Untied
Day five of the over 60s Singles cruise she couldn’t afford and Eleanor is sad to note that her new friend, Otto, does not tie his shoes properly. His laces keep trailing him like fishing lines. Still, his warm breath is a bribe when watching the sunset together on the fifth floor deck in the cold evening air.
Accidental Marriage
Recently divorced from an accidental marriage of thirty years, Otto rationalizes money spent on the cruise, claims he needed a break from the same old, same old. “Otherwise I’d just be vacuuming the house for nobody,” he says.
Gluttony
“I’ve gained at least seven pounds in five days,” Eleanor says, stabbing the bottom of her glass with a tiny umbrella.
There are state-of-the-art gyms on the ship filled with chair yoga classes, gentle hiking machines. There are two kidney-shaped pools. And yet here they are drinking French 75s with Apple blossoms on deck chairs, struggling to zip their windbreakers.
Healthier Cravings
“One craves the fresh sea air to make sense of it all, Ellie,” Otto says. His double chin wobbles like a buoy. She stares at him a moment. No one has called her Ellie since she was a child.
Tipsy Decisions
Going to bed with Otto is something like being straightjacketed for fun. It’s like two ample-sized dogs have entered the room. There is a sigh and a pack of tissue. What shelter are you from, old fella, she thinks. Who do you really belong to?
Ferocious Currents
A whale or a wave hits the ship, and she’s rolling back and forth without trying. Another strange surge of movement and she grabs his distended tummy. “Land ho,” she says, hiccupping.
Take Away
“We’re crazy, Ellie, aren’t we?” Otto says on the last day of the cruise. He kisses the wrinkles on her neck, and hands her a scarf from one of the gift shops. “To keep your neck warm on future cruises,” he says.
What Remains
Now that Eleonor is back on dry land, something about having been with Otto every day at sea reminds her of the nighttime hiccups. Like when you stagger to the bathroom in the middle of the night and they wake you all the way there and back. It’s as if something inside you has finally broken. And yet, when they disappear, you miss them.
Meg Pokrass is the author of First Law of Holes: New and Selected Stories (Dzanc Books, 2024). Her work has appeared in Electric Lit, New England Review, Five Points, Washington Square Review, Hunger Mountain, and elsewhere.