by Ann Omasta
He turns me around to face the water and brings his front to touch my back. We hold our arms out to the side and interlace our fingers, Titanic-movie style. "You make me feel like I am the King of the world, Ruthie."
His words vibrate near my ear making me tingle. "There's no place I'd rather be than right here in your arms," I reveal to him, and I mean it. My emotions have been all over the place since this trip started, with unbeatable highs and devastating lows, but I feel like we have now gotten to exactly where we are meant to be.
Chapter 32
It starts out as a fairly normal day. Andrew and I devour a massive breakfast on his balcony. I'm wearing one of his soft tee shirts, which is way too big for me. We are both famished from a long night of naked cavorting in his bed. He has delightful sensual tricks up his sleeve that make the magic act in his show seem pedestrian. I should feel tired from a lack of sleep, but I can't bring myself to feel anything but completely satiated and content.
He leans over to give me a deep kiss. I am tempted to get swept away yet again by his touch, but I remind us both, "We aren't safe out here. There are eyes and ears everywhere." I point upward and our gazes both follow the path I am indicating. No cameras are visible, but we aren't willing to risk having another secret video taken of our lovemaking.
I am just getting ready to suggest we go inside for some sudsy fun in his teeny-tiny shower when I notice a boat racing to catch up with us. It pulls alongside us and I peer down at the frantically waving passengers.
"Is that...?" I squint to get a better look. "No, it can't be," I try to convince myself.
"What?" Andrew asks, trying to figure out what I'm alluding to.
"That looks like Baggy, my grandmother," I inform him as I run inside the room to throw on some shorts and head down to sea level to see what is going on.
Sure enough, it is my crazy grandmother and her husband. Baggy has frantically waved her arms so much that our ship's crew has radioed up to the bridge to have us idle to see what the commotion is all about.
I smile to myself, thinking that Baggy would probably refer to it as a ruckus-fuckus, which would make my mother (her daughter) scold her for using such a horrible word. Mother would then drop her head and rub her temples, claiming that Baggy's outrageously inappropriate behavior had given her a migraine. I could see the entire scene play out in my mind, and it makes me miss my family immensely.
It is an enormous relief when I see her bluish-gray pin curls appear over the threshold as two deck hands struggle to lift her tiny frame up the swinging ladder. She arrives in her typical outlandish style––waving her arms and yelling about a medical emergency.
Fearing that something really bad is happening, I rush forward. "Baggy, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she stage whispers to me. "I just wanted them to let me board the ship."
Once the deck hands climb back up, she leans over the railing to wave and yell at her husband in the small boat below. "Bye, Sexy! You'll have to get by without having this hot bod next to you for a night or two." She rubs her hands down the sides of her bony frame as she says this and I almost burst out laughing at the bewildered looks the people milling around give each other.
"Ma'am, you can't stay on this ship." I'm not a bit surprised to see the ticket stickler who always tries to keep me from boarding.
Baggy is not having any of his snootiness. "My ride is already gone." She points to the quickly disappearing boat she arrived on.
"He needs to turn around and come get you." He is already raising his radio in an attempt to call back the boat when Baggy starts toward him, her gnarled finger pecking him in the chest. Even though Baggy is well over a foot shorter than him, the man backs up as she reads him the riot act.
"You don't tell me where I can and can't go, young man. I'll take you over my knee and give you a good swat for being an obstinate brat. My medical emergency seems to have cleared up." She turns to give me an exaggerated wink before turning back to him. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't stay here for monitoring. I'm an old woman...we wouldn't want to take any chances."
He seems unsure how to respond to her, like so many others before him. When he remains quiet, Baggy adds another line of reasoning. "Besides, don't you know who I am? My granddaughter needs me, so I am here."
Comprehension dawns on his face at her words. He turns directly to me. "I assume this is yours?" he sneers.
I nod, smiling. Feeling overwhelmingly grateful for the presence of my wild, wonderful, and wacky grandmother.
He snarls at us, but flits away without pushing the issue farther.
"Baggy!" I hold my arms open and engulf the tiny woman in a hug. She smells like talcum powder and lemon drops. I take a deep breath to savor her soothing, familiar scent. Even though the ship hasn't been gone long, it feels like an eternity because so much has happened since we left on our voyage. "How are you here?" I ask her excitedly.
"We were on an island not too far from here," she turns directly towards Jake's camera and stage whispers the word, "spying. When I saw how they are making you look on that show, I decided to come set them straight. I could tell everything was all hay-wonkers."
She leans in to my ear as if telling me a secret, but still talks loud enough for everyone around––including the cameras––to hear what she is saying. "Are you really sleeping with all of those men, Honey? Because, if so, way to go!"
"No, Baggy, of course not." She looks a little disappointed at my denial, but nods her head in acceptance. At some point, Andrew arrived because he is now standing by my side. I put my arm around him and say to Baggy, "Actually, I only have eyes for one man. Baggy, this is Andrew Stark."
He holds his hand out to shake Baggy's, but she instead offers her hand for a kiss. He obliges, but Baggy is frowning. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, and I hope she doesn't say anything to give away my ginormous, decade-long crush on Andrew.
"Andrew Stark," she says quietly, mulling it over with her watery eyes squinting up at him. I am able to see the moment the light bulb comes on in her brain. She snaps her fingers. "Aren't you the young man Ruthie has been mooning over since she was in high school?"
Appalled by her lack of couth, I can feel my cheeks burning red with embarrassment. Andrew turns to me, clearly surprised by my grandmother's revelation. I scoff and shake my head as if to imply that Baggy is crazy, which is actually the case.
Not willing to be deterred that easily, Baggy continues. "Yeah, he's the one you danced with at prom, right?"
I don't want this conversation to go any farther, and I can only think of one way to distract Baggy. "I think the bar is already open. Shall we go check it out?"
Like a dog spotting a squirrel, Baggy is instantly interested and alert. "Oh, yes! Lead the way," she tells me, and I hope the topic of my borderline-insane crush on Andrew is dropped for good.
We imbibe a little too much at the poolside bar, but the sun is shining and the frozen beverages are cool and delicious. Baggy has talked the bartender into making us something called Voodoo slushies. I wasn't listening when Baggy prattled off the required ingredients, but I can tell they contain ice, a splash of fruit juice, and a whole lot of rum.
It is obvious that I am getting tipsy when I start attempting to describe the alcohol content in our drinks. "They're rumtastic. Wait...is that a word? How about rum-dilicious? Or rumified? Rumrific?" Andrew and Baggy are looking at me like I have lost my mind. So, I settle for, "Super rummy."
As the sun rises higher in the sky, I move my chair to hide in the shade, not wanting to get any more exposure on my still-sensitive skin. Baggy sits right out in the full sunlight after donning enormous fuschia sunglasses with crystal bling and declaring herself to be "Ready for her close-up."
I smile, knowing that she is going to be an absolute hit on the show. When Jamie asked her to sign a waiver allowing them to film her, Baggy scrawled her signature with a giant heart around it before telling Jamie to have her people call her people so the
two of them could "do lunch." Jamie didn't acknowledge the request.
The world will be drawn to Baggy. She is so shocking and outrageous that they will see no other option except to love her––like the rest of us.
We spend the day sitting at the bar and getting drunk. I tell Andrew about some of Baggy's sillier antics, knowing that this will play really well on the show. It's about time they use some favorable footage of me, I decide.
"This one time," I start in on the next story, touching Andrew's arm, "Roxy and I both had chicken pox. We were bored and itchy and miserable. It had snowed the night before, but Mother wouldn't let us go out to play. Baggy came over and made a silly upside down snowwoman in front of our window. She put a blonde wig on her and even gave her boobs!"
Baggy howls with laughter over her own shenanigans. "Oh, I am a hoot!" She shakes her head as if she can't believe how ornery she can be.
It's quiet for a moment as we are all lost in our own thoughts. Baggy raises her crooked pointer finger to waggle at me. "Just remember one thing, young lady," she tells me seeming serious. I'm almost scared to hear what is coming next, but I widen my eyes, silently asking the question. "You are only here on this great Earth because I got lucky one night a long time ago!"
Andrew and I both cringe at that unwanted mental image, but Baggy cackles so loudly at her own joke that they can probably hear her up on the bridge. Eventually, we have no choice but to join her.
Chapter 33
Just when I started to think that things might be turning in my favor, another bombshell is dropped. We are sitting at dinner, and I'm feeling refreshed and still a little tipsy.
Baggy had gone with me to my room to nap and cleanup. She and I tried to doze in my tiny bed. It is fortunate that we had so much to drink earlier because her snoring was loud enough to raise the roof on our tiny cabin. I covered my ears with my pillow and passed out, after deciding that in order to get any sleep when I'm not drunk, I'll need to sleep in Andrew's cabin while Baggy is here. I drifted off thinking that I am perfectly okay with that stipulation.
Syd had awoken us by tapping (then banging when we ignored him) on the connecting door to the make-up chamber. He was kind enough to get Baggy camera-ready as well, and the two of them had become fast friends.
I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived at the Captain's table for dinner that they had already added a chair and place setting for Baggy. Someone around here sure seems to keep track of details to make sure everything runs smoothly. My money is on clipboard-carrying Jamie. She definitely looks the part.
We are just digging in to the salad and dinner rolls when the crocodile bares his teeth. I can tell by T.J.'s smile that whatever is making him so happy will likely not be in my best interest. He taps his glass with his fork before announcing, "Good news..." He pauses for dramatic affect, during which I stew, knowing that this declaration is bound to be the opposite of good for me.
"We've had a lot of surprising twists come to our attention." He flashes his white teeth as he looks around the table to make eye contact with each of us. The resulting affect of his gaze makes us shift uncomfortably in our seats, like when the preacher stares at you from the podium. Is he looking at me? What have I done? What does he know?
Baggy is the only one who keeps stuffing her roll in her mouth, oblivious to and utterly unaffected by his words. The rest of us shift our eyes to each other wondering who will be on the grill tonight. I hope it isn't me again. It should be someone else's turn, right?
"Since that is the case," he finally continues, "the last fifteen minutes of tonight's show will be live!" He says this like we should all be incredibly excited about it. Baggy starts a little whoop of enthusiasm before she has a chance to gauge the reaction of the rest of us. Once she sees our concerned and downcast faces, the yelp of excitement peters out into a questioning squeak.
Silence prevails at the table for a long while. T.J. resumes eating as if he has just blessed us with magnificent news that we should all feel grateful for. The rest of us sit there staring at our plates. My stomach churns with the unknown. Deciding that no one else is going to ask, I inquire, "Why are we going live?"
As much as I hate how they cut the film in the editing room to make me look like a total heel, I'm much more concerned about tripping, saying something stupid, or throwing up a sticky glob of Voodoo slushie on live streaming television. Croc looks up as if he is taken aback by my question. It appears that he really thought we would be happy about this unexpected, new development.
He smiles, this time without teeth. His dark skin makes the whites of his eyes pop. He looks right at me and says mysteriously, "You'll see."
The uneasy feeling I had been fighting increases ten-fold. I know that whatever they are planning to reveal tonight doesn't bode well for us. The others seem to sense it too, with the exception of Baggy, who has gone back to loudly crunching her spinach salad, seeming oblivious to the jittery nerves around the table.
When she takes a sip of her iced tea, she shivers in mock disgust. "Blech, that's sweet tea. It has WAY too much sugar for me." She wrinkles her nose in distaste, and a waiter rushes forward to apologize. He quickly scurries off to get her an unsweetened tea. Before he can run back with her fresh glass of tea, she is slurping her straw in the ice at the bottom of the sweet tea glass––having sucked down the entire beverage that she supposedly didn't like. Shrugging her tiny shoulders, she says, "I guess it wasn't that bad."
We don't have the energy to laugh at her, even though she is a total nut. I just hope the sugar doesn't make her hyper during the live show tonight, and yes, I am aware that it sounds like I'm worrying about a toddler rather than an old woman. Her age doesn't negate my fears, due to her overarching lack of maturity. Maybe she'll pull some wild stunt that will keep any negative attention from the rest of us, I decide as I realize that for the first time in my entire life, I don't crave the spotlight.
All too soon, dinner is over and it's time to head up to the theatre. The show's cast had barely been able to touch our dinners, with the exception of barely tipping the scales at one-hundred pounds Baggy, who had wolfed down two entire lobsters. Shiny, melted butter had dripped off her chin and onto the plastic bib protecting the royal blue dress Syd had chosen for her. Again, we probably would have found it funny, had we not all been so stressed about the live show.
I am pleased to find when the taped portion of the show begins that they seem to be showing us all in a more favorable light. Andrew is prominently featured with me, and the romantic music and clips clearly indicate that we are a couple. Thankfully, they don't seem to be playing dirty by airing the video of our sexual encounter on his balcony––unless they are saving it for later, which is a constant fear in the back of my mind as we watch.
It appears that this episode won't be focused as much on me as the last one when the next segment features Cam and Bellamy playing on the beach at our island stopover, sipping from the same glass at the pool, and watching the sunset over the bow of the ship. Their clip is fun, upbeat, and they both look gorgeous. They beam at each other when it finishes and we break for a commercial.
Tiffany and Paul appear on the screen and their portion of the show continues in the same vein as the previous one. They appear happy and in love. Even Josh, who should feel like the odd-man-out is shown enjoying the ship's amenities and relaxing by the pool by himself, seeming perfectly content.
It's all starting to feel a little 'happily ever after' for reality television. It makes me wonder what kind of bombshells are going to be dropped during the last portion.
I don't have to wonder too long because the show takes a break with a voice-over teaser that we will be live when we return. A flurry of activity begins. Seven chairs are brought out on stage in front of the big screen for the 3 married couples and Andrew. Baggy seems somewhat affronted to not be included in this part of the show, but I am proud of her for not pitching a hissy fit. Syd moves up to sit beside her, so his nearness distracts her
from being too upset.
The show comes back and there we are on the enormous screen. It's a little surreal to be sitting in front of a giant version of myself, so I focus my gaze on Baggy in the front row to help ease my nerves.
T.J. walks on stage and makes a big deal about us airing live from the ship. My jittery nerves make me want to shout at him to get on with it, but I force myself to be patient. Besides, if they are getting ready to ruin our lives, I'd prefer to drag it out anyway. Maybe the ship will capsize or something. Never mind the fact that it has been flat calm seas during our entire voyage...tidal waves can happen, right? I shake my head slightly, not believing that the show has frazzled my brain so much that I am actually wishing for a tidal wave. That is messed up.
Building the intrigue, T.J. teases that ours is a ship filled with secrets. He walks over to Josh and places a hand on his shoulder. "Josh, would you like to spill your secret before the world sees it?"
I'm sure Josh has no idea what they know. How could he? He shakes his head, so T.J. indicates to the production team to roll the video footage. Turning my head back to the screen, I see a giant movie of Josh and Syd with their arms wrapped around each other in a serious lip lock on the top deck of the ship. It is dark, so they probably thought they were alone and didn't count on the ever-rolling cameras.
A murmur of surprise rolls through the theatre audience. I hear Baggy turn to Syd and say, "Oh, you're a gay. Too bad." I cringe at her word choice as she shakes her head, "You look super hot on the big screen. I could rock your world if you decide to give up on dongs."
I turn my attention back to the announcer, hoping that Baggy's voice wasn't picked up by the live feed. Probably not wanting to give the microphone to Josh after outing him on live television, T.J. moves on to his next victim. "Tiffany," his voice sounds kind, but I'm sure his attention doesn't bode well for Tiffany, who shifts uncomfortably in her seat at his attention. "Did you really think we wouldn't find out your secret?" he asks her, somewhat condescendingly.
