The Do-Over(8)

With drinks in hand, I made my way across the sand, leaving my flip-flops on the shore as I waded out into the lagoon. Warm bubbles from under the sand’s surface tickled my feet as I made my way across to Wes. His back was to me as he stood looking across the bay toward the striking beauty of the Scott’s Head peninsula, a lush, mountainous outcrop rising from the sea. Standing next to him, I held out the drink without speaking. He took it, never looking down, his Ray-Ban covered eyes still pointed in the direction of the bay.

We stood there in silence. What had happened to our instantaneous connection and our amazing flowing conversation? I willed him to say something before Stacy found us. My brain was pulling a blank and my mouth was also rendering itself useless.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he finally spoke.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Turning to me, he lifted his sunglasses and raised his eyebrows as if to say, really?

“But I understand that you have a girlfriend.”

“Yes. I do.” He took a sip of his drink.

What the hell is going on here? I wondered. I didn’t want it to be like this.

“Wes, I had such a great time talking to you the first night.”

He nodded, a wry smile appearing on his face. “I did, too.”

I wanted to tell him that I wished we’d spent more time together, that I wanted to get to know him better. I was mustering up the nerve to just put it out there, when Stacy sliced the moment to shreds.

“Can you move over.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand, and it was directed at me. “Wes, I want to get a picture of you with Scott’s Head behind you for Alicia.”

Al-ee-see-a. Well, the girlfriend had a name. His Sharon Stone clone girlfriend was Al-ee-see-a. Ugh. Now all I could picture was the uber-adorable Alicia Silverstone from Clueless.

I couldn’t stay in the lagoon and listen to anymore of Stacy’s antics, which I knew would be put on solely for my benefit, so I headed for the shore, without even saying goodbye to Wes, leaving our conversation unfinished and me with that terrible feeling you get when things are left unresolved.

Back at the dock, there were makeshift booths set up selling crafts, jewelry, wood carvings and fresh juice drinks. As I waited for the tender to take us back to the boat, I busied myself by checking out the trinkets. Anything not to look at Wes and Stacy. She wasn’t leaving his side for fear that I might get near him again.

“Lady, I have what you need.” Waving her hand to draw me over, the older woman gave me a toothless smile.

“I don’t know about that,” I laughed.

“Your aura is silver and red. You are both sad and angry.”

Yes, yes I was. But I certainly didn’t want to admit that to her. “How can I be sad and angry in such a beautiful place?” I asked, rhetorically.

She shook her head. “You need to learn to communicate and forgive. It will lighten your color. Let go of the darkness. You are holding onto it.”

Pulling a large plastic bag out from under the table, she rummaged through until she found what she was looking for. Before me she placed three small, colorful cloth dolls: a man, a woman and an infant.

“You will need these.” She was very matter-of-fact and it was starting to creep me out.

“Do they come with pins?” I joked, trying to lighten the moment.

Smiling her toothless grin, she shook her head. “No, you have to use your own.”

Okay, now I was totally flipped out. I had been freaking kidding.

Waving my hand, “No thank you. I don’t think those are for me.”

“Yes, they have been waiting for you,” she insisted and began loading them into a brown paper bag.

“No, really,” I again began to protest.

She handed the bag to me, insisting I take it. Fumbling for my wallet, there was no way this woman was going to let me walk away without these creepy dolls.

Holding up her hand to stop me. “No. No money. They are yours. They have waited a long time for you to come.” And she turned to the people who’d just stepped up to the booth, greeted them and began to show them jewelry.

Looking at the brown paper bag in my hand, I wondered if it was bad luck to throw them away, or if there was something special I needed to do to dispose of them. The last thing I wanted was bad juju following me around.



Except for a small carry-on bag, everything was packed and out in the hall, waiting to be collected by the room stewards for tomorrow morning’s debarkation. Negotiating past everyone’s luggage, I climbed the stairwell and walked out onto the deck. My eye immediately caught the crisp white sails billowing as they stood out in relief against the black night sky. Smiling, I couldn’t help but think about watching them take on the wind on that very first night, a night that seemed liked it was a lifetime ago, not a mere seven evenings.

I had been soaring that night. High on rum and the endless possibilities presented by the adventure that lay before me as Wes and I filled hour after hour riding on the power of our converging energy, fueled by the spontaneity of our conversation and laughter and the rich, unspoken sexual tension.

Taking a moment, I now stood at the rail, watching the ship cut through the water, thinking how much I was going to miss being out on the open sea and what a crazy, emotional week it had been.

“I owed you a drink.”