Page 123 of Left Behind

She’d been given instructions about minimal packing, the option to bring her own bed linens, rules about her work and her behavior, and the need for a passport, but she hadn’t read the fine print. All she knew was she was escaping from her past. She was excited about the adventure and elated beyond words that her parental responsibilities had come to an end.

That night after she went to bed, it was hard to sleep. New Orleans was a city that came to life after the sun went down, and she wanted to party. But she didn’t want to show up for her new job with a hangover, so she went to bed.

She was awake before daybreak the next morning, got dressed in a hurry, and grabbed a breakfast sandwich before checking out. Then she took an Uber down to the Julia Street Cruise terminal. The driver let her out, unloaded her luggage, and drove away. Now all Corina had to do was board, and according to her instructions, there would be people waiting at the top of the first deck, directing her as to where to go.

The sun was shining, and the wind off the gulf was brisk. She felt cute and carefree as she moved with a growing crowd of people, also in the act of boarding. But when she reached the top and presented her passport and the letter stating she was staff, she was cut out of the crowd like a steer headed for market and followed a different group being led into the bowels of the ship, out of the sunlight, and down long narrow hallways with artificial lighting and not a porthole to be seen.

It wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but she was busy listening to the guide calling out names and cabin numbers as they moved down the hallways of the sleeping quarters, dropping workers off as they went. Then she called out another name.

“Corina Dalton.”

“I’m here,” Corina said.

“This will be your cabin. Take note of the number because everything looks alike. Your bunkmate has already checked in. Staff meeting in the staff mess hall after we sail. You have a map in your paperwork to direct you there. No wandering about the ship. You are not here to sightsee. You are here to work.”

Corina’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Bunkmate? Belowdecks?

She opened the door and walked into a small austere room with no portholes, a set of bunk beds, a sofa, a little desk, and an empty mini fridge, and the aforementioned bunkmate stretched out in the bottom bunk.

She was a thirtysomething redhead with a face full of freckles and shy on height, which explained why she’d chosen the bottom bunk. She rolled out to greet Corina.

“Hi, I’m Patsy. I snore. That’s our closet. We share. The head is through that door. It’s tiny, so it’s a good thing you’re not fat. What’s your name?”

Corina blinked. “Corina Dalton. I didn’t know we’d share a room.”

Patsy laughed. “You didn’t read the fine print. This is my fourth trip out. Unpack before the ship weighs anchor. The thrusters make a hell of a noise when we depart, but then they level off. You get used to the noise.”

Corina was on the verge of pissed. “Noise? They didn’t mention noise.”

Patsy sighed. She had a feeling this was going to be a long six months, and she was right. By the end of the first day, although they were working side by side, they hadn’t spoken six words to each other.

Corina was angry and sullen and slept with the pillow over her head, trying to drown out the sound of engines. They had fourteen-hour shifts, their own mess hall, and their own store to buy toiletries and cleaning products for their own cabins. By the end of the week, her hands were cracked and bleeding. A trip to the ship’s doctor confirmed her allergy to the industrial-strength cleaning solutions, and she was sent to laundry instead.

After that, the only time she saw Patsy was in their cabin at night. Corina wasn’t mad at Patsy. She was mad at herself, but everyone who came within range of her was sucked into her misery by her attitude alone. Finally, her boss called her into the office and read her the riot act about her behavior, what was acceptable and what was not.

Corina stood there, listening.

“Do we understand each other now?” her boss asked.

“I heard you. If we were anywhere but at sea, I would have already quit.”

“You signed a contract!” he said.

“Yes, I did, to work on a ship. Not scrub shit off floors or try to sleep with that god-awful thumping noise! I wake up tired and mad because I can’t get a decent night’s sleep. So, what’s next? Throw me overboard? Make me walk the plank?”

He stared her down. “What’s next is you’re fired. You can either continue to do your work until we dock again in New Orleans, at which time you will be escorted off the ship with your pay docked for reneging on the contract you signed, or you can quit now and you will be confined to your cabin.”

Corina frowned. “Like jail?”

“Basically, it’s you not getting to roam around while waiting for a free ride home,” he said.

The stark reality of the choices was, once again, a reminder of her life. Every fucking choice she’d made had resulted in worsening her situation. She thought getting rid of Ava would end her troubles, but they’d just become worse, and so had her attitude. She leaned forward in the chair, staring at her boss with all the hate in her heart.

“Then laundry it is. Not too much starch in your shorts, right?” she said, and walked out.

***

Detective Gardner was smiling as he hung up the phone, then looked around the room at the collection of detectives who’d helped them solve this case.

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