by Rita Lakin
They are stuffing themselves with an enormous breakfast.
“Sleep well?” Evvie asks, dripping sarcasm.
“Like on a cloud with the boat rocking us in its arms,” says Sophie, waxing poetic as she mixes metaphors.
“We’re supposed to play bingo at nine and we haven’t even registered yet. We’re definitely going to be late.”
Evvie says to them, “You’re done, go over to the big auditorium and pick up our stuff and get us a big table or a booth.”
They look startled. “But we don’t know the way,” Sophie whines.
“It’s where we went for the orientation meeting,” I remind her.
Now Bella, whiner number two, is heard from. “Who can remember?”
Evvie points. “Walk out the door, turn left. Go to the very end, and if you fall off the boat and end up in the ocean and drown, you went too far. We’ll eat something quickly and meet you there. Try to get us seats up front so we can hear and see.”
Holding hands, they scamper out, looking back at us in terror.
We hurry through cold cereal and coffee and toast. Evvie doesn’t want to miss the start of the tournament.
The auditorium is a mob scene with much pushing and shoving and shouting. Most of the crowd are women in an assortment of bingo shirts with tacky bingo slogans.
“Oh, boy,” says Evvie, “we threw our girls into a lion’s pit. I feel guilty.”
We make our way through the crowd, and it isn’t easy. There must be about five hundred people jockeying for seats. If they play bingo the way they ram and shove, we’re in a lot of trouble.
“There they are.” Evvie looks where I point. I can’t believe it. They’re actually in a front-row booth.
When we reach them we have to smile. Their hair’s a mess, lipstick smeared, clothes askew. They are grinning with satisfaction. Mission accomplished.
Evvie congratulates them. “How’d you manage?”
Bella is proud. “Sophie held me around my middle and just pushed me, and I butted people out of our way. But they were really mean. They tried to grab our booth away from us.”
Bella points at the adjoining booth where two tough-looking gals glare at us. They are in their fifties, both wearing bingo shirts and each holding a doll dressed in clothes made out of bingo cards. In front of them is a sign announcing that they are the Bingo Dolls from Tucson.
The mean-looking woman on the right sneers at us. “That’s always our table,” she insists.
Bella straightens to her full four foot ten, puts her hands on her hips, and says, “Oh, yeah, sez who?”
I try to make peace by introducing us to the Dolls. They tell us they are Judy, who wears a T-shirt that reads “I’m a bingo-holic,” and Rose, whose shirt reads “To hell with housework, I’d rather play bingo.”
Apparently, they take this cruise every year. In fact, each of them won a game last time, and they predict one of them is going to be the big winner of this one.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Sophie huffs.
She and Bella turn their backs on them and the Dolls do the same to us.
Bella whispers, “I have the same T-shirt as that Judy. I’m gonna wear that one tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” says Sophie, “we’ll show ’em.”
By now one of the bingo coordinators is on-stage, standing in front of the huge lit-up bingo board. He tells a few corny jokes, reads the rules, and it’s time to play. Like a football coach in the locker room, he shouts us on. “Are we ready?”
The crowd screams, “Yes!”
“Which lucky person is gonna win game one?” And of course there is a roar of “Me” from all over the huge room and a waving of lucky charms that people brought along. Naturally, our unfriendly neighbors are waving their dolls.
Sophie and Bella are wiggling up and down in the booth.
“It’s every man for himself!” says the male coordinator to the roomful of mostly women. “Let’s play bingo!”
Game packs are passed around; brightly colored daubers are at the ready.
Evvie and Ida (poor absent Ida must be miserable about not being here) are highly competitive and deadly serious about winning. When they don’t win (which is ninety-nine percent of the time), they take it as a personal affront. Bella actually dislikes bingo as much as she dislikes playing cards, because it is much too complicated for her, but the misery is worth it as long as she can be with us.
As for me, I love puzzles and games of all kinds, but I certainly don’t find bingo relaxing. And I don’t expect to win with these odds. Sophie is not as emotionally involved as the others but she is very much into the fashions. She now has a collection of about twenty bingo shirts with their rather lowbrow sayings, and she feels undressed if she isn’t wearing one. Today’s choice has the slogan: “What does the wife say to the husband who will divorce her if she won’t give up bingo? I’ll miss you.”
Except for Bella, the rest of us wouldn’t be caught dead in them.
One minute to go—we high-five each other for luck.
Like Thoroughbreds at the gate, my pals wait with bated breath for that first number out of the cage. And we’re off!
And it’s a familiar song and dance. Evvie is already bitching.
End of the Crazy Letter L game: “I was only two away.”
End of the Hardway Six-pack game, she says, annoyed, to Sophie: “I was on. I needed your lucky number three!”
“So, it’s my fault my lucky number only loves me?”
“These are the worst cards I’ve ever had,” Evvie says.
“You think you have rotten cards…” Sophie answers.
“Well, I’m on, so naturally someone is going to yell—”
“Bingo!” And it’s our neighbor, Rose. She smirks at us as she collects two hundred and fifty dollars.
The girls are openly jealous. Boy, do they take this game seriously.
Sophie has a different opera going on with Bella. Bella can’t keep up, so this is their duet:
“Soph, what was that last number?”
“It was B-five.”
“I got that one. Maybe it was the one before.”
“Why don’t you watch the monitor?”
“I am watching the monitor.”
“Watch closer.”
“What did you say? You know I don’t hear good.”
Sophie shouts, “Watch the monitor! Now you made me miss a number. Evvie, what did he just call?”
“Quiet! I’m concentrating. Don’t bother me.”
And the Bingo Dolls next door chime in: “Will you all shut up!”
And so it goes.
The letter Z comes and goes, as does the inside layer cake and crazy arrow, and our packs are getting very thin.
And finally it’s over. Thank God. I’m exhausted. The Bingo Dolls make faces at us as they leave.
Evvie says to Sophie, “I sure hope you reserved this booth for Wednesday.”
“No chance,” she answers. “No reserved seats. First come, first served.”
Bella blanches. “You mean we have to go through this every time?”
The girls go back to our staterooms to see how Ida is doing. I volunteer to check on what to do in Puerto Rico, our first stop tomorrow.
I am looking through the colorful brochures in the travel section of the main lobby when I see Amy Larkin pacing aimlessly near the purser’s office. I make my way through the large numbers of people who are planning their first day ashore.
“Amy?” I look at her questioningly.
She shakes her head. “No sign of them.”
“What did the purser tell you?”
“Well, he looked them up, and apparently one of the women canceled a few weeks ago. The other two must be no-shows. It’s silly of me—I was so sure we’d all show up, I never bothered to call anyone to confirm.”
“I’m so sorry, this must be a letdown for you.”
“I guess people make plans and other things come up that are more impor
tant.”
“But they all made their reservations,” I point out. I think about what her room must have cost. “Well, I certainly hope they all got their money back.”
Amy smiles. “I doubt it, but believe me, losing that money wouldn’t matter to them.”
“Join us for dinner again. And if you want, please come ashore with us tomorrow.”
“Thanks. You and your friends are being very kind.”
Tonight’s dinner theme is Italian. We are dressed up for the evening, wearing long dresses we brought for the occasion. We have our hair done up, makeup, the works. I must say we haven’t worn these outfits in years and it’s fun.
But we are no match for the waiters, who are dazzling in their fancy costumes. In between courses—which consist of every pasta imaginable in every imaginable sauce—the waiters sing and dance, snaking their way around the room picking guests to join them.
Finally Sophie can’t sit still another moment. She leaps up, and the look on her face when she’s wedged between two of the handsome waiters is something wonderful to see. Bella applauds as she dances around our table.
Ida sits quietly, eating very little, mostly nibbling on tiny bits of bread, keeping her eyes averted from any soup plates passing by.
Stuffed as usual (except for Ida), we finally leave the dining room for the rest of the evening. Ida is going to try the casino. Amy wants to go to the chamber music concert in the library, and the new twins, Sophie and Bella, are going to take cha-cha lessons. With a map of the ship in hand, Sophie is feeling braver about finding her way without the rest of us. I intend to do some serious cruising along the deck to walk off the massive amount of food I shouldn’t have eaten.
Tonight we find an elephant and a puppy made of towels waiting for us in our staterooms, but this time we take these little surprises in stride. All five of us get in our “jammies” and settle down on the three beds and, like girls at a sleepover, we drink another round of Mai Tais and tell of our night’s adventures.
Ida tells us how she got a great slot machine and won five bucks. Of course she put in three bucks to get there, but it did last for the whole two hours and she did win. At least it took her mind off being hungry.
I tell them about all the fun games on the decks and the crowds that spent the evening swimming and hot-tubbing to a rock-and-roll band.
Bella and Sophie are ecstatic about their cha-cha lesson and the sexy hunk with curly black hair who taught them. “Señor Roberto, mmmm.” Bella drools. “I want to take that green-eyed doll home with me.”
“Not if I grab him first,” giggles Sophie.
“In your dreams,” Ida says.
“Could we take private lessons?” Sophie asks.
“Too expensive,” Evvie, our treasurer, answers.
“If she does, I want to, too,” says Bella. “It’s nice to have a handsome guy’s arm around me.” She blushes.
Which makes me think about my handsome guy, left behind, and angry at me.
What am I doing on this stupid trip when I’d rather be home?
33
Going Ashore
It’s early morning and already there are large crowds. Everyone is carrying cameras, sun hats, and such, eager to explore our first destination off the ship. To get our feet on land again. San Juan, Puerto Rico, here we are.
Knowing my group, I have been nagging: “Do not forget your pass. If you do, you can’t go ashore. Do not lose your pass. If you do, getting back on board will be one hell of a lot of trouble.” All I get for my pains is a couple of offhand yeah, yeahs. This is not reassuring.
Amy Larkin is with us. She’ll have to wait until later to see the purser, since we’re going out so early—but by now she’s resigned to being alone on the cruise. And annoyed at being stood up.
Ida is glad the ship is parked right at the shore. She hates the idea of being on one of those small tenders, rocking from the ship to the shore in choppy waters. We just walk down the gangway and right into San Juan’s famous Old Town.
Which doesn’t look all that old: the first store I spot is a Harley-Davidson Motorcycle gift shop. Hmmm.
Evvie, the self-appointed tour guide, has suggested we get on one of the cute, colorful trolleys that passes by and ride around to get an “overview.” Then we’ll get off when we find someplace that catches our eye.
“So, what’s our plan?” Sophie wants Evvie to lay it out. She and Bella can hardly contain their excitement.
“Touring by trolley first, then some walking and shopping, then lunch.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Amy says. “I was here six weeks ago, on the ship’s last bridge/bingo cruise, and my friends and I found a good authentic Puerto Rican restaurant. And afterwards, the most interesting place of all to see is the fort, El Morro.”
“That sounds great to me,” I say.
“The shopping part is my favorite.” Sophie is already zeroing in on her favorite pastime.
“I like the lunch part,” adds Bella.
Ida agrees. She intends to eat a lot on shore, in a place where soup doesn’t move.
The trolley arrives and there is already a large crowd waiting. Tourists are pushing their way in. I lose sight of the girls as they head toward the rear.
I grab a seat up front with Amy. She looks pale to me. “Are you all right?”
I can see her fidgeting with her wedding ring. “No, not really. I think this whole business of not finding my bridge partners has shaken me. I’m beginning to imagine things.”
“Such as?”
“Last night I couldn’t fall asleep. I guess I tried to go to bed too early. Around ten o’clock, I got dressed again and went for a walk around the deck. Many people were out strolling, but I had the weirdest feeling, like someone was following me.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. But when I went back to my stateroom, my patio door seemed different. It was as if something had pulled it slightly off its hinge.”
I am getting alarmed at this. “You mean ‘someone’?”
She hesitates. “No. No, of course not.” But when she looks down at her thin hands, they are shaking. “I’m just being silly and overanxious.”
“Maybe you have good reason. We should talk to a crew member when we get back.”
Amy tries to make light of it. “What if there’s a jewel thief on board? I should leave a note. ‘I didn’t bring any of my good jewelry with me.’”
We both chuckle at that. But as the trolley tour guide begins to announce the landmarks we are passing, I wonder if I should press Amy to tell the ship’s authorities about her concerns. But then I remind myself that I’m supposed to be forgetting about these “imagined conspiracies,” as Morrie calls them, while I’m on this cruise.
We ride around the town center. The buildings themselves are very old, but not the shops in them. Their names aren’t familiar, J. Machini and Serenity, but they seem like very expensive Puerto Rican businesses. Many of them look like jewelry stores. And many are beautiful crafts shops, like the Butterfly People. Sophie and Bella can hardly wait to shop. Evvie insists, “Culture first.” So we get on and off the trolley at various spots and Amy fills us in on the many churches, as well as the statues and plazas. We are impressed with the elegant El Convento hotel that actually was once a convent.
When we stop at the statue of Ponce de León, Evvie asks with a sigh, “Why didn’t he ever tell us where that Fountain of Youth was?” That’s a sentiment we all share.
Finally, with feet hurting and stomachs grumbling, we let Amy lead us down De la Cruz Street to a charming little restaurant called Spanglish.
The inside is small, two rooms, but very inviting. The owner is there with his wife and mother and his adorable children. Everyone makes us feel very comfortable, even though the Puerto Rican menu on the blackboard is intimidating. But the wonderful smells relax us.
We are sitting at our table in the front room, drinking sangria and listening to our waiter translate the food
choices, when I hear someone calling, “Gladdy Gold. Can I believe my eyes? Is that you?”
All of us turn to look through the doorway into the second room, where a familiar figure in black is making her way toward us, pushing her walker ahead of her.
It can’t be—but it is! Angelina Siciliano! And right behind her is the fearful Mr. Macho himself, Elio!
For a moment, we are all speechless. Then Elio laughs. “You broads still following us?”
Evvie quips back, “Maybe you’re following us.”
Our waiter quickly pulls up two more chairs and seats them. With that, we practically fill the entire front room.
Everyone is talking at once, trying to figure how this could be. The Sicilianos are on their second honeymoon; Angelina reminds me that she told me about it. With that she reaches over and gives Elio a sloppy, wet kiss and Elio wipes it off, embarrassed. “All because of you girls,” Angelina says, almost kittenish.
“Yeah,” Elio growls at us. “She never leaves me alone. I liked it better when she hated me.”
“And we entered a bingo contest,” Evvie explains.
“And won a cruise. On the Heavenly,” Ida adds.
“No!” says Angelina in surprise. “We’re on the same ship.”
The same ship. What a coincidence! Evvie and I exchange glances. We introduce the Sicilianos to Amy, then we chat about what sights to see, and we agree to meet them tonight for cocktails at Elio’s favorite hangout on board, the Devil’s Own Bar.
They take their leave of us and, for a moment, we sit, still stunned.
“How about that.” Ida states what we’re all thinking. “How amazing!”
But despite my best intentions, the word “coincidence” stays in my head. Is it?
Amy is right, El Morro Fort is truly magnificent. This stone edifice is compared in historical importance to the Great Wall of China and the Pyramids of Egypt. Just standing inside it awes one with its power. Amy, our history buff, states that it was built in 1540 to protect the city from sea attacks. Four hundred and sixty-five years ago and it’s still standing! It has six levels, a height of 140 feet, and walls twenty feet thick—at one time it had more than 450 mounted guns.
