by Larry Low
Our singular awkwardness was reminiscent of the first day of class. Although we were a disparate group, we soon devised a means to build a semblance of cohesiveness. A single empty seat provided an impetus for the conversation to open with a safe, pawn-sacrifice gambit. We took turns speculating about what sort of person would most likely fill the vacancy.
"A twenty-two year old party girl," Sean sighed.
"More likely to be a Hunk," his sister Sharon suggested.
"Dream on," her younger brother, Scranton, said.
"What would a woman be doing travelling alone?" Sharon countered.
"Hoping to meet me," Sean retorted.
"Not a good idea for either," said Floyd, a New York cop whose tone betrayed both derisiveness along with caution.
"Not a chance," Scranton interjected. "It will undoubtedly be a divine young woman, who is struggling with calculus."
"Yeah and has her own cabin." Sean's smile hovered over the table.
"Great!" Sharon commented. "Maybe then, I will have peace and quiet for a change. Scranton, you can help Miss Divine with her Maths if you are so inclined. Study during the holidays if you wish. As for you Sean." She let her comment hang in the air for a moment. "Whatever you must!"
"Whatever you say, Big Sister."
" Perhaps, I will be able to have the cabin to myself for awhile. Now that would be simply divine, let me tell you," she said beginning to sound like a broken record.
There was an abrupt break in the banter. Our steward unobstrusively had eased back the lone chair between Frank and Floyd to allow a fellow traveller to close our circle of confidence. Expectation ensued.
"I'm Joe," he said greeting us with a friendly smile.
"In staccato succession, names were fired at Joe. "Frank, Karen, Sharon, Scranton, Sean, Judy, Deborah and I am Floyd," said Floyd offering his hand. We must have sounded like soldiers sounding off. All that was missing was the Sir!"
"I'm Larry," I said a moment later. "Where are you from, Joe?"
"Toronta," he answered.
I could tell by the way that he slurred the final syllable that he was a native for only outsiders take care to pronounce present day Hog Town with a plummy final vowel. I wondered how well this slim, dapper gentleman, who had joined us at the last possible minute, would fit in. He obviously was travelling alone, a strange occurrence at the height of the winter cruise season or at any other time for that matter.
Two hours out of Aruba, Barbados bound under inky blackness of an overcast tropical sky, we already had an inkling of the cohesive process promised us. The brochure had hinted that bonding would probably not begin in earnest until we had lounged around the pool for a day or two. It further suggested that to be graced by the likes of the moon that hovers over Miami was a definite possibility. However, we were several degrees south of the Florida Keys suggesting that the moon over Miami lay too far north to serve any romantic purpose. In spite of all barriers it had been preordained that we would soon begin to feel tropical bonds that entice but do not bind.