4.16 The Abyss of WonderLand
The yacht had a bathroom and a small kitchen which held drinks and snacks. Timothy wanted to know about the safety equipment and made us all put on bright orange life jackets, which Bob named our straight jackets. Timothy was practically growling by then. “Lighten up,” I whispered into his ear while giving him a kiss. Ignoring the mumbling and the kiss, Captain Joe explained that the yacht also held radar, sonar, a depth finder, a VHF radio, and GPS. That (and my whisper) seemed to relax Timothy. Or, maybe it was the kiss? Captain Joe’s chief mate, Kyle, was much younger than the captain, whose gray hair and weathered face made him look to be in his late sixties. Kyle was maybe twenty-five, only slightly older than me, I guessed. He had a nice smile, but was too busy to engage with us. He was scurrying about the vessel, checking on things. He merely waved when introduced and continued working with the rope he was winding in a loop. We pushed off soon after, although none of us actually pushed, but we were told that was boat speech. Terry said another term was “shoving off,” which probably risked a Timothy growl, but my new fiancé only glanced at me, nodded, then looked out to sea. I rewarded him with a squeeze to his hand for being so calm. Timothy had rented the entire yacht. It was possible for twelve passengers to enjoy the cruise, but there would only be the four of us, plus the captain and his first officer. I wondered if the captain resented that, because otherwise he’d have had more people to “brag” to about his yacht, but I suppose it didn’t really matter to the man. He got paid as if we were a big crowd, and for a businessman that was the key thing. Timothy was always generous with everyone he hired, including his employee guards. I was super happy that he treated them so well. Providing the two men with cameras and binoculars went above and beyond, but, in my opinion, Timothy often had a problem with employees who slightly stepped out of their role. According to Timothy, Terry and Bob were supposed to be forever watchful and ready to defend us, not engaging with me or with others in needless conversation. But really, who was going to attack us out in the ocean. Whales and sea lions?
4.15 The Abyss of WonderLand
I finally prodded enough that Timothy relented and told me the day’s activity. I’d figured we were going out on a boat, but whale watching! The heavy coats and all the other stuff made sense then and so did the binoculars and cameras. I was by that time, practically jumping up and down. I’d always wanted to go whale watching, and San Diego was supposed to be one of the best locations for it. The water was warm and so whales fed right next to the coastline. I’d heard that we could get close to the giants, close enough that we could see their fins and blowholes, and maybe even a baby or two! We exited the hotel with no jerkface attempting to prey on us, acting exactly like one of the huge cats at the zoo or those evil-looking sharks at Seaworld. Not seeing Mr. Peters in attendance was super good news, and all three guys grinned with cocky smiles. I remembered the invading horde of reporters the day before and hoped that all the media would now leave us alone. The same chauffeur and limo were waiting for us in front of the grand hotel entryway. We took our seats on the lemon-smelling leather seats and sat back in comfort. The chauffeur had provided a thermos of coffee for us, but I was remembering that we’d soon be out on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I decided not to drink anything at all, not even the water Timothy was pushing at me. Everything was a streamline to the pier. No traffic at all. In minutes, we were climbing out of the limo to salty air, the smell of fish, and countless seagulls shrieking about their hunger for discarded sandwiches. **** “Gray whales, humpbacks, blue whales, fin whales, orcas, and dolphins are all possibilities for today,” Captain Joe told us after we’d clambered onto his vessel. Captain Joe’s gruff voice was filled with pride as he informed us about the forty-nine foot long vessel that he called a yacht. Knowing zip about boats, I took his word for it. Frankly. I didn’t know the difference between a boat, a ship, a vessel, and all the in-betweens, only that they all hopefully floated on the ocean waves, and the fact that sometimes some of them propelled people forward with motors that stank of gasoline. Captain Joe went on to brag about how fast his yacht could go, but since he told us in knots, he might as well have been speaking in Greek. Terry nodded sagely, as if he, also, was conversant in boat language. When Terry asked a question about the yacht’s restoration, Timothy gave the bodyguard a look, which was supposed to remind him that he was on a job, not acting as a tourist.
4.14 The Abyss of WonderLand
“But this is champagne. It doesn’t count,” Timothy told me. “Besides, I want to make a toast.” I took the glass he was handing me rather unwillingly. I had to admit, the sparkling clear liquid was beautiful, a faint amber color, and the smell was somewhat like newly baked bread with a touch of almond. And the glass it was in! Wow. My friends and I usually toasted each other with sparkling apple juice that we’d poured into plastic goblets. This flute was delicate and ringed with etchings at the bottom of its cone shape. The decoration was formed with tiny chips in the glass that made it shine like cut diamonds. “To us,” Timothy said, touching his champagne flute to mine. I stopped examining the fancy glassware and took a sip. The champagne wasn’t awful, just kind of tickly like carbonated water or soda when you just opened the can. I drank a little more, and then kept tasting it until I’d finished the whole glass. (There was hardly anything in the flute.) Timothy took my glass, then unrobed me. Finally, we’d gotten to the fun part. The rest of our evening proceeded favorably. In fact, the new room or my few sips of champagne made what followed like pure enchantment. No Sleeping Beauty or fairy tale princess received as sweet a night of loving as I did! *** The next morning, Timothy went to his magical closet, where he said he had provisions for everyone. The guys didn’t seem that interested in Timothy’s presents. They were hovering over our table, raiding our leftovers, although they admitted they’d already breakfasted a couple of hours before. The guards were too busy stuffing their mouths to watch what Timothy was doing, but I was eager to see whatever he’d bought us. I loved the silly hats and the adorable shirts and jackets he’d presented me with before. And I was especially delighted with the look on his face each time he doled them out. His eyes got all eager: shiny, luminous, and full of fun when he did. Timothy, with his back to everyone, started tugging out huge blue plastic bags. We couldn’t see inside, so it was great fun to see each item as it was pulled out. The guys got jackets, sunscreen, sunglasses, and hats. Timothy had bought us the same. They were heavy jackets and warm hats. Where were we going, Alaska? Next, Timothy pulled out binoculars, throw away cameras, a heavy wool sweater for me, and a small tube with sea sickness tablets, which he said we should all take before we needed them. When Bob looked disappointed, Timothy picked up another bag from the closet the guards cameras and binoculars, too, but theirs came with a scolding about remembering their priorities. Terry nodded. I’m not sure that Bob paid much attention. He was using the binoculars to stare out the hotel windows.
4.13 The Abyss
The manager, Gary Trofin, his badge stated, cleared his throat and said, “Your rooms are over this way, if you will be so good as to follow me.” Was he indicating we had to be good to follow him? I wanted to giggle, but I knew it would be inappropriate. I was just tired, punchy tired as Cara, Sammy, and I used to get when we’d toured an entire museum without any coffee break. The key cards were handed out, and the manager took off, scurrying away, no doubt, to oust the siege of reporters who’d laid a trap for us on our former floor. Would all the media be banned from the hotel? Would we suddenly be free from further pursuits? The layout of our new room was exactly like our old one, except missing all the niceties: the fresh fruit, treats, and flowers. But we had fresh towels and a luxurious bed, which I planned to try out the moment I felt clean again. Only I had no clothes to put on after my shower. As if reading my mind, which he’d probably done, Timothy opened the closet and pulled out two white robes. Over-sized and fluffy. Perfect. Dinner was ordered, then we showered, and lying on the bed in our soft, cottony robes, we waited to fill our tummies. We’d decided against something elegant and had chosen a vegetarian pizza. That and some herbal cinnamon tea and chocolate cake for dessert. Yes, we had a salad, too. We weren’t completely ignoring nutritional needs. The meal arrived almost an hour later. Speedy, the hotel wasn’t. Starved by then and wishing for the big bowl of apples, we dived into that pizza like prisoners getting our last meal. As pizzas go, it didn’t rate a ten, or even a seven, but it was there, and we were hungry. About the time the dishes were being cleared away, two maids knocked for entrance and, pushing large carts, they delivered our clothes and other possessions. The second cart held not only the apples, fresh treats, and cheeses, all skillfully and quickly moved to the room’s table, but a brand new bouquet of roses. Red ones. A card accompanied it with an apology from Gary Trofin and in addition, a bottle of champagne on ice. One of the maids asked if Timothy would like her to open the bottle, and he nodded. The woman popped it, and bubbly was poured into two glasses. Bobbing their heads to both of us with a quick nod and an even speedier good evening, the two women scurried out of the room, as if they feared we’d have more work for them to do. The two carts, then empty, were rolled squeakily out of the room. Timothy handed me a glass. “I don’t drink,” I reminded him.
4.12 The Abyss of WonderLand
Timothy gave me a quick squeeze. “They have a job to do, Penelope, and conversing with you is not part of it.” Wow, double sting for poor Bob. I gave him a quick sympathy look just before I started to step out of the elevator. I would have gone forward, but Timothy suddenly jerked me back and hit the close the door button. “That was our floor,” I said, slightly exasperated because I was super ready to put my feet up and relax in our luxurious suite. “Reporters are hanging out in the hallway,” Timothy said, looking back at the men, not at me. “Call the desk, Terry. This needs to be reported immediately.” Apparently, Mr. Peters had not been scorned as we’d assumed. He’d rallied his troops and invaded. Timothy’s cheekbones tightened. He looked like he was ready to sock somebody. I was tired from the day. I really, really didn’t want to play spy games with a bunch of reporters. “Can’t we just ignore them and head for our rooms?” I asked, despite the hardness in Timothy’s eyes as he glared at the elevator’s control panel. “Terry, get us new rooms and have the staff remove our things afterwards. I don’t trust this situation. Who does Simone know in San Diego?” Did I need a hair appointment or new clothes? What did Simone have to do with a crazed reporter? I wanted to ask, but sometimes it’s better to remain silent. The hotel manager himself met us on the ninth floor. He looked rather out of breath, but I’m sure he’d just used the other elevator to get up there ahead of us. He waved us forward and off the elevator. “I am very sorry for this. I was unaware. Of course, we can find you new rooms. This is an outrage, and I will have it taken care of at once.” The man was wearing a three-piece suit in gray charcoal. His tie was boring. It picked up the same gray tone as his suit and displayed black diamonds. Simone would have dubbed him unimaginative. Even the man’s hair seemed tedious and dull. The hotel manager could slide through a murder case, entirely unnoticed. I wondered if his wife would recognize him in a line-up. My grandmother would say that it was rude thinking such thoughts, but thoughts were private. The manager couldn’t read my mind like Timothy did. I glanced up to see Timothy’s eyes on me. As usual, he was amused. Yep, he’d definitely read those thoughts. He must think me a shrew of the worst kind to be so judgmental. Timothy leaned into me and pressed his mouth against my ear, “Not at all, my dear. You are the only part of this episode that can make me smile. Shrew or not, I find you absolutely adorable.”
4.11 The Abyss of WonderLand
But then I remembered what she’d told me in high school. “Don’t fall for the pretty boys. Everything has come too easy for them. They never learned how to struggle, so when they get older, they turn into whiny little boys in grown up men’s bodies.” Yet, even though Timothy was gorgeous, that didn’t describe him. He’d struggled in his earliest years. He’d fought with courage, industry, and determination. He’d had to grow up without parents, relatives or friends, and I knew that he would never become a whiny person. I wished I could explain that to my grandmother. I wished she were here with me, so I could. The elevator bell dinged as we hit another floor. The door slid open. I peeked into a hall that looked exactly like the one in our floor. It was a strange thought that there were mirrored ripples of rooms, each one filled with guests doing San Diego things. Had some of the people gone to the zoo and to Sea World? Had they spent their day inside an office, doing business things, unaware of the ocean so close by? San Diego was close to Mexico, a whole different country. I asked the guys how far it was as the elevator door silently slid closed. “Seventeen miles,” Terry said. “I looked it up, curious about the distance.” Timothy growled slightly, not in a vexed way, but as if I’d asked him if we could make a quick visit there. “We are not going across the border my darling. It’s not really safe anymore. Too many drug lords, ruffians, and criminals wanting to kidnap a pretty lady like you.” I nodded, pondering that. “Okay. I just wondered,” I said softly. “I’ve never been out of the United States. I’ve never been out of California, actually.” I laughed, more from embarrassment than because I thought it was funny. “Then we shall plan to honeymoon someplace in Europe. Which will it be: mountains, beaches, exotic, friendly, lots of coffee bars?” The last one had me laughing, this time in earnest. “Yes, to all that.” Bob laughed then, too. “Congratulations. A wedding is a good thing.” Terry’s elbow was bopping at Bob’s ribs. I guess the guys weren’t supposed to engage with me, but geez, they’d been with us for every hour of our adventure. It was hard not to include them in conversations. Timothy took a moment to give Bob a look: stern, judgmental, and authoritative. I ignored Timothy’s gruffness. “Thank you, Bob,” I said, still wondering if I’d made a commitment to go through with the marriage. Had I? Was it a certain thing? I mean, just because we’d discussed weddings. . . Hadn’t Timothy said he didn’t want to push me into one when I wasn’t ready?
4.10 The Abyss of WonderLand
Chapter Thirteen It was easy to take the beauty of the hotel for granted. I’d walked through its elaborate reception room a number of times, but I still had that first stunned moment at each entrance into the reception room. It was frankly stunning. The red carpet, the chandeliers, the classy seats and tables with individual lamps. I think it was the shine of it all that hit me mostly, as if lemon polish had just been applied to every piece of wood and someone had made the glass of the door and windows sparkle. And then there was the huge wooden desk with the women all in a line, doing whatever they were supposed to do, looking busy, but glancing up to smile each time anyone approached. Their hair was always immaculate, and their dresses were minus a single wrinkle. The bouquet of flowers, a fresh one each day, held a practiced display of color, even if the flowers stank. Oh, and the huge wooden bowl filled with red delicious apples. I couldn’t forget them, even though I no longer grabbed one as we passed by since we had a bowl full in our room. As we rounded the corner, my eyes took in the elevator. I think that was the item that caught my eye the most. How did someone get that kind of shine? Unfingered or smudged. A shine so brilliant, you could actually see yourself in the reflection as you waited for the doors to open and to step inside. Timothy pushed our buttons, five this time, just in case, then smiled down at me. “Your face shows me all that I now fail to observe on my own. Never lose that ability my darling. I hope you always see the beauty in simple things like the shine of an elevator door.” Timothy’s words startled me. Was my face that reflective. Was I like the shiny elevator door, providing an image of my inner mind? But I said nothing and only smiled back at him. It was easy to do that. Timothy’s smile produced smiles, not just from me, but from everywhere. He had that quality of charisma, I guess they called it. I wondered what my grandmother would have said. Would she have fallen under Timothy’s spell as I had?
4.9 The Abyss of WonderLand
I’ve heard that there are people who dislike zoos and hate Sea World even more. I guess it’s bad to train animals to entertain us, and they are keeping animals in captivity in the three SeaWorlds, but perhaps, the benefit is that the more people learn about these creatures, the more they will want to protect them. Also, according to Frank, SeaWorld has reached out and saved 42,000 sick, wounded, and orphaned animals. Once these animals are rehabilitated, they are set free, back into the wild. Additionally, Frank told us that the Conservation Fund sends money to protect sea creatures all over the world. That’s something, something super good. The two giant scoops of ice cream we each got at the old time ice cream parlor were far too big for me. I’d chosen chocolate flavors, of course, and they were both delicious, but I couldn’t finish mine. I gave the rest of my cone to Bob when Timothy didn’t want it. Terry scolded Bob, saying. “That’s an extra three laps in the morning.” Bob didn’t even look guilty for being a glutton. He lapped at the ice cream like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, even though he’d just finished off his own hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream and nuts. Terry stared at him and shook his head, but that didn’t bother Bob in the least. As we waited to hear from our driver, I was thinking about our day and about what we’d do the next day. Vacations always end, mostly when you’re not ready to return home, but I guess that’s a good thing. Otherwise home wouldn’t be home, right? Where would we be in the morning? Would we be flying home? (Horror of horrors. It was a short flight, I reminded myself.) I was just about to ask Timothy about what was coming next when we got the buzz that Alan was ready for us. We wiped up our mess, tossed our napkins, and walked out to the front where the limo was parked.
4.8 The Abyss of WonderLand
“The dolphins have whiskers at birth, but most species lose them as they grow,” Frank told us. Bob piped up, “That means they never have to shave.” I laughed. It was not only funny, but I’d been thinking a similar thing: no hair meant that Dolly didn’t have to shave her legs in the morning. Whoops, duh, no legs. When I started giggling over that, I had to sit down on the bench to get myself under control. Timothy took advantage of my moment of bench sitting to go up and touch the dolphin himself. I think the dolphin liked him best. She let out a squeak the moment she slid back into the water, then did a watery moonwalk, just for Timothy. Obviously, Timothy had charisma not just for human females, but for dolphin ones as well! Up until that moment, I hadn’t been sure that the dolphin liked us touching her. Frank told us that they were most sensitive on their snout, but their teeth were too sharp for me to reach out and touch one there. But, after Timothy rated such a tribute, I supposed that answered my question. It depended on who was doing the touching. We scurried off to see the beluga whales and the penguins. The penguins were adorable but smelly. But I absolutely loved the beluga whales. There were three of them: Allua, Klondike, and Oliver. They all looked the same to me, like triplets. But I guess their keepers could tell them apart. I asked Frank about seeing a manatee because I’d once read that Sea World had some, but Frank informed me that the manatees had been sent back to Florida. No more sea cows at Sea World. “We’ll just have to fly to Florida to see one then,” Timothy whispered in my ear, punctuating that with a gentle kiss. What a wild thought. I smiled at him, drugged by his nearness, but I was still conscious enough to shake my head. Stuff like that just wasn’t part of my life. A trip to Florida just to see a manatee? I laughed, a bit nervously because of his wild proposal. I could tell he meant it. We were all tired by that time of the day. I know we journeyed about on a cart, but there was still a lot of walking involved (and petting of strange creatures.) We were ready to say goodbye. There were a bunch of rides we could have gone on and more entertaining shows, but we said thank you to Frank and watched him drive off to the place where carts spent their night. As a finale, we decided to visit the ice cream parlor near the exit to wait for our limo driver to return to our drop off/pick up place. Of course, we ordered something. (We felt obligated. Ha ha.) Besides, the day was warm, our clothes were dry from the water ride and the animal splashes, and ice cream sounded ideal.
4.7 The Abyss of WonderLand
My least favorite part of the day was at the Flamingo Habitat. Flamingos are very beautiful birds, but they really stink. They were also extremely noisy. I’d thought they were like swans, elegant and mute. (Although when I mentioned that to Frank he told me that even the mute swan made a whistle sound, and then informed us that the trumpeter swans made a bunch of different noises, everything from honks to hisses.) When a couple of the flamingoes got into an argument, the noise level accelerated. Then they suddenly started poking each other with beaks and snapping at each other’s heads. It looked like they were having a dispute louder than the girlfriend/boyfriend combo in my apartment building that time. That couple had yelled, screamed, and called each other names for about twenty minutes. After their very loud and door-opening up and down the hall fight, both moved out of our apartment complex. I don’t know if they went in separate directions. I certainly hope so. But the flamingos seemed to get over their spat more quickly. They moved away from each other and went right back to doing their thing, which seemed to be leg juggling and water sipping. I won’t say that silence descended after that, but at least it wasn’t world war a la flamingo. I dreaded having an argument like that with Timothy. I just couldn’t bear it. “We will never have a spat like that, my darling,” he said, picking up the thought. “We are too attuned to each other.” Mind reading again. I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t move away. I liked his arm around me, and the way he sat closely whenever we watched some activity. In fact, I really, really liked everything about Timothy. He seemed to drip sweetness. (Amazing after my introduction to him when he’d seemed the most objectionable and the rudest person I’d ever met.) We left the salmon stinkball birds, and Frank took us to the Dolphin Adventures arena. That was an incredible show. I love dolphins. Who doesn’t? They are graceful, friendly, and adorable. Afterward the show, we got to get up close to them. Bob, always eager to stick his hand in a fish bucket, fed Dolly. I’d had enough of fishy substances and hung back, but I did reach out and touch her. Smooth and rubbery, kind of like the stingray. Frank told us their skin was hairless.