by Jordan Rivet
“Dress up how?”
“Like, wear a dress.”
“I don’t have one.”
“I’m sure Adele could get you one. She’s the magic worker around here.”
Esther rolled her eyes. “Great.”
The next evening found Esther in a red skirt that was a little too tight. She couldn’t quite take a full stride in it. She’d stuck with one of her usual black tank tops because Adele hadn’t found a dress in time. The skirt would have to do. It was made out of real silk, and Esther was terrified she’d spill something on it. She hoped no one would pay too much attention to her bowling shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to ask Adele for high heels and was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to walk in them anyway. She’d taken extra care to scrub her hands clean, and she’d washed her hair with real shampoo, one of the luxuries the Catalina had long since run out of. She had to admit that she liked the flowery scent. Surreptitiously, she pulled the edges of her shaggy hair to her nose as she waited for Neal on the foredeck.
Neal wore a scarlet tie and a dress shirt with his usual dark blue pants. He too had opted for his bowling shoes. His mousy brown hair was slicked down with some sort of shiny grease; Esther made him comb it up before they left the Catalina. He tried to make it stand out like Dax’s hair but only succeeded it pushing it back and forth on his head in stiff waves.
They took the bridge over to the Emerald and then a water taxi across the flotilla to the Galaxy Mist. The Mist floated far from the Emerald, past the oil tankers and the stern of the Galaxy Crown. As they sped through the water, the lights of the ships emerged around them. Sea spray misted their faces. Esther had the sensation that she was floating along the San Diego boardwalk on a summer evening. It made her sad to think of that lost city, drowned first in ash and then in surges from the volatile sea. She didn’t often think of what had been lost on land. She’d been so young when the disaster began. She didn’t grieve for places, only people. Still, as she had grown older, she felt sad for what her life could have been like, unconfined by the limitations of the sea.
An eerie array of blue lights spread across the deck of the Galaxy Mist. They glimmered like stars in an ashy sky. The water taxis sailed to platforms beside the hull, which were also illuminated in blue light. Esther and Neal disembarked and climbed the gangway to the deck. A crowd gathered around several long tables that had been set up under the stars. The women wore long, sweeping dresses and hair ornaments made of delicate shells and stones. A few had traces of makeup that made their eyes pop in the low lights like mother-of-pearl. The men had brightly colored vests beneath their coats. Their shoes shone in the bluish light.
The people from the Catalina stuck out amongst the Galaxy residents because of their relative shabbiness. Like Esther’s and Neal’s, their outfits had been pulled together with donations and found fabrics. Esther spotted a tablecloth dress shirt on one man. Sturdy work boots peeked from beneath another woman’s skirt, which was the exact hue of the Catalina’s bedsheets.
Cally had convinced her mother to make her a dress in the “Galaxy style” for her date with Dax. She looked radiant in a shimmering green, complemented by the whites and blues of the ship and sea. If Esther wasn’t mistaken, that fabric had once hung in the Mermaid Lounge on the Catalina.
Dax stumbled as he came to greet Cally on the deck.
“Neal, over here mi amor.”
Marianna had been waiting for them by the railing. She wore a pretty caramel-colored gown that hugged her shapely hips. Esther felt sad for Neal when she saw the way his face turned sunset pink the moment he laid eyes on her.
“Marianna.” Neal put a hand gently on her arm and kissed her cheek. “You look so lovely. I don’t know enough languages to tell you how lovely you are.” Esther cleared her throat. “Sorry, this is my friend Esther. I think you met on the yacht when we first arrived.”
“Esther, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming along. Neal tells me you are sympathetic to our situation.”
“I feel sympathy for you, yes.”
Marianna looked away. “Ah, here is my husband,” she said. “Come here, Paris, I’d like you to meet Neal and Esther, from the Catalina.”
A tall man with thick gray curls and a shimmering gold vest sauntered over to them.
“Absolutely charming to meet you.” He kissed both of Esther’s cheeks, then both of Neal’s. Neal stiffened in surprise. “Marianna has been telling me how you’re on the same wavelength with all this radio business. I find it frightfully dull myself. I’m the artistic director for performances. I believe you’ve heard my string quartet already. Such a find they were. Ronaldo the cellist is an absolute daaarling.” He stretched out the final word like an elastic band.
“Nice to meet you.” Esther and Neal exchanged glances.
“Do come and get a drink,” Paris trilled. “I’ve convinced the captains to let us dip into the alcohol supply for this little occasion. It’s our first opportunity to truly show our guests what kind of civilization we’ve been building anew on the sea.”
Esther and Neal followed Paris and Marianna through the crowd to the tables. Esther lost sight of the blue lights for a moment as strange faces surrounded her. She almost wished she’d borrowed some high heels. Almost.
Small glasses filled with ice lined the table.
“You make ice here?” Esther said. She knew down to the joule how much energy that took.
Paris laughed. “This isn’t all we make here, my dear.” He stepped up and flicked four fingers at the thin-faced young man behind the counter, who opened a bottle and poured an amber liquid over the ice. “Whiskey.” Paris placed a glass in each of their hands and immediately raised a toast. “To whiskey, new friends, and the fabulous performance you are about to witness.”
The drink burned Esther’s throat. It made her think of fuel blasting into a combustion chamber. She sipped very slowly.
Neal and Marianna were staring awkwardly between each other and Paris. Neal commented on the weather. Marianna agreed enthusiastically that it was an “exceptionally calm night.”
Esther scratched her scab and looked down at the alcohol and ice in her glass. The Catalina occasionally acquired liquor, but it had to be shared among many. She rarely had more than a sip. She’d only taken a gulp or two when the young man topped off her glass.
A bell chimed three times. It made Esther think of the three horns that warned people about running storms on the Catalina. “That’s our cue, darlings.”
Paris led the way inside the ship. The dinner theater was located just off the main atrium. It was at least three times bigger than the theater on the Catalina. Tables arranged in a half moon spread out from the open stage, which had no curtains. All the chairs faced the stage. The balconies rising up around the theater were filling with people in glittering, brightly colored attire. Paris settled his group at a table on the ground level, to the right of the stage, and then he bustled off. “I must greet the captains and check on my performers. Ta-ta.”
“Um, Marianna, Paris seems nice,” Esther said. “How long have you two been married?”
Neal shot her a look.
“Oh gosh, it’s been seven years now. I was quite young.” Marianna looked at Neal sadly. “He’s good to me. He’s been a good partner and companion.”
“Do you love him?” Neal asked, his voice unnaturally high. The weight in his words made it sound like a conversation continued from another time.
“Of course I love him.” Marianna ran a hand along the grain of their table. A ring with a transparent blue stone glittered on her finger.
“Does he love you the way he should?” Neal asked.
He leaned forward and gripped Marianna’s hand, cutting off the light from her ring. Esther shifted uncomfortably in her seat and played with the hem of her skirt. They seemed to have forgotten she was there.
“We have a partnership, Neal. That’s what marriage is about.”
“But does he make you ha
ppy, in every way?”
“We have an understanding. We’ve been together for so long.”
“It can’t be right for either of you.”
“He can seek—comfort—elsewhere. I understand what he needs. I can do the same.”
“That’s not good enough, Marianna. Not for you or for me.”
Esther quickly drained her glass. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, standing quickly. The blood rushed to her head a little too fast, the lights swooping slightly around her, and she blinked. Neither one of them looked at her. “I’m going to get another drink.”
She left Neal and Marianna staring intently at each other and stroking each other’s fingers. None of the people lounging and drinking in nearby chairs looked at them.
The seats were nearly full, and the lights were dimming. Esther showed her Guest card and picked up another tiny glass of whiskey from a bar by the door. She glanced back at Neal and Marianna, then climbed the steps to the balcony. She leaned against the polished wood railing and sipped her drink. It warmed her as it hit her throat, drawing heat to the surface of her skin.
She watched the audience from the balcony. In the middle of the front row of tables below, she spotted the white crown of Captain Ryan’s hair. His presence was somehow magnetic, drawing eyes from all over the room. He wore a sparkling white uniform with braided cord on the shoulders and seemed large and imperious even while seated. He looked up as another man in a matching captain’s uniform slumped into the seat next to him. His raven-black hair and uniform were rumpled, and one of the braids on his shoulder was askew. He leaned over to say something to Captain Ryan. Then the lights went out.
A rumble like the sea began, drums from beneath the stage. The cacophony filled the theater, still in total darkness. A light flickered on in the center of the stage. It was small at first, but as it started to grow, the crashing music slowly quieted, as if the sound were receding into the flame, feeding it. All eyes were on the flame. Slowly, dancers began to appear from the edges of the stage, materializing from nothing as though risen from the sea. They twisted their arms in slow, sensuous motions, twirling around each other, melding and separating like droplets of water. They drew close to the flame, now a bonfire, and were almost touching it when the drums faded away completely. They froze, still as ice, then a single cymbal crashed, and the dancers fell backward away from the flames.
Esther jumped at the sound of the cymbal and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. She saw David Hawthorne standing on the other side of a pillar separating two sections of the balcony. He was turned slightly toward her, but his eyes were on the performers. Esther looked down again.
The dancers had disappeared. A troupe of men cavorted across the stage in their place. The high-energy performance looked like a cross between a fight and a dance. The men were bare chested, and the light from the bonfire flickered across the sweat on their skin. Esther leaned forward as they began a series of high, combative kicks, each landing in the air just above the others’ heads. As the music played, the dance changed from a combative movement to a synchronized, symbiotic one. With each step, the men were more closely aligned, until finally they danced as one.
The music changed; the men fled, replaced by more performers. This time couples danced together. The music was unlike anything Esther had ever heard before. It had a rhythmic, exotic quality that she was sure the Catalina’s instruments couldn’t replicate. She scanned the crowd to see if Reggie and the other Catalina musicians were watching. She spotted Cally staring at the dancers, enraptured. Esther felt for a moment that she could be carried away by the music too. Dax was watching Cally and mirrored her reactions smile for smile.
A dancing couple whirled to the center of the stage, and the others faded into the background. It was unclear where they had gone because there was no curtain. The steps of the remaining couple became more intricate, and soon the man was dipping the woman to the floor, then pulling her up close to his body. She wore a vivid orange skirt that swirled around her with each movement. The dancers kept their eyes on each other’s faces even as the crowd applauded.
“Have you seen a tango before?”
Esther started. She hadn’t seen David Hawthorne move close beside her. He leaned against the balcony, also holding a tiny glass of whiskey in his hand. His blond hair seemed to glow in the light from the stage. Half his face remained in shadows.
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Tango. Yes, it originated in Argentina. Those two were competitive dancers before the disaster. They were taking a cruise to celebrate a recent win. I think they were cruising on this ship, in fact.”
“No, I’ve never seen tango before,” Esther said.
“Well, watch. The ending is the best.”
Esther looked at David’s face as he turned back to the dancers. There was something strange about him, something different from the last time they’d met.
He was right about the ending, though. The man twirled the woman in a seemingly endless tornado, the music giving her energy like a whirlpool, a vortex, until suddenly he stopped, lifted her in a graceful arc above his head, and then dropped her nearly to the floor. The edges of her blue-black hair brushed the stage. He pulled her slowly, sensually to her feet.
The crowd erupted in applause. Esther saw Cally jumping to her feet. It would be difficult for her to go back to her simple life on the Catalina after all this.
Esther snuck another peek at David out of the corner of her eye. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing an intricate dive watch on his wrist. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and his hair was messed up. He didn’t look as elegant as the last time she saw him. The condescending posture was gone too, and somehow it made him more attractive. He kept turning his glass in his hands, wiping away the beads of condensation. There was a blue shadow across the knuckles of his right hand. He glanced her way, and she quickly looked back at the performers.
The bonfire had burned low again. Colored lights flickered on one by one around the stage. A woman stood before the bonfire, a perfectly still silhouette. She was naked, Esther realized with a jolt. A single violinist walked to the edge of the stage and sat down. He didn’t look at the woman, swinging his legs slightly as he began to play. The sound was pure and sad. It carried all the loneliness of a world destroyed. In the midst of the sadness, a high note sang out, a single ray of hope in the darkness. As that note grew stronger, the woman began to dance. Her movements were so slow that Esther wasn’t sure she had moved at all until she settled into a long, elegant posture, standing on one foot as though she were about to fly away. As she held her position, a cellist walked onto the stage and joined the violinist. He played one sonorous note, then another, and another. As the melancholy of the cello descended on the crowd, a male dancer floated gracefully down from the ceiling and began a slow, sensual dance in the air above the fire. The violinist picked up his bow again, and the woman danced in time to the movements of the floating man. The cello and violin played together. The song was of longing on a vast, forsaken sea. But the high note emerged again, and the woman danced up on her toes, reaching up to the soaring man. He met her in front of the bonfire, tipping his face slowly down to hers. For a moment, they were one silhouette. Then the man encircled the woman’s waist and lifted her in his arms. They drifted slowly above the flames.
A soft intake of breath whispered through the audience. The couple danced a languid, erotic ballet in the air.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” David had moved closer to Esther. She could smell the salt on his clothes.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s all beautiful.”
“They train their bodies for their entire lives just to be able to move like that for a few moments. But can you imagine what it must feel like to be up there?”
Esther said nothing. For a second she pictured herself as the suspended dancer, and David Hawthorne as her partner. She shook her head to clear the image away, and the lights swooped again. She’d only s
een him in passing since he’d kicked her off Judith’s personal tour. She was uncomfortable with his familiar way of addressing her. And yet there was something appealing about his attention, about the way he turned toward her as the sparsely dressed couple twirled above the stage.
The dancers tangled their legs together. The woman swung downward, suspended upside down high above the stage. She arched her back gracefully. Esther gasped, checking to see if the dancer had been attached to a wire when she wasn’t looking. Surely she wasn’t relying only on her connection at the knees to the other dancer for her safety?
David touched the cold edge of his glass against the back of Esther’s hand to get her attention. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”
“I’m watching the performance.”
But even as she spoke, the violin and cello players ceased, and the dancers drifted up and out of sight. The lights brightened. Esther blinked and cleared her throat.
David too seemed to be composing himself.
“There’ll be a brief interlude now. Paris likes to extend his evenings for as long as possible,” David said. “So, how are you finding the Galaxy? Does it enchant you?” He turned toward her, but Esther kept her eyes on the scene below.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s an improvement on that ungainly tin can of yours,” he said.
“The Catalina has kept us safe,” she said shortly. “It’s home.”
“If you say so. Are you enjoying our food? The cooks work magic, even with seafood.”
Suddenly, Esther turned and glared up at David’s thick black glasses. “Look, Hawthorne, I don’t want to talk about the food or the tango. I want to know why we haven’t been able to trade for parts.” Esther had realized quite abruptly that she’d had it with everyone ignoring her questions. “You give us water but don’t give us a chance to fix our own water system. You take Judith for these big dinners and isolate her from anyone who could support her in negotiations and then don’t even negotiate anything anyway. What’s going on?”
To Esther’s fury, David laughed. “You’re direct, aren’t you? And I hear you’ve been snooping around.”
