4.20 The Abyss of WonderLand
Captain Joe had begun his lecture by explaining about whale migration. He told us that we were going out at a good time of year. December to April is ideal for observing the various cetaceans and other marine mammals, he told us, for that’s when these beautiful mammals swim north during their yearly journey. That’s when I learned that whales were mammals. They have hair when they are born the captain told us. (Humpback whales even keep the hair on their faces. Does that mean they have beards, moustaches or whiskers I wanted to ask.)Whales breathe air just like we do, except the captain explained that they can hold their breath a lot better than we can. He told us that whales don’t need to breathe for a good thirty to ninety minutes, depending on the species. We were also informed that whales gave birth to their young underwater. I couldn’t imagine producing a baby (a very big baby) in the middle of the ocean! But at least those babies never cried in the middle of the night, and no diapers were ever needed. (Of course that means they pooped in the ocean. If you think about all the fish and whales swimming around, plus sea snakes, octopuses, squid, and sea turtles, that’s a lot of poop! Good thing the ocean is so big.) When Captain Joe added that the whale mother produces milk for their calves, Bob let out a, “No way. They don’t have any boobs, do they?” I thought Timothy was going to go ballistic. I tightened my hold on his hand, and he looked down at me. “Sorry, my darling. I didn’t mean to employ uncouth thugs.” Bob heard that and grew white as a bone. “Sorry, Penelope. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just . . .” He stopped due to the elbow in his ribs from Terry, so he probably didn’t see Timothy’s glare. The captain merely waited for us to simmer down. “You can’t see their mammary glands because the mother has inverted nipples. When the calf nudges one, the nipple pops out with milk that is extremely fat-rich. A baby can drink ten percent of its body weight per day. That is a lot of milk!” The captain chuckled so hard we all ended up joining in. We were still laughing when he continued. “A blue whale can give her baby about fifty-three gallons a day. We couldn’t even fit that much milk in our refrigerators.” The captain took a big sip from his water bottle, took off his red and blue striped woolen cap, scratched his head, and then replaced it. “ “Kyle, did you offer drinks to our guests?”
4.19 The Abyss of WonderLand
I guess it was a strange place to be debating these thoughts. But the sea air seemed to wash away the daze of love I was flying in, to bring clarity, I hoped. But was I being silly to worry about something impinging from Timothy’s past? It was true that Timothy hadn’t reacted to Terry or Bob in a jealous manner, but more as . . . well, a prince of a realm, mandating that others keep their distance. Timothy was rich, handsome, and eternally young. I supposed it was natural that he’d get uppity sometimes. Perhaps that would be my job one day, to remind him that there was no longer any social status among humans. And being truthful, it was a lie not to see the echelons of social status even in today’s world. It was all around us, like renting a private yacht trip which most people could never afford. Or doing those special tours at the zoo and Sea World that others were not able to save up enough money to spend so freely. As the yacht slipped through the water, sliding waves to the side, splashing and weaving through the boats of others perched, or was that anchored, I nodded from my soul searching. Timothy hadn’t reacted to Terry or Bob in a jealous manner, but more as . . . well, a prince of a realm, mandating that others keep their distance. Timothy was rich, handsome, and eternally young. I supposed it was natural that he’d get uppity sometimes. I guessed that would be my job, to remind him that there was no longer any social status among humans. Except, I reminded myself, Timothy wasn’t human. And, it was a lie not to see the echelons of social status. It was all around us, like this private yacht trip which most people could never afford. But musing on such worries and thoughts isn’t all it’s stacked up to be, not when it pulls you out of joy, and joy is where I should be on this beautiful day with the man I loved. Besides, we were probably only minutes from seeing something exciting. I released the apprehensions that kept nibbling at my thoughts and tuned to glance at the captain who was describing the various kinds of whales we were going to see that day.
4.18 The Abyss of WonderLand
“But you lived in history. You saw what we can only read about. Knights on horses, famous people, the beginnings of literature, or at least . . .” I’d said. Andrew had shaken his head and made a rather rude verbal expletive (or at least I think that’s what it was. Whatever language it was in, the expression didn’t translate, but his reaction was spread across his face, showing an emphatic distaste and denial.) “You are very innocent, Penelope. It was never the pretty picture you are envisioning. No one had an education then. Books were almost non-existent, and the two of us hadn’t had any schooling. Prince Jeffry and I both learned to read in the palace of that tyrant king. It was the only positive thing I remember about that time.” Andrew shook his head again, this time using a wagging motion that reminded me of the bobble head dolls some people placed on the car’s dashboard. “Neither of us regrets the end of those centuries of barbary, Penelope. The here and now suits us much, much better.” He sipped his drink, which was probably the lemon water he preferred. “Don’t probe, though. You have to accept Timothy as he is now, not as he was throughout the ages. He is a good man in this time period. He will treat you with the respect you deserve. You can count on that.” Timothy returned then from wherever he’d taken off to, and our conversation had moved to lighter subjects. But sometimes I thought about what Andrew had revealed. Had Timothy sort of liked being a prince, even more than he was willing to admit? Had it influenced him in ways that he could never recover from? “Your worry frown has returned,” Timothy said nudging me from my contemplations of the tale that Andrew had told me. We were standing on the boat’s, I mean, yacht’s side, and staring out into the breadth of the ocean, which stretched for miles. The motors were sending fumes into the air, the seagulls were scolding, and the waves were a tom-tom on the side of our vessel. I suppose Timothy suddenly took advantage of his ability to read my thoughts. “I am who you see now, Penelope,” he said, apparently picking up on the ugly memory Andrew had shared. “I am not that arrogant prince of long ago. I will never be him again,” he promised. Timothy picked up my hand and started massaging my fingers, as if that would reassure me and erase all my fretful doubts. “I admit that I might dip into over protectiveness at times,” he said with a crooked grin, “but that would only be because I adore you. I will try not to growl at men whose eyes fall on your beauty. I know I cannot keep you in an ivory tower.” That ended the conversation for the moment, but not my worries over the impact of his history and the roles he’d played: commanding an army, ordering the deaths of criminals, beheading wayward soldiers, and prancing about in fine clothes in front of a score of court ladies . . . Timothy had been a movie star, a super hero, and a royal heir. Sure, it was long ago but actually not that different from who he was in the present. The newspapers had called him the most eligible bachelor in San Jose, and I had a feeling that he was as rich as a billionaire CEO. Timothy was still commanding, still throwing his weight around, still like that long ago cocky prince.
4.17 The Abyss of WonderLand
I guess he realized that, and my reminder seemed to suppress some of his dictatorial attitude. (I’ll admit that at times that arrogance worried me. What if Timothy started feeling that I was supposed to keep to my role, whatever that was? What if he suddenly hushed me when I wanted to talk with others or required me to act in a manner he thought suitable? Did his past invade his beliefs about such things?) Andrew had told me that Timothy at one point in his life had been declared a prince of the realm. “He was slated to marry the king’s daughter and had grown cocky and demanding, even conceited,” Andrew had revealed. “It was the only time we ever fought over anything. Timothy, or Prince Jeffry, as he was known then, had responded when I’d complained, that it was the only way to survive the brutality around us. He said that such behavior was required of him. “I feared then that I’d lost my good friend, but shortly after that, Timothy wanted to bolt, I think it had become too much even for his swelling ego. We escaped from the kingdom and fled into another realm, one where we were completely unknown.” Andrew’s eyes looked sad as he told me about it, as if that period in time had scarred him permanently. Had it scarred Timothy as well? “Timothy probably left his betrothed in devastation,” I said, sighing over the thought. A mad streak of jealousy hit me. What had the princess been like? How could he have left her behind? What an immensity of time these two had lived. Centuries of palaces, royalty, wars, barbarous conditions . . . Andrew laughed at my comment about the princess Timothy had jilted. “Not likely, Penelope. The princess was only eight years old and practically fainted every time Prince Jeffry came near her. But, that was the way it was done at that time. The women had no choice in their lives. I would bet that poor child was given to another man, one possibly even older than Prince Jeffy, well, at least the age Jeffry appeared to be. We both stopped aging in appearance before then.” It had been a great insight into one of the many lives the two had lived. I wanted to hear more of these stories, but Andrew assured me that it was better if I didn’t. “Times were different,” he explained. “Bloodier, emptier, and full of drink since there was little joy in life. Disease was prevalent. Poverty abundant. Life was cheap and over too soon.”
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?