The Sickness

Chapter 4

4

Roger

As I push the door to our cabin open, a wave of relief washes over me. My eyes take in the incredible interior—a sumptuous sofa, beds lined with goose-down pillows, mahogany tables carved with intricate designs—plus everything I requested to make this week comfortable for Abby.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see two security guards standing at the entrance to the hallway. After the altercation in the terminal, we were given a personal escort to our cabin, along with welcome drinks. An icy glass of whiskey for me and a Shirley Temple with a maraschino cherry for Abby.

I wouldn’t have thought the drunkards would have been allowed to board, but I guess money talks. That and the young woman refused to speak up when questioned about the incident. After everything, she told the crew it was nothing. Just a simple “misunderstanding.”

“Wow!” Abby gasps, eyes wide with admiration. “This is amazing.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Are you feeling okay?” She gives me a onceover. “You’re not seasick already, are you?”

I chuckle and ruffle her hair. “It’s my job to do the worrying, remember?”

“Don’t let those guys get to you, Dad.”

“What guys?” I ask playfully. The truth is, my daughter is right. Those men from the terminal have gotten to me more than I care to admit. To think I’m trapped on a boat with them for a week only adds fuel to the anxiety I already have about this trip. Although it's a large ship, it's not actually that large—by cruise ship standards, it's considered a medium-sized vessel.

I feel the lurch and shudder beneath my feet; a signal that our departure is imminent. “Well, I guess there’s no backing out now. It’s just you and me, kid.”

“And like a thousand other people.”

“Same difference.”

I walk over to the small refrigerator, fling it open, and survey the assortment of tiny bottles. The whiskey did nothing to take the edge off. “You promised,” Abby says.

I pull out a water bottle and twist off the cap. “Promised what?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m going to check out the bathroom,” I say. “Need to get in there before I do?”

“Nope.”

I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and my chest tightens. I grip the vanity and stare into the mirror, trying to fight off the rising panic. Cold sweat streams down my face, and my breath comes in shallow bursts. To calm myself, I splash cold water on my face and wet down my hair. I need a drink. Promise or no promise. If I’m going to survive this trip, I’m going to need another drink. Once I get Abby’s supplies and equipment unpacked, I’ll steal a moment for myself.

I use the toilet and return to my daughter.

There's a small window on the far wall. Abby has her nose pressed to the glass. I walk over and stand there, peering over her shoulder. The azure sky before us is a dazzling sight, but I shiver at the idea of the ship drifting further away from shore, knowing I'm going to lose sight of land.

I've always tried to see the world through my daughter's eyes, and this trip is just another version of that, I suppose. I take a deep breath and focus on this moment—just this moment—before everything changes. “Can we go on deck?” Abby asks eagerly.

"Sure, but we need to swap out and charge the battery in your concentrator first."

She turns and grins at me. "It's already done."

Later, we explore the main deck, eventually making our way up to the sky lounge where passengers line the railings, watching as the ship sails further out to sea. Abby and I stand watching everything on shore get smaller and smaller. The sun sets, and from this vantage point, it is a mesmerizing sight.

Abby sighs. “This is so beautiful.” She doesn't even bat an eye when the crew delivers me a second whiskey and then another. “And to think, we shouldn’t even be here.”

I glance over at her, but she’s staring out at the water. She’s right. We shouldn’t be here. But I know this is not what she means. She’s thinking about how lucky she is to be on this trip. I’m cursing the reason behind it all. “Please don’t be sad, okay?”

“I’m not sad,” I lie.

“I want this to be fun,” she says. “For the both of us.”

“It is fun.” Another lie, but she looks relieved, so I keep it up. “I think this is the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s probably the whiskey,” she says, and we both laugh. I pull her in for a side hug and kiss the top of her head. We stand there in contentment, watching the sun melt into the horizon until there's nothing left but the stars in the night sky. They twinkle like little fireflies, as if they're looking right at us. My heart swells with love for my daughter, her beauty and innocence radiating from her like a beam of hope.

Later, when we return to our cabin, I am surprised I don't feel anxious anymore. I only have one thought: make her last wish as special as can be.