I said yes, but the truth was I was more ready for bed. It was strange how we had so quickly conformed to the opportunities offered us. After-dinner shows and then dinner again after the shows.
The midnight buffet was really something. We had been told the ice sculptures were worth the viewing, and they were. I counted four different ice sculptures. My favorite was the palm tree that dripped small droplets from the end of each frond and refreshed the plate of grapes and strawberries. It reminded me of Uncle Harlan’s great palm tree.
All the food at the buffet was Mexican. We tried the carne asada, taquitos, fish tacos, tamales, and chicken enchiladas. Every bite was better than the last. We both declared we never had tasted such excellent Mexican food in Vancouver.
“Although we haven’t tried looking,” Joanne pointed out. “What if we make that one of the goals of our weekly get-togethers? We can try every Mexican restaurant in the phone book and decide which ones come closest to this.”
“You’d really do that with me?”
Joanne nodded, sincere in her expression and her words.
“I’ll hold you to it,” I said. “Things like that drive Ethan up a wall. He has his tried-and-true favorite places to eat out and doesn’t see any reason to experience new places.”
“He’ll never know what he’s missing,” Joanne said with a grin. “Now, do you suppose we could ask Sven to come with a cart and roll us back to our rooms?”
“No kidding. That was delicious and decadent, but I’m definitely not going to eat breakfast in the morning.”
“We’ll see,” Joanne said. “Come on. I’ve been dying to get back to our room and see what kind of animal they shaped our towels into.”
It was a bunny rabbit. I took a picture of Joanne holding it in her lap.
Settling in with the gentle sway of the ship’s motion as we headed north, I thought of how crisp and clean the bleached sheets felt.
Last night we were using our fingers to brush our teeth because we didn’t want to dig in our suitcases in the dark to find our toothbrushes. Tonight we were returning to folded towel animals on our beds, and if we so required, we might have been able to order an assistant to brush our teeth for us.
But we didn’t.
The deep-conditioning hair treatment the next morning at eleven was as much pampering as either of us wanted that day. When we realized how much we were paying for these amenities, even with the discount I received for the body wrap gone bad, it seemed best to forego any other elaborate treatments.
“Perhaps another time—on another cruise,” I said when the spa receptionist informed me she had an opening for a facial, if I was interested.
“Do you suppose we’re learning to be content?” Joanne asked.
“Maybe so. What would make you feel content with the rest of this day?”
Joanne looked at me as if no one had ever asked her that before.
The two of us spent the remainder of the day doing what we both decided would make us most content. We wrapped up in our robes, sat out on our deck, and read aloud to each other while sipping hot tea that room service delivered in sturdy blue pottery teapots with matching mugs. Joanne went for the coconut cream tea while I couldn’t turn down the offer of chocolate mint tea. We asked about coconut cake and ended up with a plate of coconut macaroons that were delivered with the tea.
Neither of us had any complaints.
Well, maybe we had one. In the morning we were docking in San Pedro at eight o’clock. Real life would soon be upon us, complete with winter’s chill and Christmas preparations. A certain hammock and a certain palm tree lingered in both our minds.
Joanne did a good job of organizing her things and packing on Sunday night. I was having a bit more trouble.
A notice had been delivered under our door giving specifications for disembarking the ship. We found out several key pieces of information. First, we were to place in the envelope provided our tip for all the services we had been given on the cruise, and we were informed of the expected amount. It added up to more than either of us would have spent, but we didn’t want to put a black mark against Aunt Winnie’s perfect sailing record, so we paid the suggested tip and sealed the envelope.
Next, we were informed that our luggage needed to be packed and tagged and set out in the hall before midnight. That’s where Joanne excelled, and I was running into difficulties. The Harlan mementos I had packed up for Aunt Winnie were bursting out of the flimsy box, and I was reluctant to leave the box in the hall for the steward to cart off the ship for me.
“The box is the least of your challenges,” Joanne said. “All you need is some packing tape or twine. It’s the fish you should worry about. You can’t leave Mr. Marlin in the hall all night.”
“I don’t plan to. I’m going to carry him off the ship.”
“You can’t carry him.”
“Yes I can. He’s not that heavy.”
“It’s his nose,” Joanne said.
“What about his nose?”
“It’s a deadly weapon. How do you plan to get that ridiculous fish off this ship without harpooning someone?”
“They got it on the ship for us.”
“I know, but the halls weren’t crowded with travelers all trying to disembark at the same time.”
“I can wrap him in the blanket and—”
“It’s not going to work.”
What followed was an argument that must have ranked right up there with the sort of arguments Harlan and Winnie had over this preposterous fish. Joanne said I would never get Mr. Marlin all the way home and I should give up now and throw him overboard.
“Can’t do that,” I said. “Clean ocean policy, remember? Didn’t you read the notice on the back of the door? No throwing anything overboard.”
“It’s organic. It’s going back to its original habitat.”
“It’s a thirty-year-old pickled, varnished marlin. There’s nothing organic about this guy any longer. The point is, I told Aunt Winnie I would bring Harlan’s fish back to her, and I’m going to try my best to keep my word.”
“Melanie, Aunt Winnie doesn’t even know where the fish is. She didn’t know Mr. Marlin was in the trailer, did she? She won’t know that you tried to stuff him in your suitcase to get him home.”
“No, but I know. We got him this far; I can’t give up now.”
Joanne stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.
“I like your idea,” I said.
“My idea?”
“What if I did try to stuff him in my suitcase? In pieces. I could saw him in half or maybe into three pieces, what with the nose being so long and all.”
“And then what? Glue him back together at Aunt Winnie’s? I don’t think so, Mel.”
“Okay, what if I just cut off the nose?”
“What if you leave Mr. Marlin under your bed for the maid to find once we’re off the ship?”
“Joanne!”
“You could buy a different fish at home and give it to Aunt Winnie, and it would have the same sentiment for her.”
“Look at this face.” I pulled Mr. Marlin out from behind the curtain and laid him out on my bed. “Where am I ever going to find another fish with a face like that? Aunt Winnie would remember this face.”
Joanne sighed. “I have a feeling I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to forget that face.”
“I’ll cut off the nose. That should do it. Then I can wrap the body in trash bags and duct tape and check it through as luggage.”
“Melanie, are you hearing yourself? Even if you get the stiff through baggage claim, you can’t keep the beak in your carry-on luggage. On the way here airport security searched my purse and confiscated my nail file. You think they’re going to let you go traipsing through X-ray with a swordfish nose in your wallet?”
“Maybe if I wrap it really well.”
“That does it.” Joanne went to the phone, picked it up, and dialed.
“Who are you calling? It’s
almost midnight.”
“Hello.” Joanne ignored my question. “Sven? This is Joanne Clayton. Oh. He is? You are? Yes. And by any chance could you bring a saw, some duct tape, and some trash bags. That’s right. Oh, and some twine. Yes, please. Thank you.”
She hung up and announced to me that Sven was unavailable but his assistant, Georgio, was on his way.
“What are you going to do when you get home and you can’t dial up Sven every time you have a little problem?” I said with a sassy air.
Joanne stared me down. “I guess I’ll have to call you.”
I knew no other person on this earth whom I could talk to the way Joanne and I were talking to each other now. It had been years since we had fallen into this feisty back-talk way of communicating, but it felt good. We could express our mutual frustration, yet both of us knew it was in love.
Georgio appeared with the requested items and an expression of curiosity. His Italian accent was in full swing when he entered the room and spotted Mr. Marlin stretched out across my bed with the bath towel bunny to keep him company.
“I’m thinking of sawing off the nose,” I said. “Just so I can wrap him up and get him loaded on the plane.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” Georgio said.
“That’s what I told her,” Joanne said.
“This is a black marlin. Not very common. Difficult to catch. I know a lot about these fish.”
“Is it valuable?” Joanne asked.
“Not so much, now, I think, but certainly to the fisherman who caught it. Was that one of you?”
“No, our Uncle Harlan caught it. A long time ago.”
“So this is your Uncle Harlan’s marlin.” Georgio grinned, as if he were the first one to notice the play on words.
“Yes,” Joanne said. “This grumpy-looking beast with the evil eye is Uncle Harlan’s marlin. And now my sister thinks she can get it back to Canada. I’ve been trying to tell her it can’t be done.”
“No, it’s not a problem.”
“It’s a huge problem,” Joanne said.
“No, I can ship this fish anywhere in the world. Where do you want him to go?”
I jumped in quickly before Joanne had a chance to voice, in her current brazen tone, exactly where she wanted this fish to go. “Vancouver, BC. I have the address right here.”
Reaching for some paper to copy Aunt Winnie’s address, I found the envelope that had been delivered for Joanne earlier on top of the extra towels. I tossed it to her and said, “You better look at this in case there’s anything we haven’t covered yet.”
Georgio pulled out one of his cards for me, and I copied Aunt Winnie’s address on the back of the card with strict instructions that the shipping cost didn’t matter. The important thing was for the fish to get there.
“Not a problem. I have shipped worse than this before.”
“Worse?” I questioned.
“Larger items and more fragile such as big clay pots and one time a rocking chair the guest bought in Ensenada. Your fish is not a problem. It’s a beautiful fish. Do you know the females are the largest? The males are never more than 140 kilos—about 300 pounds to you. This is a small one. But the small ones are fast. They can run on the surface for a long time, and you think you have them, but then they dive very deep and for a long time. When they leap from the water, you can see a faint blue line, right here.”
He traced his finger along the side before ceasing his lecture on black marlins. With both arms, Georgio lifted his new friend. “Do not worry. I will take good care to see that he gets to your home in one piece.”
“That’s better than what I was about to do.” I scooted ahead of him to open the door. “Thanks, Georgio. I really appreciate it.”
“Ciao!” He called over his shoulder.
I stood by the open door, watching as he maneuvered his way down the narrow hallway lined with our neighbors’ luggage.
“Joanne,” I called softly, “you should see this. It looks like Georgio is doing the samba with Mr. Marlin. Isn’t that the dance where you take a few steps, stop, step some more and stop again? That’s what he’s doing. It’s hilarious.”
Joanne didn’t answer. Ever since I’d handed her the envelope with her name on it, she hadn’t said a word. I closed the door and looked at her. She was sitting on the edge of our small love seat with the open envelope in her lap and some paper in her hand. Her eyes were fixed on the paper, and her mouth was open.
“Uh-oh, give me the bad news. How much more do we owe in tips and service fees?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” Joanne stated without breathing.
“What? Pesos, not dollars, right? Did you say ten thousand? What for?”
I snatched the paper out of Joanne’s hand and read a handwritten note in beautiful cursive loops.
Ms. Clayton,
I have inquired as to how I might present to you my thanks and have been informed that you disembarked the ship. My most humble apologies for not giving this to you in person. You saved my son’s life, and I will forever be your servant. Please accept this small check offered from my heart for a debt I can never repay.
“Joanne.”
“I know.”
“Ten thousand dollars?”
“U.S. ten thousand dollars.”
“Did you see her return address? She’s from Morocco.”
“I know.”
“This is …”
“I know.”
We sat together in silence, staring at the letter and the cashier’s check.
“I guess you can move to Vancouver now without hesitation,” I said after a few moments.
“I didn’t need money to make my move possible. I don’t need this.” She waved the check at me. “This isn’t for me. It’s for those girls in India. This will buy freedom for so many young girls. It will make them safe.”
Aside from the low-sounding hum of the ship’s mighty engines, all was quiet. My sister had risked everything to save one life, and now she would be instrumental in saving many. This had to be a God-dream.
“What if,” I said slowly, “what if you offered this money to the ministry you worked with in India, and they used it as a matching donation?”
“What are you talking about?”
My organizational way of thinking was kicking into full gear. “Have you ever seen a matching grant? The organization sends out letters requesting donations, and your seed money is used to match their donations up to ten thousand dollars. It’s done all the time. Donors are asked to give by a certain date. That way you end up with twenty thousand, hopefully.”
“I think you and I have some planning to do.”
“Planning is a sweet word in my vocabulary,” I said with a smile.
Someone knocked on our door. It was one of the stewards checking to see if we had any luggage to put out since it was past midnight. Joanne had hers ready, and I scrambled to close my suitcase.
After we handed over the bags, instead of crawling into bed, Joanne and I sat up talking. We formulated a plan for her move to Vancouver by the end of the year and how we would all spend Christmas together, even if she hadn’t packed up everything and moved from Toronto.
The night slipped by as we snatched a few early morning hours of sleep. By eight o’clock Monday morning we were so tired yet so satisfied, we were barely able to get ourselves off the ship with our carry-on bags and make our way through customs.
“Mr. Marlin would never have made it this far,” Joanne kept telling me.
“So you’ve told me.”
“I hope Aunt Winnie doesn’t get so sentimental when the fish arrives that she puts him in a place of prominence in her apartment,” Joanne said. “I cringe at the thought of that beady eye following me around every time I go to visit her.”
“All I care about is that he’s on his way and I don’t have to think about him anymore.”
We picked up our checked luggage and chatted on the shuttle to LAX. The first thing I did when we were inside the ai
rport terminal was to call Ethan. Our conversation was completely different from the one we’d had a week earlier when I apologized for the brick-face kiss and being so uptight. I told him I couldn’t wait to see him and that I loved him with all my heart.
Everything seemed wonderful until Joanne and I got past check-in and realized we were going through security at separate gates. She was flying back to Toronto, and I was flying to Vancouver.
“This isn’t really good-bye.” I gave my dear sister a tight hug. “It’s just ‘see you later.’ ”
“Just a few weeks, and we can start checking out Mexican restaurants in Vancouver.”
I nodded, keeping my teeth clenched so I wouldn’t cry.
“I love you, Melly Jelly Belly.” Joanne hugged me one more time and planted a kiss just above my ear in my freshly conditioned, clean hair.
“I love you, too, Joanna Banana.” I kissed her cheek, and one of her salty tears touched my lips.
“Adios.” She pulled away and gave me a smile.
“Adios,” I echoed. We started in our opposite directions through the crowded terminal. I stopped before turning down the wing where my gate was located, intending to wave at Joanne one last time.
Turn around, Joanne. Look over your shoulder.
She kept walking and would soon be out of range.
Impulsively, I called out her name.
Joanne turned to glance over her shoulder, and with my free hand I waved and blew her a lopsided kiss.
She attempted to do the same, but she was still moving away from me. Before the kiss left her fingers, Joanne ran right into the chest of another traveler, causing her shoulder bag to tip and spill half its contents in the pathway of the oncoming travelers.
Oh, Joanne! I chuckled and wove my way back through the crowd to help her out. You and I can make it all the way to San Felipe and back without an accident, but we can’t make it through the airport!
I was almost to where she stood with her back to me when I stopped. My mouth dropped open, and my eyes stretched wide. Her wallet, brush, and a pack of gum remained on the ground as the man she had run into wrapped his arms around her in a hug.