Tag Archives: anniversary

Sinking Ship

Day 15 of 16 – Writer’s Digest Writer’s Prompt Bootcamp

You realize the boat is sinking, but that’s not the worst thing that could happen. The worst thing happened last night. 

Oh God.  What’s going on?  What is this?  A reenactment of the Titantic?  Is this really happening?  I stopped what I was doing and tried to concentrate on what the Captain was saying.

I didn’t want to go on this stupid cruise in the first place.  But, no, “we have to,” he says.  “It’s our 20th anniversary,” he says.  “What better way than to cruise it with friends,” he says.  Yes, you heard right.   Friends — our best friends — Jack and Abigail share our wedding anniversary.  To the day, to the year.  We didn’t know each other at the time of our weddings, we met through our kids.  Of course, what other way do you meet friends at our age than through your children?

Ever since we first realized we shared the same anniversary 12 years ago, we’ve celebrated every year with them.  Actually, that’s not entirely true.  Abigail had to have emergency gall bladder surgery on our 16th anniversary, otherwise it’s something every single year.  Sometimes it’s a winery, a three-day weekend in Cape Cod, or just plain old dinner.

I love Abigail and Jack very much, but I would like to have my husband to myself once in a while.  This is a tradition that was started by Larry, my husband.  He loves to party, he loves to be surrounded by people.  Me, I need solace.  I’m shy and the constant going out is just a bit outside of my comfort zone.  With Larry, it’s always go, go, go.  It’s exhausting.

So here we are, on a sinking ship.  Who can say that in their lifetime?  What’s funny is I’m not as frightened about it as I should be.  Mainly because what happened last night was way worse than a sinking ship.

The four of us met in the dining room for dinner.  The one thing I am enjoying about this cruise is the non-stop eating.  I’m usually pretty good about watching what I eat, but it’s so nice to just throw it all out the window for a few days.  At my age (don’t tell anyone, but that would be 45) it’s hard to keep the weight off.  I know I’ll probably be up more than 5 pounds when I get home, but I don’t care.

I don’t usually drink that much, but I partook in a bit too many cocktails this time.  It was completely out of character for me.  I was feeling no pain and was in the mood to party.  I know, “shocking” as Larry would say.  The tables seemed to be turned last night.

After dinner, the four of us walked over to the discotheque.  Or as the kids call it today, the club.  We all drank some more, we danced, we laughed, we were having a great time.  Until Abigail called it quits.  So, it was just the 3 of us.  We partied, we drank, we danced some more.  And then the shock of the evening came — Larry was tired.  He tried to talk me into going back to the cabin, but Jack and I were having way too much fun to call it a night.

And then there were two.  I’ve known Jack for a long time.  He’s almost like a brother to me.  “Last Dance” by Donna Summer played.  It’s the song that always plays when it’s the end of a wedding or a New Year’s celebration.  Larry hates that song because it means that the party is over.  Usually, I am grateful for it…except tonight.  I let my hair down and was having a great time.  I realized that I really need this.  Jack and I got on the floor.  We danced.  He spun me around and he pulled me against him.  I could feel him against my back.  Something was happening and I didn’t know how to stop it.  Truth be told, I didn’t want to stop it.

We started to kiss, slowly at first.  Then it turned passionate.  Sex with my husband is great.  I’ve never had any complaints.  But this…feeling.  My god, I haven’t felt this in ages.  And it was with Jack.  I’ve never felt an attraction to him before.  It never entered my mind.

I was a puddle on the floor.  I needed to get out of here.  I tried to pull myself away from him but when I did, he just followed on my heels, pulling at me.  In my defense, I asked him to stop.  I begged him to stop.  “Jack, please, we can’t do this.  What about our spouses, our friends, our children?  Please let me go.”  But there was a part of me that didn’t want him to let go.  I was feeling more alive, attractive and sexy than I’ve felt in years.

I felt 18 again, the way we were going at it.  I don’t know how, but we found a quiet nook down the corridor.  He threw me against the wall, reached up under my skirt, moved my panties to the side and entered me.  Just like that.  It was over as quickly as it started.  It felt good.  At the time, I didn’t have any regrets.

Until today.  When I woke up and realized what I had done, I felt like my world would split in half.  If Larry ever found out, he would leave me.  My marriage, as I knew it, would be over.  I don’t want my marriage to end.  I love my husband, I love my family.  This would tear us apart.  I know I can’t live without Larry.  I’m not sure I could survive it.

I woke up with dark thoughts.  Larry kissed me good morning.  I was feeling a little ill from the effects of the alcohol last night.  He wanted to go to breakfast, but I told him I wasn’t feeling very well and that I just wanted to rest.  Besides, I couldn’t face either Jack or Abigail.  I don’t know how I could face them ever again.

After he left, I went into the bathroom and got the bottle of sleeping pills.  I couldn’t pull myself out of it.  This dread.  We live in a small town.  What if Jack opened his mouth to even one person?  Word gets around so quickly these days.  I couldn’t do that to my kids or to Larry.

I poured the entire bottle out onto the bedside table.  There was already a glass of water sitting there from last night.  I grabbed a handful of pills and was about to throw them into my mouth, when I heard the announcement.

“ATTENTION.  THERE IS A FIRE IN THE ENGINE ROOM.  DO NOT PANIC.  EVERYBODY PLEASE MOVE TO THE UPPER DECK FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.  IT SEEMS THAT THE SHIP IS SINKING.”

 

A Bar and Some Bobby Socks

DH and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary last month.  Not only was it our wedding anniversary but it was also the day before our anniversary of the day we met.  27 years ago.  It’s crazy how fast time flies, isn’t it?

We met on September 19, 1986.  I was a recent high school graduate and was attending a secretarial school.  I had just started a new job at a major corporation.  I also had a boyfriend of almost 2 years.

We met in a bar.  In my hometown.  About a 40 minute drive north of DH’s hometown.  It’s kind of a long story but here it is in a nutshell:  I was with a friend and her friend.  You had to be 19 to enter.  My friend’s friend and I were 19 but not my friend.  So, because we were such terrific friends to our friend, we drove that bitch home because there may have been a boy inside that my friend’s friend was hoping to see.  Someone she had met in the same place approximately 2 weeks prior.  It was a long shot.  But when you are 19 and boy crazy, it was a chance she was willing to take.  And besides, little did I know but this was fate in the making.  And you cannot mess with fate, man.

Not only was the boy there, but the boy had a friend.  The one and only future DH.  And he was gorgeous.  I mean, drop dead.  There I was, with my permed blonde hair, black pencil skirt, red peplum jacket, bobby socks and blood red pumps.  And this gorgeous guy was trying to talk to me.  I kind of blew him off because, well, certainly he was just being nice.  After all, he was there because his friend asked him to go in hopes of running into the girl he met 2 weeks prior.  Weird, right?

photo

I wore this skirt. This was my hair. I was hot.

My friend’s friend and I found a table in the back and sat and drank.  A couple of hours passed, and Mr. Gorgeous appeared before me asking if we could go outside to talk.  So I went.  We talked. Really, that’s all we did.  I might murder The Kid if I knew she went to go talk to a complete stranger in a parking lot at midnight.  I gave him my number.  He said he would call.

He did call.  The very next day.  But I didn’t get the message.  Because my brother forgot to tell me. He happened to remember when he overheard a conversation between my mom and me.  I was expressing my disappointment that he didn’t call.  Needless to say, he picked me up for our first date later that day.  I was a nervous wreck.  Wondering if I just had beer goggles on that Friday night.  It was also dark.  To my dismay he was beautiful even in the light.  And that boyfriend of 2 years?  He kinda got dumped.  Poor guy.

The rest is history really.  I’m not 98 pounds anymore.  My hair is not permed.  I have to color it now to get my natural color back.  DH has less hair, but doesn’t weigh much more than that first night.  Why is that?  Oh, and whatever became of my friend’s friend and DH’s friend?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Like I said, don’t mess with fate, man.