Chapter 10 Mira
In this job, I can grit my teeth and bear a lot of things: eating on the floor sans utensils, being asked to cut the cake for a hundred guests because they couldn’t afford to hire a caterer, being treated like an errand girl as I rush tissues or ring boxes or double-sided tape from one side of a venue to another, but sleeping in the same room as Hudson and his girlfriend is where I draw the line.
There has to be an alternative option. A hammock, or a neighboring property with an Airstream?
I’d even be willing to befriend the bears and spend the rest of the week eating porridge in the woods, if it meant I didn’t have to go back to that room.
But it’s not like I can just leave. I don’t have a car.
I could try rideshare again once I’ve found a new place to stay, but with spotty service and the height-of-tourist-season wait times, it’d be risky. But it has to be worth a try, right?
That familiar ache pulses in my chest as I clutch my phone in my hand, ignoring the urge to call Phoebe.
For the past seven years she’s been my go-to person, my emergency contact, the one to talk me off more ledges than I care to count, and I know that with all her connections she would find a way to get me out of this mess, even if meant driving all the way from North Carolina to come save me.
But now I can’t even think about her without inducing a panic attack.
Staring up at the second-floor balcony I remember Derrick’s open-door policy. I’m sure I wouldn’t have to try too hard to persuade him to give up his bed for the evening. But before desperation can take hold, I hear Vanessa shouting my name.
She’s leaning over the railing above, waving at me. “Help! I have a fashion emergency,” she declares as I bound up the stairs, eager for something to do.
She’s wearing a lilac romper, her hair pulled back to display long gold earrings that shimmer in the sunlight, as she turns her back to me.
“Do you see that eyelet at the top? Can you attach it to the hook? I asked Adrian to do it but he said he couldn’t find it.
Honestly, I doubt he knows what I’m even talking about,” she explains, bouncing from one foot to the other with a frantic energy.
“I wouldn’t care so much but this zipper is notoriously slippery.
And the last thing I want is to be topless in the middle of dinner. ”
“I got you,” I say, hooking the little piece of metal over its delicate strap.
“Ahh! Thank you,” she breathes, turning around to smooth out the fabric. With a low neckline and a cinched waist, the outfit flatters her tall frame. “Do you think it’s too much?”
The self-conscious assessment makes me remember the Vanessa I knew in college, the one who only wore oversized t-shirts and biker shorts every day. I’m happy that she’s let herself shine more as she’s gotten older.
“It’s chic and classy. I love it.”
“And what about the shoes?” she says, showing off white Adidas. “I really wish Meredith would have sent clothing restrictions ahead of time. She’s lucky I never travel with less than four pairs.”
“There are clothing restrictions?”
“Did you not see the updated itinerary in your welcome bag?”
“I haven’t looked,” I reply honestly. Besides dealing with my uncomfortable roommate situation, I haven’t had time to pay attention to anything else.
“Here,” she says, handing me a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
4 p.m.: Board transport for the River Cruise, with a docked dinner to follow. All Guests Must Wear closed-toe shoes, in accordance with the captain’s rules.
I knock together my chunky Doc Martens. “Good thing I packed my boots.”
Vanessa stares at me with a look of concern and contemplation. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”
I’m in the same clothes I wore on the plane: black jeans and a plain black shirt. My hair is in a sloppy bun on top of my head, and I’m makeup-less. Definitely not dinner-ready. But considering everything in my suitcase is a variation of this same outfit, my appearance isn’t going to change much.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s a hundred degrees outside. And you’re wearing all black.”
“It’s standard photographer attire.”
Although Phoebe tried to convince me to wear fancy dresses or pressed slacks to weddings, they were completely impractical for my style of photography.
Between crawling on the ground, kneeling in the grass, and scooting around on dusty floors, I was spending an astronomical amount on dry cleaning.
Switching to a more casual look allowed me to fit in with the other staff members and it was a hell of a lot cheaper.
“But are you working tonight?”
“Not technically, no.”
“Then let’s find you something else to wear,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the veranda to her room. Adrian is sitting on one of the two twin-size mattresses watching an eighties movie on the TV.
“This is cozy,” I say, considering what it would take to let me commandeer one of her mattresses.
“That’s one word for it,” Vanessa quips, scooping up a pile of clothes from the open suitcases on the floor and dumping them on the bed. “I’ve stayed in hostels bigger than this.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have to share with Angie and Jocelyn,” Adrian says. I try to hide my disappointment. “And those two snore.”
Well, there goes that idea.
“I got saddled with a bunk bed, if you want to trade.” I try to make the option sound appealing, but as I hear it escape my lips, it comes out more like a timeshare opportunity.
“Vanessa doesn’t do heights. Isn’t that right?”
“I’m fine with heights. They don’t like me,” Vanessa counters.
“You can take the bottom bunk then,” I say, crossing my fingers. She contemplates it for a moment, before shaking her head.
“It would take me forever to repack, plus Adrian shouldn’t really be climbing up and down stairs to go to bed. He has a bad back.”
“It’s a rugby injury,” he clarifies. “Stop making me sound like I’m an eighty-year-old man with sciatica.”
“You’re the one who brings it up.”
“I complained about it one time. When you made me sleep on the floor, which was completely made of rock, I’d like to add.”
Vanessa waves her hand, dismissing him, and I can’t help but find it cute, the way they bicker like an old married couple.
“Here, try this on,” Vanessa orders, shoving an outfit into my arms. There’s a silky green top and a pair of khaki dress shorts—definitely not my vibe or color palette but I can tell they’re expensive by the feel of the fabric.
“I couldn’t,” I argue.
“Please. I’m a notorious over-packer.”
“It’s true,” Adrian adds. “I don’t think we’ve gone anywhere without her bringing multiple bags even for overnight trips.”
“It’s called having options,” Vanessa clarifies.
“I’m glad you don’t have that outlook on boyfriends.”
“Luckily you never go out of season,” she replies, ushering me towards their bathroom. “Go try it on. I want to see.”
“I’m pretty gross right now,” I say, not wanting to soil her clothes if they don’t fit. “I should probably shower first.”
“Use ours,” she offers. “Everyone else seems to be.”
Not having to go back to my room feels like a gift from the universe, but I also don’t want to overstep. “You sure that’s not weird?”
“How many times did I vomit in your trash can in college?”
“A few,” I chuckle, thinking back to those college nights.
“Exactly, so I think it’s totally fair for you to use my shower. Just be sure you’re wearing that outfit when you come out.”
Giving in, I go inside and take a minute to appreciate how easy it is to pick up where we left off.
I spend seven glorious minutes ridding myself of the grime, sweat, and emotional damage with Vanessa’s travel-sized gels and conditioners.
Freshly scrubbed and scented and wearing her clothes, I step out of the bathroom feeling like a completely new woman.
The silky top is cool against my skin and the shorts are breezy and lightweight.
I want to live in this outfit for the rest of the week.
“It’s perfect,” Vanessa coos, giving me a once-over.
“You were right. This is so much better than jeans.”
“And that’s why I packed you a few other things too,” she says, handing me a tote bag full of clothes. “This should get you through the rest of the week.”
“This is too much.”
“It’s nothing,” Vanessa says, coming over to pull the tag off the top. “Perks of having two sisters. Anything they forget to return they pass along to me. I’m glad to see it get worn.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
“No worries. Now, let’s go eat.”