“Thanks, Felix. Good night.”
She closes the door and I go back to my room.
I get in bed, but I’m wired from the events of the past hour. I occupy myself by continuing to research seasickness cures.
A text pops up from Hope.
Hope:I risked the apple. It actually helped.
Felix:I’m so glad.
Hope:I had so much fun with you today. Vomit episode notwithstanding.
I smile.
Felix:Me too.
Felix:Do-over when you’re not sick?
Hope:Absolutely.
Felix:Get some sleep xx.
5BOATMANCE
Wonders of the Caribbean, Day 4
Rest, relax, and recharge at sea!
Today theRomance of the Seasails the crystalline ocean on our way to St. Lucia, affording you a day of fun in the sun and luxurious pampering.
The Coral Spa welcomes you to leave your cares behind and delight your senses with our signature Mermaid Treatment. To indulge in luxury, head to the Seahorse Gallery for a presentation on diamonds by Ludo Bianchi, head jeweler of the Treasure Chest Boutique—and perhaps treat yourself to a gift.
For some time in the shade, visit the Game Room at noon for a rousing Scrabble tournament, stop by the Fitness Center for a gentle Pilates class with instructor Jen, or learn to paint the blues of the Caribbean Sea while enjoying the libation of your fancy at our Watercolor Sip and Paint.
At sunset, local culinary delights and delicious cocktails await you on the Lido Deck for a special al fresco Caribbean Feast. And afterward, night owls can stay and dance until the wee hours at the Silent Disco.
Have a wonderful day!
Hope
The green apples backfired.
I got up so many times in the night that Lauren decamped to the couch in the living room to avoid being awoken by my retching. I consumed such a large quantity of ginger that I never want to taste it again. It was dawn by the time we sailed out of the swells and into calmer waters. I finally fell asleep at six a.m.
I wake up at nine feeling frail and dehydrated.
I lie in bed, nervous to get up in case walking reignites my queasiness. The need to pee eventually overtakes my anxiety. But going into the bathroom, after the dark hours I spent there last night, nearly gives me PTSD. I force myself to get into the shower. The hot water makes me feel vaguely human, but I resent the sea-scented bath products. I never want to think of the ocean again, let alone smell it.
Lauren is waiting on the bed when I emerge.
“My kitten!” she cries. “How do you feel?”
“Like I survived the plague. But just barely.”
“Poor baby. At least the turbulence stopped. I called down to Guest Services and they said they don’t expect any more rough seas. You should starttaking Dramamine as soon as you can keep something down. I’ll go get you some. And they can give you an IV in the infirmary.”
“I don’t think I need an IV. Just water.”
