2. Eve
EVE
The worst thing that could happen was that Love on the High Seas was a mild scam.
Not in the sense that I hadn’t received what I paid for. My room is comfortable and clean. The spa is relaxing. Since the ship is adults-only, no screaming children splash and hog chairs by the pool.
The food is amazing, and paying the extra two hundred and fifty dollars for unlimited wine on top of my fare was more than worth it.
My glass of sauvignon blanc hasn’t been empty once during the entire trip.
I catch the eye of Hank, the kindly waiter who has tended to me each night inside the Love Story bar located on the mezzanine level. The crew was exceptionally attentive and friendly.
Everything on board has been wonderful. I’ve been able to relax, regroup, and, most importantly, get a grip. It is the getaway I desperately needed.
The only disappointing part of the trip so far has been my dates. Go figure.
This is only my third night on board, and I’ve already had dinner with two potential matches and breakfast with another set of three. I even went out of my comfort zone earlier today and partook in hot-tub speed dating.
The process definitely leaves much to be desired. If I were to leave a review, this is the part I would mention felt a bit scammy.
I’m being a bit pessimistic. I had had worse dates.
Thanks to the questionnaire we all had to fill out before boarding, these men at least had things in common with me that aided conversation. All of them were nice, but there was no spark. No instant attraction that made me want to invite them back to my room for a night of fun.
Plenty of others on board were having said fun.
It echoed through the cruise ship's halls, much to the envy of guests like me. It’s been a while since I last had sex and even longer since I had good sex. Knowing who I was about to meet up with at dinner, I’m certain hair-pulling-teeth-clenching-fucking wasn’t in my immediate future.
I uncross my legs and stretch out my arms. I had spent the morning in the spa getting a full workup. Freshly massaged, exfoliated, waxed, and moisturized, I was ready for my second date with Evan.
He had been my first date of the trip and, from the briefing delivered to my phone this morning, my top match. I had groaned at that.
Yes, we had both gone to art school, but his emphasis was in graphic design. He was in commercial advertising and, just like every man I met, couldn’t fathom why I’d give my life to a dying physical medium like oil paint on canvas.
Sure, he had been inquisitive about my painting—of my achievements and accolades—but our conversation had lulled several times. He was nearly forty and, like many of the others I had met, was looking to settle down and start a family.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want a family, but I needed companionship first. Someone who truly got me before I committed to bringing a child into this world with them.
At his age, Evan approached our dates like a last-ditch effort to check the final boxes of wife and kids off his list of accomplishments.
As I down the rest of my wine, Hank immediately tops it up.
“For good luck,” he says, winking.
“You’re the best, Hank.”
Tossing some cash onto the bar, I grip my glass and head for the exit. The mezzanine level is flooded with people. Happy couples hold hands while a group of young women who had come on the trip together laugh and briskly walk by. Loneliness rises within me like a tidal wave.
Stalking towards the elevator, even my wine can’t make me excited for the date.
I push the button for the fourth floor where the restaurant Half-Shell is located. Tonight’s dinner will be more casual than our first. The matchmakers wanted us to do something interactive.
What’s more fun than stilted conversation while shucking oysters and snapping crab legs?
Glancing down, I’m still in my bikini top and bottoms from earlier. The pale gold pairs nicely with my blue linen button-up shirt and short set. My white painted toes are framed by simple slip-on sandals.
I indulge in Hank’s heavy pour of crisp wine as I wait for the elevator doors to peel open.
Once I reach the fourth floor, I walk slowly down the expansive hallway.
Nautical artwork adorns the walls. The tightly woven carpet stretches toward the far end, where the open clam-shaped neon sign buzzes.
A few other couples are in line. No doubt the matchmakers have given them the same activity as us for tonight.
Glancing at the sprawling line, I catch my breath when I see Evan standing stiffly at the front. My mouth opens as if to call out to him. I should say something, at the very least wave him over.
However, my body has a different idea.
Instead of going towards him, my feet pivot. I walk down the opposite hallway towards the door to the deck. The idea of spending another dinner in bland conversation holds little appeal. It’s cowardly to stand him up.
I owe it to him to end it in person, or to at least inform the matchmakers I don’t see us working out.
My feet carry me down the carpet until I’m pushing through a set of glass doors. The evening air is cool and briny. It whispers over my cheeks and tugs at my unbound hair. There’s hardly anyone out here.
The moon glows overhead while the stars sparkle down and reflect off the inky water.
Walking towards the railing, I lean against it and let out a deep sigh. Salt water and wood polish fill my lungs. The tart wine settles my nerves and warms my stomach.
The boat cuts quickly through the ocean. Spray tickles my face as we glide through a large wave. The water seems endless from this angle. From beneath the foamy surface, a pair of dolphins emerge and swim beside each other. I read somewhere that they mate for life.
That must be nice.
I wonder how many happy pairs of fish are swimming below, unaware of my sullen thoughts. Am I truly envious of animals? Perhaps this trip hasn’t been as good for me as I thought.
It was a mistake to come.
I would’ve been better off on a regular cruise, getting splashed by children and eating at a buffet. At least no one would’ve bothered me. I could have recharged without needing to do these activities with men I didn’t see a future with.
The sad truth slams into me. It’s time I finally came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t the apps, or the matchmakers, or life hiding all the good men from me.
I was the problem.
I knew what I wanted, and I refused to settle. I had fun in relationships before, from serious ones to short-term flings. I had been flirty, outgoing, and full of life, but loneliness slowly eroded it all away.
All that’s left is a ghost of my former self, flitting between first dates as if she were haunting them.
It would be so much easier to give that power to someone else.
If only there were such a man to put my trust in.
To leave all these feelings with him, knowing he’d take care of me.
That was a dangerous idea. Giving anyone that much authority was reckless, but it would take the burden off my shoulders.
It was wrong to wish for it, but a small, wicked part of me wanted to be carried away. That my perfect match saw me, fell in love instantly, and we lived happily ever after. No more dates. No more what-ifs. Just the two of us forever.
It was a foolish dream, but the longing inside of me unfurls as I finish the rest of my wine.
Tomorrow I was meant to go explore ancient ruins with Mark, my second most compatible match. I should message the matchmakers and tell them I want out. The process is voluntary, and you can end your participation at any time.
I should hole up in my room and eat room service until we return to the port.
My chest feels strangely tight. I rub at the sore spot, surprised by the burning in my eyes. I blink away the tears. I refuse to cry over this. My life could be so much worse. I should be grateful for all I have and all I’ve done.
The loneliness inside me yawns open, threatening to swallow me whole. I can’t shake the feeling that it’ll always be there waiting to strike and drag me down into the depths of my despair.
A low humming echoes in my ears. The wind picks up around me. It pulls at my clothes and makes a sun-lounger skid across the deck. The temperature plummets as the howling air blows through the deck.
The ship fights the sudden force. I grip the railing as the large vessel shudders and turns sharply. My wine glass slips from my hand and falls hundreds of feet to the sea below. The moon illuminates the rough sea.
The water is churning violently. My sadness quickly gives way to unease.
Another sharp gust of wind cuts through the deck, picking up another chair and launching it overboard. A blaring siren shakes me out of my daze. I shouldn’t be out here. As I turn from the railing, I see it.
Murky water swirls along the ship's sides.
We're no longer cutting through it. It’s surrounding us. The ship is spinning. Its nose is careening off our set course. My body jerks as I take in the horror unfolding.
The ship is stuck in a whirlpool.
A chorus of screams rings out as the vessel groans. The lights inside flicker, then go out. The ship creaks as it turns at another harsh angle. The water is rising higher from below. A few people from inside have spilled out onto the deck beside me.
“What the fuck?” a man yells over the howling wind.
“Oh my god,” says another.
“We’re gonna die!” shrieks the woman on my left.
That would be just my luck—dying on a fucking singles cruise.
“What is that?” the first guy asks, pointing into the water. “What’s that shining thing—”
His question chokes off as something shoots up from the water. A metallic clang echoes as a strange-looking hook latches onto the railing.
As if in slow motion, I turn towards the man. His brown eyes are wide. Short, floppy black hair blows over his pale brow. He’s looking at me in horror, hands clutching his throat.
A thick liquid seeps between his fingers. Blood.
He falls to his knees with a sickening crack. Turning back towards the hook, the man’s blood coats the deadly edge.
I let loose a terrified scream, as do those around me.
“We need to call someone!”
“No, we need to run. We’re being boarded by—”
The wind swallows the words as a loud thud lands on the deck beside me.
I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. This has to be all the wine. Or maybe I’ve fallen and am hallucinating in the ship’s medical wing. There's no way this is real.
The moon shines on the imposing, humanoid figure. Its two strong legs end in fins at the ankles that match the one protruding from its back. Its skin is pale gray. Eyes the color of the night sky gleam with feral intent.
It reeks of death and the deep sea.
Its webbed fingers end in claws. Bearing its two rows of sharp teeth, another scream loosens from my chest. This one breaks my trance as I turn and run. The others follow suit as we race down the dock.
My feet slide on the polished wood as bodies press in all around me. Women are yanked off their feet with snarls. The men fall to their knees. I don’t have time to stop and take it all in.
My mind is one thing: survival.
I pump my arms wildly as the siren blares on. The ship twists again, careening into a rogue wave that has the floor jostling under my feet. The stairs on the far end come into view.
If I can just make it to the muster station and board a lifeboat—
The boat shudders again, and the rough water sends me flying into an overturned chair. I slam my head on the deck, and no one pauses to help me. Those I had just been running with trample over me to get far away from the creature stalking us.
This can’t be happening.
My brain tries to think through the pain. I roll to my knees, but the throbbing in my head is too much. Touching the back of it, I gasp as my fingers come away bloody.
This is how I’m going to die. Lost at sea, eaten by some creature from the deep. All because my loneliness made me think this was a good idea.
If this was my karma for wanting love, then the universe was crueler than I thought.
My vision blurs as the ship keeps shaking and groaning. Wood splinters and riotous waves lap over the sides. More screams echo in the night. Creatures board over the sides as I curl in on myself.
A wet squelch echoes in my ears.
Through half-lidded eyes, I watch two webbed feet approach. I should fight, but my body isn’t listening. The pain is too intense. A clawed hand wraps around my arm as I’m ruthlessly yanked to my feet.
My mouth goes dry as its razor-sharp smile stretches. Fear grips my heart. The world around me tilts and blurs. The creature says something, but I can’t hear it. Icy terror freezes my muscles, and the darkness sweeps in before I can stop it.