The Unimaginable

by Dina Silver

  I began walking toward the plane when Quinn appeared at the top of the steps, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and whistled at me.

  “Let’s go, woman!”

  I strapped my backpack onto both shoulders and ran with a small, wheeled carry-on trailing behind me. The two Thai men at the bottom of the steps greeted me with smiles as I boarded. Quinn reached for my bag and told me to quickly find a seat. I scanned the five rows for Grant and saw him in the back, talking with a man and a woman.

  “Yo, Angela and Adam, this here is Jessica,” Quinn shouted to them.

  “Nice to meet you,” Angela said with a warm smile, and waved.

  Quinn leaned in to me. “They’re from New Zealand. Grant met them when he was there, and we’re planning on meeting up with them and their boat, Destiny, in Sri Lanka.”

  I nodded and let my eyes wander to Grant. He was wearing a white linen dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, khaki shorts, and a chunky metal watch on his wrist that kept sliding around as he moved his arms during the conversation. The watch was catching the sunlight and was as pleasingly distracting as Grace Kelly’s charm bracelet in Rear Window. So much so that I hadn’t realized he’d waved hello to me until Quinn tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Good morning.” I smiled and waved to him and his friends, then took an open seat in the second row.

  Quinn was in front of me and leaning over the back of his seat like a little kid who refuses to sit down.

  “Do you know where we’re staying?” I asked. Quinn had told me not to book a room, that Grant had taken care of the accommodations for everyone. I wasn’t very comfortable with him paying my way, so I brought some extra money in hopes that he would let me contribute or, at the very least, treat him to lunch.

  “The old man booked a couple suites at the Mandarin Oriental. You and I have to share a room, though.” He winked. “Just kidding,” he said, and aggressively squeezed my shoulder. “What? You don’t want to bunk with the Quinnster? Better get used to it if you’re going to be my shipmate.”

  “I feel like a mooch,” I whispered, “weaseling my way onto this gorgeous miniature plane and into his hotel suite.”

  Quinn lifted a hand to silence me. “He’s well connected and has worked for, like, ten years in the hotel industry. Doesn’t say much about it. I think his family owns a few properties in the States and maybe Great Britain. I’m sure he’s on some sort of investor stipend. Trust me, he’s happy to do it.” He gave a singular nod. “So just relax. You excited?”

  “I am,” I said, catching my breath. “How long is the flight?”

  “Little over an hour,” he said, then lifted a bottle of rum over his head. “Thirsty?”

  I wasn’t afraid of flying necessarily, since I’d only done it once before. But after running to catch my second flight ever—and climbing into what resembled more of a minivan than an aircraft—I was thrilled to see Quinn’s bottle of rum. Even if it was only 8 a.m.

  Chapter 13

  We landed in Bangkok, and the five of us cheered as we taxied to the gate. Once off the plane, we were met by oppressive heat and a town car sent from the hotel. During the drive, I had my first real glimpse of the capital of Thailand. Bangkok is an enormous modern city that is rich in ancient history, but with that comes all the pluses and minuses of that reality. Traffic congestion was atrocious, and poor urban planning had left rice paddies next to skyscrapers. But despite a few minor nuisances, the city was throbbing with culture and excitement.

  I stared out the car window and felt like we were driving through a pinball machine. Horns and bells and flashing lights emanated from every inch of the metropolitan downtown area. There were more neon signs than I could count, and open-air buses were fighting for space on the roads with motorcycles, cars, trucks, cabs, even pedestrians, all caught up in the same hypnotic traffic jam.

  When we arrived at the hotel, located near the river, I stepped out of the car into what felt like a sauna but was simply the heavy, humid Bangkok air. After grabbing our bags from the trunk, we were quickly welcomed by the perfumed, air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, and I did my best to keep my astonishment to myself as we all walked through the vast reception area and surrounding gardens. The scent of lilies and tea leaves filled the room as two staff members, who greeted us in their native tongue, bowed first, then placed a small garland of orchids on Angela’s wrists and mine. Floor-to-ceiling windows exposed the greenery from outdoors, and birdcage-like light fixtures hung from way overhead. The indoor foliage was bright and lush and peppered with fuchsia flower buds.

  En route to our rooms, we were taken through what was called the Author’s Lounge, one of the most breathtaking spaces I’ve ever seen. The large white room had an expansive ceiling, and in the center was a large imperial staircase with a curtained passageway underneath the divided flights of stairs. Oversized white wicker loveseats and high-back chairs were scattered about the room. Impeccably dressed Thai women went from table to table dispensing tea service. I paused for a moment to take it all in. I could have stood there forever. It was like an Asian Casablanca.

  A hand on my shoulder awoke me from my daydream.

  “You coming?”

  I looked up into Humphrey Bogart’s eyes.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grant said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t we meet down here for tea service after we see our rooms?”

  I stared at him. “Yes.”

  He tapped my shoulder again. “Come on,” he said, and I followed.

  We all unpacked our things, and Quinn announced he’d be at the pool with Adam and Angela and insisted I join them in a bikini. As I was hanging the last of my things in the closet, I got a text from Grant.

  Ready for tea? it read.

  Always, I texted back.

  I need to make a call first. Meet me in the Author’s Lounge in 20, he wrote.

  Consider it done, I confirmed.

  I took those twenty minutes to jump in the shower and reapply my mascara and lip gloss. I hadn’t brought many outfits with me, since we were only going to be there for a couple days, so I put my bathing suit on and then a white sleeveless sundress over it. I placed my hair in a ponytail and stole a pink flower from the arrangement in the hallway of the suite and tucked it into the rubber band.

  Grant was sitting alone on one of the many loveseats when I arrived, so I pulled up a chair next to him.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Please.” He stood. “You look lovely,” he said, and then waved to one of the waitresses. Each of them was more stunningly exotic and gorgeous than the next.

  A woman waltzed over, bowed ever so slightly, and smiled.

  “Tea service for two, please,” Grant said.

  She nodded and left.

  I placed my palms on my thighs. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along. I feel like a complete mooch so far but am shamelessly loving every minute of it.”

  He lifted a hand. “Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure. It was worth a king’s fortune just to see the expression on your face when you walked in here.”

  “Can I at least treat you to tea?”

  “No, you cannot treat me to anything.”

  I nodded. “Well, thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Our tea service arrived on a silver tray, along with homemade lemongrass scones, finger sandwiches filled with Thai spiced tuna, steamed pumpkin custard, and warm washcloths to wipe our hands. Grant served us both. I marveled at the way he controlled the situation with such little effort. He poured us both a cup of tea and sat back into the plush cushion of his loveseat, which was decorated with bright green palm leaves and was responsible for some of the only color in the grand foyer.

  “So how long have you been at sea?” I asked, then carefully tested my drink with a tiny sip.

  “Just over two years.”

  My eyes went wide. “That’s incredible.”

  “Yes, it�
�s been quite incredible.”

  “And you don’t miss being home at all?” I asked, eager for more details about his life back in the States.

  “Nope.”

  “Where is home for you anyway?”

  “I’m originally from Chicago, but I sold my place before buying the boat, so I haven’t quite decided where to call home yet. I guess Imagine is my home. Looks like we’re two homeless Midwesterners,” he said.

  “Cheers to that.” We tapped our cups, and I braved another sip of the scorching liquid. “So has it been just you and Quinn the whole time?”

  “No. He’s my third crew. I spent six months in New Zealand on my own, and he met me there. Flew over from Miami when I was ready to leave. I can’t sail Imagine alone. It’s too much work without help. I always like to have at least one crew on board.”

  “Six months in New Zealand by yourself? Why so much time in one place?”

  “Mostly to wait out the cyclone season.”

  “Did you have any friends or family come out and see you while you were there?”

  He adjusted his posture in his seat and thought about something or someone for a moment. “A few of my friends flew out for a couple of weeks here and there. The Kiwis and the boating community there are quite embracing, so I was never really alone.”

  I smiled. “A lot of the American boaters I’ve met set sail from Miami or Key Biscayne. Is that where you began your journey?”

  He shook his head. “No, we started in Chicago. Set out right from Monroe Harbor smack-dab in the middle of the city. That first year me and my crew at the time, a guy named Jeff who used to work for me, sailed close to fifteen thousand miles from the States to New Zealand.” He paused. “Chicago seems like a world away.”

  Grant crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair. I loved how he crossed his legs, exhibiting such poise in that one move. I fidgeted with the thin shoulder strap of my dress as we sat silent for a moment before he continued.

  “From Chicago we sailed through the Great Lakes to the Hudson River and made our way down to New York City. He and I met up with a few people we knew and spent about three nights off the boat in Manhattan just hanging out.”

  “Do you mind me asking what sort of job gives you two years off to sail the globe?”

  “Not many that I know of.” He smiled. “I’m sort of an independent contractor. My family is in the hospitality business and has been for many years. I have a company that books very exclusive vacations for people who can afford a priceless travel experience.”

  “I’m guessing priceless does not refer to the price?”

  “Correct.”

  “How are you able to maintain the business from so many miles away?”

  “I’ve hired good people to run it for me, and they only bother me if absolutely necessary. I have a few clients who like to deal with me personally, so I check in with them on a need-be basis.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” I said, and thought of my mom. “It’s like the brass ring of the States for me.”

  “You would love it. It’s not unlike Bangkok in a lot of ways. Very urban and maybe not as global, but certainly as culturally diverse. Once we were back on board, we left New York and headed down the coast to the Chesapeake and stayed in Annapolis for a little while. Jeff’s brother and wife live there.” He leaned forward and grabbed a sandwich. “Then we went to Hampton, Virginia, where we prepared for our trip to the Caribbean. That was an amazing leg.” He shook his head and smiled. “One of my favorite stops was Dominica. I mentioned it to your class.” He finished chewing.

  “I remember.”

  “It’s a tiny speck of an island often referred to as the only island Columbus would still recognize. No cruise ships and not many tourists, until one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies was filmed there. It’s a very poor island but has some of the nicest people—and the highest percentage of Bob Marley look-alikes per capita I’ve ever seen. Jeff and I called it the incredible edible island. We went on a tour, and our guide would just stop his car and pull a branch off a tree and tell us to eat it. One was peppermint, another was spearmint.”

  “It sounds like paradise,” I added, ripe with admiration; I could hardly take it all in. “You must tell me more. I’m in heaven listening to all of this,” I said, and then craned my neck to look around the room and its seemingly endless ceiling. “Come to think of it, I may be in heaven right now.”

  He smiled. “Well, Jeff left me once we got through the Panama Canal, and two of my nephews met up with me. I have an older stepsister, and she has two sons in their early twenties, who were chomping at the bit to come along for the ride.” He paused to sip his tea. Not many men could make sipping tea and sitting cross-legged look as manly as he did. “So once we left Panama, we sailed to the Galápagos and then made a twenty-day passage across the South Pacific to the Marquesas and enjoyed the French Polynesian islands for three months.”

  His lips and the words emanating from them were an aphrodisiac. He’d traveled the world. He’d been places I’d only read about or seen on film. His toes had been covered in white sand from beaches in the middle of the South Pacific. My heart was racing at the thought of experiencing these things with him. I hung on every detail and became more enamored with every story.

  “Please, don’t stop.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He sat back in his chair and tilted his head to the side. “I love seeing how interested you are in my trip. To be honest, I haven’t really bored anyone with all the details, since most of the people I spend time with are other boaters.”

  “You can count on me as a captive audience.”

  “Good to know.” He folded his hands in his lap.

  “What would you and your nephews do all day? Did you ever get bored?”

  He shook his head. “Never. We did a ton of fishing, swimming, snorkeling. Caught and ate fresh fish every day. Visited the local schools everywhere we went, like we did yours.” He paused and thought. “Watched a lot of sunsets.”

  How romantic, I thought to myself. Poor guy stuck watching sunsets with his twenty-year-old nephews.

  “See, you need a woman around,” I said.

  He smiled. “I’m selling the dream, but the reality is that we’re fixing the boat all the time and spending a lot of our days with constant maintenance and upkeep. Repairs, cleaning, et cetera. A sailor’s work is never done. Trust me.”

  “That’s wonderful. What you do for the schools.”

  “It’s really the best way to get to know a place and its people. There is such a mutual admiration between us travelers and the kids and their families or teachers.” He gestured to me. “There’s really nothing more gratifying than being able to contribute to the communities we visit.”

  I smiled.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “from there we sailed to Auckland, New Zealand, and the boys flew home, and I stayed there for about six months, like I said. That’s when I met Angela and Adam and some other really great people from all over the world. Toward the end of my stay there, Quinn flew over and met up with me, and then he and I left and went straight to Fiji. That was the start of my second year at sea.”

  I could hardly remember enjoying myself more than I was in that moment. “I’ve heard Fiji is one of the most beautiful places on earth,” I said.

  “You heard right.”

  “How did you end up in Phuket?”

  “Once we left Fiji, we stopped at a group of islands called Vanuatu, then from there we sailed over the top of Australia, stopped in Darwin for a couple of weeks, then sailed to Singapore and Malaysia. After about a week in both of those places, we went from Malaysia to Phuket.” He nodded toward me. “Where we had the pleasure of meeting you.”

  I grinned and sat up straight. “No doubt a trip highlight.”

  “Indeed.” He let out a small laugh and then reached for his tea. He was about to take a sip when he looked over at me ins
tead, brow furrowed. “Look, Jess, I know you really want to make this next leg of the trip with us, and I admire you for volunteering. I really do. It says a lot about you.”

  “But . . .”

  He sighed. “But I’ve given the job to someone else.”

  My heart sank.

  “Please don’t be disappointed,” he said.

  I inched forward to the edge of my seat. “Just sitting here listening to you recount your journey, my hands are sweating and my heart is pounding. I’ve wanted to travel the world my whole life, but until I came to Thailand, I’d never made it anywhere besides my aunt’s condo in Florida when I was six years old.” I gestured around the room with my hand. “This is what I’ve always wanted. Not fancy hotels—although that doesn’t suck—but just to experience the world. I promise you that I would not have taken advantage of the opportunity, but I respect your decision.”

  Grant took a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of pulling your weight and helping us out. The boat is very self-sufficient.”

  “Then what’s your hesitation?”

  “My hesitation is that this leg of the journey is where we have to be the most cautious.”

  “In regards to the piracy threats?”

  “Yes, and while there hasn’t been an attack on a private yacht in over two years—and even then they were close to Madagascar—I’m not so bold to think we’re invincible or immune to the dangers. We won’t be anywhere near where that attack took place, but it is a real threat, and we all need to be aware of it.” He shrugged. “Look, it’s a vast ocean, and hundreds of private boats make this passage safely every season. I just need to be as prepared as possible.”

  I nodded. “I understand that, and I’ve lived here long enough to know that’s a concern, for sure. From what I hear, hijacking ships with large crews and large cargo means more bargaining power.”