Page 97 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“Five! Five humpbacks. And one of them breached. Almost its entire body came out of the water.” She leans backward to demonstrate. “We got splashed, we were so close. So close!”

Now that’s something I’m definitely envious of. Next offseason I should take myself to see some whales. “Was Dad wowed by it too?”

She looks to the side, presumably at Dad. “He’s just taking a little nap.”

There’s a groan in the background.

Something is definitely wrong here. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“That means he’s not fine right now. What’s up?”

“We weren’t going to tell you because we didn’t want you to think we were disappointed or anything.” Oh fuck, what has he done? “But I can’t bring myself to hide anything from you. It wouldn’t be fair.” That sentence twists like a knife in my guts. “He was actually throwing up from about five minutes after we left the dock.”

“Oh shit.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says. “He’s had some anti-nausea pills now. And that drink they give babies to rehydrate them.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Gabe wants to speak to you,” she says to my dad.

“I’m fine” comes Dad’s barely audible moan.

“Mom, can you just turn the phone around so I can see him?”

“He won’t be happy if I do.”

“You just said it’s not right to keep anything from me.” Again, the irony of me holding that over them hurts like hell.

The camera does a spin around the cabin that makes me feel a bit dizzy. Then it lands on the palest face I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Are you sure you’re fine, Dad?”

“Yup,” he says. He’s lying flat on his back on the bed, with Mom holding the phone over him. “Just need to rest. My stomach’s been in the wars.”

“Have you seen a medical person?”

“Yes,” Mom says, out of view. “The whale watch crew told us to go straight to the nurse’s office as soon as we got back on board the cruise ship. That’s who gave him the pills and the drink.”

“She said I just need to rehydrate and sleep,” Dad says.

“Okay, well, I should probably go and let you rest. Did you manage to look up from all the…not feeling well to see the whales though?” I ask, trying to find some upside of this for him, but avoiding the word “puking” in case it sets him off again.

“One flipper.” Dad cracks a smile. “Magical. Such huge creatures. Out there living their lives. And I got to see a flipper. Truly amaz?—”

He pauses and rests his hand on his chest. Then lets rip a gargantuan burp.

The phone spins back to Mom. “He’ll be fine once he’s rested and his stomach has settled enough to get some food inside him.”

“I have some news that might cheer him up.”

“Oooh, what’s that?” she asks. “Have you met someone?”

Where the hell did that bit of psychic phenomenon come from? “What? What made you say that?”

“Well, you know, when you’re staying at a place like the one you’re at, those exclusive placesusually only have a few clients at a time, so you all get to know each other quite well. And I imagine there’s probably only a small staff too, and you’re all there cooped up together getting to know one another. And there’s hands all over you all the time and?—”

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