4.30 The Abyss of WonderLand
Why had I suddenly become so suspicious of him . . . and of us? What was the cause of my hesitation? Sure, I was young, but lots of couples married even younger. Some marriages began just after high school graduation. Yes, marrying Timothy would require my life to change. If I did, I’d have to adapt . . . But, why the if? I’d already committed to our relationship. I’d agreed to marry Timothy. I’d told him I would. We loved each other. We jived, as my roommates would have put it. We found bliss in bed. Wasn’t that a complete capitulation? No, not a capitulation. Capitulation meant defeat. Getting married didn’t mean I was surrendering to Timothy’s wishes. I wanted this relationship, too. It would be lovely to be with him fulltime. What did it matter where we spent that time? Why was I clinging to a past, wanting an apartment just because my grandmother had lived there? And why did I want to hold onto a job I really didn’t like? Timothy had left me to my thoughts to start up his shower. I listened as the water thundered, hitting the floor tile and one very hunky, handsome man, a man who wanted to marry me. Timothy was perfect, yet I continued hesitating as if . . . I heaved a giant sigh, stopping those doubts from forming ever bigger in my mind. I remembered something my grandmother used to say. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap. Didn’t that apply here? Before I allowed my overly cautious nature to drag me back again into uncertainty, I discovered that my feet were walking me towards the shower. I shed my clothes as I neared the room. Then, finally, naked, I opened the door to the bathroom. Grandma was right. Sometimes you just had to take a leap, and I was ready to do so. Amazingly, in deciding that, my heart sped up, and the uncertainties that had been plaguing me all day seemed to depart. The shower water was just the right temperature as I stepped inside: perfect, and so was the man whose arms enclosed me. And it was right. The End of the first draft of Book One: The Abyss of WonderLand
4.29 The Abyss of WonderLand
“They’ve spoiled us again,” Penelope said, noticing my appraisal of the table full of guest items. I noticed she wasn’t reaching for anything. She was probably too warn out, too exhausted from the day. Had I allowed her to get over-taxed? I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t help myself from spouting off. “I would spoil you every day if you wanted it, my darling, but I have figured out that you prefer the simplest things. Since jewels and orchids are not to your taste, I guess I’ll just have to focus on bunny slippers and shiny red apples.” She laughed, as I’d hoped she would. “And what should I buy for you?” she asked. “What is it that a rich man wants?” My mouth knew no caution. I blurted it out like a spoiled child. “A wife who loves me.” I gulped like a young boy, my voice turning raspy, quivery. Embarrassed, I turned to look out through the large picture window. Perhaps if I pretended to have been joking? Silence was her response. I read that as rejection. I stood up and walked toward the bathroom, grabbing my robe on the way. Penelope Timothy didn’t kiss me or touch my hand after those wistful words. He simply left the thought exposed in a kind of bleakness, as if that particular gift was something he thought he’d never receive and perhaps didn’t even deserve. I sat in silence, thinking about his voice, his words, and then about the day we’d just shared. Then my mind wandered off, into the past three days. Timothy on the airplane ride. His patience over my ridiculous fears. The way he’d looked handing out the shirts and jackets he’d bought me, his eyes all lit up as if his major joy came from doling out presents. And there were the many moments of shared delight in the animals we’d seen during our zoo visits. Our exchanges and whispered words. The kisses, too, and all the lovely moments under the green bedspread here in the hotel room. Oh, my. But, even before that, the way he’d wanted my opinion on various paintings. The encouragement. The support. The listening. Timothy had been wonderful — every moment. And I loved him. Wholeheartedly.
4.28 The Abyss of WonderLand
There were thankfully no reporters hanging out in front of our door that day. The guys headed for their own rooms, and Timothy and I walked inside ours, then slumped down into a couple of comfy leather chairs. I think we were too tired to move. I glanced over at him. His face was lined, pallid and almost sickly. Had he gotten too much sun? Had the ocean cruise depleted his energy? Or was he tired of me, ready to go home, eager to do so, in fact. Perhaps Timothy was ready for someone more vivacious, more model-like, more sophisticated. I’d been afraid of that before. Now the feelings swept over me once again. Insecurities rushed in. I felt like a sagging helium balloon, my buoyancy almost touching the ground. Timothy It was all I could do not to focus on her words: She wanted to go home, to move back into her apartment, and to return to her job. Penelope’s words were barbed tips of arrows piercing my skin. Didn’t she realize that? Yet, she’d only stated the truth, the way she saw it. All I desired was for Penelope to stay with me, to be with me in a relationship that lasted the rest of our lives — while she longed only to return to her tiny apartment . . . and her simple life. That was the essence of it. She favored a life separate from mine. It wasn’t that I was a pooka. I think Penelope had accepted that part of my existence. But she wasn’t ready to exchange her life for what I envisioned. Could I deal with that? Could I let her go? And what choice did I have? I had given it my best, but I’d failed. As I sat in the chair, too shattered by the catastrophe, I tried not to show my feelings. I needed to carry on, to give Penelope the independence she so craved, but I felt sick inside. I felt exactly as Andrew must have felt when his wife turned on him, desolation. Penelope was eying the table where the hotel staff had left our usual platter of delectables, all of it sitting on ice. Today’s bounty held red-waxed cheeses, some grapes and strawberries without chocolate, and some fresh slices of melon. In a bowl where her favorite Red Delicious apples had been, there was a fruit basket filled with greenish-yellow bananas, apples, pears, kiwi, and plums. Beside that bowl sat a platter of cookies, the pretty kind that usually tasted like cardboard with a bit of sugar. Each cookie looked to be individually sealed in plastic.
4.27 The Abyss
When we returned to the hotel, I was disappointed that the fancy lobby seemed to have lost some of its appeal. All of a sudden, it looked cold and over-decorated. How had it moved from glamourous to only highly ornate? The same chandeliers sparkled down at me. The outer circular door was so clean it looked like the glass wasn’t even there. And my old favorite, the polished and glossy copper elevator was unexpectedly just an elevator. Timothy turned to look at me. “Getting jaded already?” he asked with a smile. I shrugged. “I love San Diego. Everything we’ve seen has been incredibly marvelous, but I guess I just want to go home. I want to move back into my apartment, to return to my job, and to gaze at the paintings in your gallery. San Jose is calling me,” I said with a laugh. He nodded, then smiled. “Yes, I know what you mean. I really do understand. Let’s rest here tonight. I’ll get us tickets for a flight out tomorrow, if you’re sure this isn’t just fatigue from the ocean trip talking.” We’d reached the elevator. Terry punched the right button, the one that went to our room on the new floor. I stepped inside and then sort of leaned against Timothy. He was right. I was tired, but, also, I yearned to go home. The guys had been listening to the conversation. Bob said, “No more delicious apples? No more zoos or whale watches?” I shrugged again. “It has been fun, but being spoiled gets tedious. When we no longer appreciate shiny doors, bowls of apples, or chocolate covered strawberries, then it’s time to go. My grandmother used to say that familiarity feels comfortable because it’s home.” Terry opened his mouth to speak but then shut it as quickly. He swallowed his words, then asked, “So should we be ready to head out in the morning, Boss?” Timothy glanced down at me, smiled, then nodded. “Unless Penelope changes her mind during the night.” I laughed and shook my head. “Nope. Time to go home.”
4.26 The Abyss of WonderLand
Despite the beauty of the day and my wonder at seeing so many incredible creatures, I was ready to get off the boat by the time we returned to port. The captain was steering the yacht to the same pier from which we’d disembarked. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the ocean breeze seemed to have stilled, so it felt luxuriously delicious to feel the warmth on my skin. (Although some of that warmth might be caused from having already gotten too much sun from our long day at sea?) The captain pulled up into his spot. Kyle jumped off and strapped the boat in securely. Yes, that probably wasn’t the right terminology. When we reached the wooden pier or dock, and the yacht slipped into its berth, Kyle picked up the loops of heavy rope and moored the vessel by tying it to the solid metal cleats. Once he finished all that, it was time for us to step off. Kyle stood there, offering his hand to each of us. Terry went first, followed by Bob. Then it was my turn. It was the strangest thing. As I disembarked off the gangplank and stepped onto the more or less stable pier, my legs felt shaky, as if I’d forgotten how to walk on land. For a moment, I missed the sway from the ocean water. Did that mean I’d earned my sea legs? Thanks to Timothy calling our reliable limo driver from the yacht’s deck as the vessel chugged into the berth, Alan, the chauffeur, was waiting for us. The four of us climbed inside the behemoth vehicle, which had arrived the moment we walked off the wooden surface of the pier to trod onto the parking lot. Alan greeted us with a smile and opened the door, offering his hand to me. As we crawled in, each of us sank into the luxurious seats and gave a big sigh of contentment. Even the guys looked exhausted, their faces slightly smudgy with grime, which was puzzling since the yacht had been immaculate. Perhaps they’d touched a post or beam on the pier and accidentally swabbed their faces? Inside the limo, almost at the same moment, we each reached for a bottle of chilled water. What is it about being on a liquidy ocean that makes you want to drink more fluids? Timothy opened my bottle, something he was prone to do, as if I couldn’t do it myself, but it was a simple curtesy, no matter how silly it seemed. I smiled happily. This had been the best day of my life. Of course, each of our other days in San Diego had been best days, too. I had a feeling that was due to Timothy. He was pretty great! In fact, I was falling for him — truthfully, already crazy in love. What would my grandmother say? I mentally shrugged. It was too late now. My smile was a permanent crease on my lips. My heart was open wide.
4.25 The Abyss of WonderLand
Kyle said we could come back for snack seconds in the galley, as he called it. He told us that was the official name for the kitchen on a yacht, but he also mentioned a scullery and a mess. More boat talk. (The captain had already told us about the aft, which was the back, and the bow, which was the front of the boat, while Kyle had taught us that the head was a bathroom, which made absolutely no sense to me because it seemed like we used the head for the opposite end of our bodies!) While Kyle was treating us to our latest batch of boat vocabulary words, (port, port bow, port quarter, starboard, starboard bow, starboard quarter and stern, which I’m not going to describe because I can’t remember any of it.) Anyway, while he was doing that, he handed out more bottles of water. The sun was out, and even with a very pleasant breeze, we were all feeling parched. Even the two bodyguards chose water that time, instead of beer. It was at that time that Kyle recommended we all reapply our suntan lotion. Because drawing attention to it, made me aware that my skin was already reacting to the heavy doses of sunshine on ocean top. After we creamed our bodies and drank more water, I finally used my binoculars for the first time: rolling water, a bit of white caps here and there, lots of sea birds, and six boats off in the distance. The captain wasn’t talking. I think he was taking a bathroom break, so the three men talked about the photos they’d gotten. I was the only one not to have taken a picture. “We’re approaching another sighting,” the captain suddenly said, having climbed back on his post. We once more rushed over to the side he told us to go to. (I can’t remember the nautical term, but I just followed the captain’s pointer finger.) This time, we saw a tail. The whale posed it up in the air for a moment, and then he was gone. Not a very spectacular performance, but it was okay because another pod of dolphins had decided to hang out with us for a while. The rest of the trip was not quite as exciting. The whales had decided to stay down in the deep. The pod of dolphins soon deserted us. A lone sea lion swam by, giving us the eye, as if inspecting us to see if we were worth his time. We failed to be of interest. The captain started talking about birds as we waited for any further whale showings. He gestured to lots of shearwaters, a cormorant, several pelicans, and a sea of seagulls, if you get the pun. And if we’d taken a count, I know we might have gotten a prize for seeing the most dolphins, all of them the common dolphin, according to Captain Joe. How anything as beautiful and graceful as a dolphin can be called common, I’ll never understand. Ornithologists, the ones who named the dolphins that common name, shame on you!
4.24 The Abyss of WonderLand
The whale surfaced and blew out a big shoot of water. “It’s a gray whale,” the captain said, but I didn’t care. I was seeing my first real whale, one out in the ocean and free! He was the most gorgeous, unbelievable, incredible creature I’d ever seen in my life. “Get a picture,” Bob cried out, and I remembered my camera at that moment, but I was frozen. I couldn’t look away from the beauty of the whale. Perhaps beauty wasn’t the best description. The whale we were watching was saddled with hundreds of big patches of barnacles. I wanted to jump into the water and pull them off of him, one by one. It seemed so unfair that he should have to carry such a burden. The captain, when I asked about the patches, explained that the barnacles stayed on a whale for life. He told me that sometimes a gray whale had to carry hundreds of pounds of barnacles as he streamed through the water. And the nasty things never let go! This particular whale remained on the surface for several moments of frozen time, then decided to go back down. He didn’t wave a fin at us or jump out of the water or anything. He seemed completely oblivious to us and to the other boats surrounding him, all at a considerable distance. “That one’s an old male,” the captain said. I didn’t ask how he knew such things. The captain was an experienced whale watcher, so I just assumed he knew. When the whale was gone, I sank onto our benchlike seat and drank the rest of my bottled water. Timothy sat down beside me. “Happy?” he asked. That was the silliest question I’d ever been asked. I threw my arms around Timothy and kissed him fully on the mouth. Despite our audience, we enjoyed the moment. But then I suddenly realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. Urgently. I’d finished the bottle of water, and now . . . “I gotta go,” I said, bolting up. I would have been fine to walk there on my own. I knew where the bathroom was, since Kyle had told us, but Timothy walked me there anyway. The boat was stopped, and we were swaying with the ocean, rocking back and forth, so I was actually grateful to have Timothy by my side, holding me steady. As the captain had said, we didn’t have our sea legs yet. After I came out, Timothy followed my example. Then Bob and Terry showed up just as Timothy was coming out. Apparently, the consumed liquid and all the excitement had hit us at the same time. When we returned to our seating area, Kyle came around with a selection of snacks. He even had some half sandwiches that Bob grabbed onto. I swear that guy could eat more than a grizzly bear preparing for winter. But Terry also selected a couple of sandwiches. It seemed he he was hungry, too. I chose a red apple, of course. Timothy took some black licorice. I laughed at that. Who could have pictured Timothy liking licorice?
4.23 The Abyss of WonderLand
Kyle returned with cold drinks. I chugged down water, although it wasn’t hot that day. It was actually cold due to the ocean breeze, but I felt parched anyway. I noticed the others were doing the same thing. Terry had downed his beer before I managed a second sip from my water bottle, and Bob wasn’t far behind, tipping his can to drink the last dregs. “Monitor the amount,” Timothy ordered, watching Terry, especially. Did Terry have a drinking problem? I wondered/ But as soon as the thought hit me, I knew it was silly. Timothy would never hire someone who over-boozed. “As I was saying,” the captain went on with his lecture. “Whales are warm-blooded.” That warm-blooded part was hard to believe. If I were a whale, I’d demand a heater, a sleeping bag, and a heavy wet suit, none of which whales had access to in the depths of the ocean. The water was super cold. Even in San Diego, the water that had sprayed us as the yacht chugged forward, felt icy. San Diego was a lot warmer than in the north where we lived. People did go swimming in Santa Cruz, but, but only in August or inside full wet suits. If someone dove into the ocean just in a swimsuit, they’d be shivering in minutes. Yes, I know, all the whale blubber helps to keep them warm, but really. Warm blooded? Everything we were being told about the whales was absolutely amazing!! An alarm suddenly sounded. The captain ran back up to the captain’s perch, or whatever they called it. He didn’t look panicked. “What’s wrong?” I asked Timothy, not that I expected him to know, but it did seem like he always had experience with things I didn’t. “It’s fine, Penelope. There’s no boat near us, and even though we’re slowing down, I don’t think it’s a break-down of the motor. No reason to get nervous, darling.” Actually, I hadn’t been overly nervous until Timothy said that. But at that moment, I realized how far we were from the shore, from the concrete and solid harbor where we’d embarked. I won’t say that I panicked, but, we were currently in the middle of the ocean, way too far to swim back to shore. That was a a bit of a panicky thought. But not really. Not with boats all around. And the captain had a radio, and . . . “We have a whale sighting. Look starboard. Over there, land lovers,” the captain suddenly said, pointing to the other side of the boat. Like we had with the dolphins, the four of us all sped to the railing and stared out at the sea, hoping to see a fin or the tail-tail oil slick we’d been told to look for. That was what the captain had told us was a whale’s footprint. A moment later, I saw water shooting up into the sky. “There!” I called out. “That’s a whale, isn’t it?”
4.22 The Abyss of WonderLand
“The dolphins like to catch our wake,” the captain said. “I guess it’s like boogie boarding, at least that’s what a teenager told me.” We each had binoculars on a cord around our necks, but none of us bothered to use them. The dolphins weren’t swimming at a distance. They were right under our boat, their eyes staring up at us, quizzingly. One came so close I could have reached out to touch him, but the captain had warned us not to do that. Dolphins were playful, but they were wild. One of them might grab a person’s hand and pull him down into the water. “A woman drowned that way,” the captain had told us. “Not on my craft, though. I’d never let a passenger do something that stupid.” “Why did they grab her?’ Bob asked. The explanation was that the dolphins probably just wanted to play with the woman. The captain sighed and gave a head shake that involved a disgusted snort. “We’ll never know what wild animals are thinking since they can’t talk to us. Perhaps they don’t understand that humans need more air than they do. Maybe they figured the woman could survive without breathing? Who knows. But humans are fragile, even more so than dolphins. Before the boat’s crew could rescue her, the woman was gone. She’d drowned. No teeth marks, of course. No sign of violence other than being dragged into the water.” I could understand the woman’s temptation to touch the dolphins, to reach out and connect with them. There was something in the way the dolphins tilted their heads and made their funny sounds: clicking, barking, squealing, wailing like babies, and entreating us to come play with them. But the dolphins were also opening and closing their mouths, and we could see the heavy rows of teeth. Dolphins were carnivores, and even though the captain assured us that they wouldn’t eat a person and preferred fish, I had absolutely no inclination to dive in and swim with them. The dolphins remained with us for less than ten minutes, then sped off, probably looking for more entertainment among the boats we could see in the distance. Captain Joe said a school of dolphins could swim more than twenty miles an hour. That was easy to believe because one moment, the dolphins were bobbing about in their wonderful silliness, and then suddenly like a speeding jet, they were gone, only a silver image in the water, that disappeared in seconds.
4.21 The Abyss of WonderLand
Kyle came running, nodded to each of us, then asked what we’d like. “We got beers, sodas, water, fruit juice, wine, and liquor. What’s your poison?” he said. The guy first turned to Timothy, probably figuring him to be the big shot of the group. (Does rich shine from the pores? Is it something in their eyes? Do the rich carry themselves differently than us poor folk?) Timothy glanced down at me. “What would you like, darling?” my fiancé asked, ignoring the fact that Kyle had been addressing him. Wow. Now I’d thought that word twice. Fiancé, it did sound nice. I almost purred around the word, rolling it about my tongue. “A bottle of water, please,” I said, realizing that everyone was staring at me. “Do you guys have coffee?” Timothy asked. “My girl always wants coffee.” “Sure,” Kyle said. “We’ve got a coffee pot, but coffee sometimes makes folks seasick. I don’t recommend it unless you’ve got your sea legs already.” “Just, water,” I repeated, not wanting to risk that. Vomiting over the side of the boat definitely didn’t appeal. Terry and Bob both asked for a beer. Timothy, like me, requested water. “Okay, now that we have all that settled,” the captain continued. “Where were we? Oh yes, Mammals,” he continued. “Look,” Terry suddenly called out. And there they were, not whales, but dolphins, an entire school of them. Probably twenty or more, if I could count that fast, because they were spinning and walking backwards on their tails, then whirling around, and diving under the yacht, only to return in seconds. It was so cool. These weren’t the tamed or trained dolphins of Sea World, but wild animals that had come up from the depths of the sea just to flirt with us. Some of them were doing the same spectacular jumps in the air we’d watched the day before in the Dolphin Arena. At the amusement park, those dolphins had worked for fish and were given whistled prompts to do their tricks. These wild dolphins were doing their fancy moves just for the pure fun of it.