter looked older than Monroe. “I can call in the order if you like.”

  “Grilled cheese?”

  “Of course. Room number?”

  “Is it possible for me to eat over there?” She pointed at the deserted breakfast buffet room. The clerk nodded, and Monroe went to choose a table.

  She turned
on the ancient overhead television and sat, pulling up another chair to prop up her aching feet.

  “Do you want to transform your life?” a pantsuited woman boomed on the screen. She wore a mauve blouse with a glittering peacock brooch at the neck. Her fingernails were the shiniest Monroe had ever seen. “Do you want a better life? Let me hear you!”

  “Yes!” the audience responded.

  “Then what do you have to do?” the woman asked, her rings flashing as she gripped her microphone tighter.

  “Change our minds!”

  “That’s right!” the woman enthused. “Change your mind to transform your life. We dream big. We want careers and families and to be healthy. You know exactly what I’m talking about, amiright? Am I?”

  The camera panned over the audience, showing women—for the audience was 98% female—nodding their heads. Monroe wished Tara were there. They loved to poke fun at these kinds of shows. A wave of loneliness washed over her.

  “Change Your Mind to Transform Your Life… Order Now, Pay Later” flashed across the bottom of the screen, complete with a book and DVD case adorned with a perkier, blonder version of the speaker.

  Monroe sighed and glanced at the clock.

  “And what is the secret? Being aware of opportunity knocking. Being open to change. Making your own opportunities. You’re wondering how to do that. Well, guess what? You don’t have to worry because I am here today to break it down for you.”

  Monroe laughed quietly as she turned down the volume. Great sales pitch. Teach people how to be spontaneous by prescribing a detailed plan. Tara would have been having a field day.

  A skinny man in a long, crooked apron cautiously peeked his head into the breakfast area. He gripped a large plate with both hands. Golden onion rings threatened to spill over the sides. The sandwich was enormous, a triple-decker with fat slices of bread and slivers of tomato squeezing melted layers of cheese.

  “You’re my hero!” Monroe said, smiling, and the man placed the plate in front of her. She charged it to her room and left a big tip to make up for the late-night order.

  He glanced up at the television. “My wife has that book.”

  “Really?”

  He smiled. “It’s a catchy phrase, no? She tells everyone about it. She’s the kind of woman who likes to believe in things.”

  “Does she believe in the shark warriors, too?” Monroe asked with a laugh.

  The man’s face went serious. “There hasn’t been a fatal shark attack near this island in over a hundred years. The warriors keep us safe.”

  Monroe’s smile froze. “You don’t think it’s because overfishing has depleted the shark population?”

  “There are mysteries in this life that we can never know.” His expression softened as if he felt sorry for her.

  “I’m… sure you’re right. The food looks great.” She hooked an onion ring on her finger, then dunked it in ketchup.

  “Enjoy your vacation,” he said formally, seeming to remember that she was a guest.

  She wished him a good night as he walked out, then she took a big bite into the gooey sandwich. It probably wasn’t half as good as her untouched gourmet dinner at Linda’s wedding reception, but it was exactly what she needed. Comfort food. The bread was perfectly toasted, lightly browned and crunchy. She devoured the sandwich, then shoveled the spicy coleslaw into her mouth, alternating bites with the salty, greasy onion rings. When every last crumb was gone, she wiped her fingers clean and slumped back in the chair, relaxed.

  That was probably two days’ worth of calories, but she was on vacation. Only boring people stuck to diets on vacation. She wrinkled her nose. Did that count as changing her mind? Eating artery-clogging food was unlikely to transform her life in any positive way. Except she did feel better, so maybe that counted. She nodded. That definitely counted.

  Change your mind to transform your life. Or was it the other way around? Transform your mind…? She didn’t remember. And it didn’t matter because it was all self-affirmation nonsense. It would never work.

  Back in the room, her thoughts turned to Thomas again. Kinda hot. Jerk.

  She was taller than average, a little heavier than average. She had a definite hourglass shape that had embarrassed her when she hit puberty before her friends. Her legs were strong, thanks to spinning class. No one would allow her within a hundred feet of a fashion runway, but she wasn’t a troll, either. She couldn’t really blame her bad luck with men on her looks.

  New York was the problem. The male/female ratio sucked. There was a reason Linda had met Marco during a Chicago business trip.

  Maybe she’d meet someone after the boat outing and have a sexy dirty nasty fling before going home exhausted but wiser. Ignore phone calls from Thomas, then pretend not to recognize him if they passed on the street. Thomas? Sorry, your name doesn’t ring a bell. Where did you say we met? She smiled, imagining holding up her hand, thumb and forefinger only centimeters apart. I’m getting a little memory now, a teeny, tiny one…

  She snorted out a laugh. Yeah, right. She’d never have the balls to do something like that. And despite what Tara thought, Thomas wasn’t so very bad. Was he?

  Funny, but now that she thought about it, she didn’t miss Thomas so much as having a goddamn date. Someone to hold her purse while she snapped candid photos of the newlyweds dancing. A bringer of drinks and an opener of doors. And, ok, someone to share the bed with, but that sat sadly low on her list of regrets. But then, she and Thomas weren’t exactly keeping the neighbors awake, and it had nothing to do with the size of his equipment.

  Maybe that’s what he’d meant by boring. Bad in the sack.

  Oh, god. Now it made sense. Kinda hot but boring. She’d wondered why he’d said it like that, what one had to do with the other. No wonder he’d looked horrified after it slipped out.

  What bullshit. He was the boring one.

  Forget him, forget him…

  She checked her messages, which didn’t take any time whatsoever because she had none. Tara was right. Thomas was a dick. Any halfway decent man would have sent at least one email apologizing again, asking how the wedding had gone.

  “Screw you,” she said, and tossed the phone onto the empty bed next to her. For some reason, the life coach’s words suddenly bubbled to the surface. Change your mind to transform your life.

  What would a transformed life even look like for her? All she did was work, and she couldn’t walk away from her job. Well, there was one thing a transformed life wouldn’t include, and she was going to fix that right now.

  She retrieved her phone and wrote Thomas a very clear email, then hit send before flopping back onto the bed.

  So. Now she was single. Again. She smiled. Better to be alone than to have a crappy, unreliable boyfriend… even if he’d given nice massages and made her laugh. He smelled nice. And the sex wasn’t terrible.

  She scrambled for her phone, hoping the email hadn’t gone through. But there it was, in her sent messages. She reread it, chewing on her lip. “Thomas, this isn’t working. We both deserve to be with someone who prioritizes us and the relationship above everything else. I truly wish you the best.”

  What was wrong with her that she felt equal parts relieved and nauseous?

  Groaning, she slid down and pulled the covers over her head.

  Chapter 3

  At 7:40 the next morning, Monroe was frowning at her reflection. As if Thomas’s lack of response wasn’t hard enough on her ego, she hated the way she looked in a bikini. Or, at least, in this bikini. It was brand new, purchased the year before at an end-of-season sale. She always washed new clothing before wearing it; she must have accidentally sent the swimsuit through the hot water cycle.

  The bikini covered all the essentials… barely. She was definitely spilling out of it. And the floral print was brightly colored. Just her luck. The suit had gotten smaller but the colors hadn’t faded. It was a look at me thing to wear.

  Thank goodness it was a halter top or her boobs
would have been falling out the bottom.

  Shaking her head, she pulled a yellow coverup dress over her head and slipped on flip-flops, then grabbed her beach bag.

  She eyed her phone. Would she be able to enjoy herself if she brought it? No, she’d be checking nonstop.

  When she reached the lobby, her friends were nowhere in sight. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t that late. Was she?

  She walked out onto the bright orange sidewalk and squinted in the morning sun. Gulls wheeled overhead, squawking. It was a lovely morning, the perfect day for an outing.

  “Are you Monroe?” A tall and slender long-faced woman wearing a backward baseball hat tentatively approached.

  “Yes.”

  The woman smiled. “Excellent. My name is Sosie, I’m from Dive Happy Caribbean, and I’ll be your driver and lead guide. This way.”

  They approached an empty van with the company’s name painted on the side, and guilt washed over Monroe. “I’m so sorry you had to hang back for me. Please tell me the others didn’t wait before leaving.”

  Sosie pursed her lips and stopped walking. “Um, no. Your friends canceled. You didn’t know?”

  Monroe’s stomach dropped, and her hands went cold despite the sun. “Canceled?”

  Sosie squinted a little. “I didn’t take the call but I think they’re sick.”

  “Sick?” Monroe knew she sounded like a parrot, but Sosie wasn’t making any sense. “That’s not possible.” She hurried back inside. “I need to call my friend upstairs,” she said to the startled receptionist, who looked no older than sixteen.

  “Um…” The clerk’s eyes went wide in confusion. “I don’t know…”

  Monroe leaned over the counter and groped blindly for the phone. Another clerk hurried over and set the phone on the counter.

  Hands shaking, she dialed, but no one answered. She was on the verge of sprinting up to Tara’s room when a faint voice said, “Yeah?”

  Monroe’s hand tightened on the phone. “Can you hear me?”