Bon Bon Voyage (5 page)

“My God,” said Vera, “where did I go wrong raising that boy?” She headed back to her room, muttering, “Bonbons. Next he'll be giving me lace underwear.”

“They're just candy,” Luz announced. “What's the big deal?” She helped herself to another from Vera's box before heading for our bedroom.

I unwrapped my box, hoping for truffles.
Bon voyage and happy Mother's Day,
indeed! Jason had to know, after all these years, that I like truffles or anything chocolate, which the gift did not appear to include. Unless there was a second layer filled with chocolate-covered bonbons. And if he really wanted me to have a good trip and a happy Mother's Day, he'd be here. I left his gift on the end table and headed to my room for a shower and some much-needed sleep. I'd no sooner opened the door than I discovered Luz stripping off her jeans. “I can lend you a nightgown,” I offered hastily.

“Jesus Christ, Carolyn, I can sleep naked. Just call me when the little guy gets here with my stuff.”

I agreed and left hurriedly before she got all her clothes off. Because Vera had gone into her room and closed the door, I didn't get to see either her room or the advertised bathtub. Hadn't the brochure said something about waterspouts in the tub? It seemed unfair that Luz and I were stuck with a closet bath while my mother-in-law had the luxurious one.

Feeling put upon, probably as a result of sleep deprivation, I examined the sitting room more closely than I had while trying to mediate the initial meeting between my two roommates and during the arrival of the unappreciated bonbons. As well as the table and chairs, there was a sitting area with two loveseats edging a coffee table and one armchair on the third side, all of which faced a television set that folded down from the ceiling, according to the TV booklet on an end table. The color scheme was rose and gray. Beyond a large draped area were sliding doors that led to a balcony with white metal chairs and a low table. The outside chairs had rose cushions on the seats. If I hadn't been so exhausted, I'd have sat there with my abandoned wine and nuts and gazed at the harbor.

Instead, assuming that Luz was under the sheets by now, I put the unfinished goblet and half-eaten packet on the table, took a nightgown and toiletries out of my carry-on, and tiptoed through to the mini-bath. Luz was fast asleep while I struggled out of my clothes and into the shower, where the water ran hot immediately and I luxuriated in a thorough soaping and spraying, not to mention the scrubbing of my face and ears. The
Bountiful Feast
may have been sailing from a European port, but unlike European hotels, it provided wash-cloths. Of course, I'd brought my own, but I wouldn't have to use them.

I didn't even have to use my own toiletries. The mirrored door above the sink revealed a full array of lotions, shampoos, perfumed soaps, toothbrushes, and toothpastes. I brushed my teeth vigorously, slipped out of the bathroom, dropped my travel clothes into the laundry bag provided by the ship, and fell into bed. I doubt that I've ever fallen asleep faster in my life. I barely had time to realize that Luz did groan in her sleep, although I doubted that my mother-in-law snored. She just wanted the room to herself, which was fine with me. I didn't want to share with her anyway. She had an uncanny talent for hurting my feelings.

However, the ultimate candy to produce happiness is the truffle, so I've provided a simple truffle recipe that you can fix in any number of flavors.

Stir in ¾ cup vanilla wafer crumbs and ¼ cup seedless
strawberry preserves.

Mix the following ingredients:
1 cup finely rolled vanilla wafer
crumbs
;
cup confectioner's sugar
; ¾
cup finely chopped
pecans
;
1 tablespoon instant coffee powder
;
2 tablespoons
melted butter
;
1½ tablespoons light corn syrup
; and
¼ cup
coffee liqueur.

Bring
¾
cup heavy cream
almost to a boil and pour it over chocolate. Whisk to blend.

Carolyn Blue, “Have Fork, Will Travel,”
Phoenix Sun

7

I woke up feeling pretty good, taking notice of my mood and my physical condition, as I always do before I open my eyes. Some days it's not worth getting out of bed. That day it seemed safe: I didn't feel like biting anyone's head off or yelling at my dog, and my knees didn't ache. Then I did open my eyes and got a high-voltage jolt.

Where the hell was I? Oh, Christ! Carolyn's frigging cruise. Narrow bed, like I was a nun or some damn thing. Fussy boat colors. We were probably already at sea since I felt a weird vibration I never noticed in my condo at home. So I checked for seasickness. Nope. I didn't feel like puking, but I did look around wildly for the bathroom and, spotting a door, grabbed a terry robe someone had left on the bed, not the weird little steward I hoped, and sprang out from under the covers.

Whoops! I slammed the door to the living room shut and tried another.
Hijo de puta!
If this was the luxurious john with water-spouting tub Carolyn had told me about, the
Bountiful Feast
people were going to be really sorry they lied to us! To take a piss, I had to put one elbow in the sink. To take a shower, I was wedged between a tile wall and a glass door, on which I scraped my butt trying to get in. At least the water was hot, and the soap, which smelled like a whorehouse full of perfume, made suds. I felt better, except for a second scrape getting out, and scrambled into the robe. If I showed up naked in the living room, Carolyn would faint. No telling what her mother-in-law would do. The woman had a personality like broken glass.

I padded barefoot into the living room and spotted Carolyn and Vera sitting on a balcony, all dressed up, with a million miles of water in the background. What I didn't see was my suitcase, and when I glanced over my shoulder into the bedroom, it wasn't there either. The only things of mine in there were my traveling jeans and denim shirt, neatly draped over a chair (not by me; I'd dropped them in a heap on the floor when we got in) and my sling bag sitting on the carpet by the chair.

They'd lost my suitcase, the bastards. Or that Luis at the airport had stolen it. If the ship had been returning to Lisbon when this mess was over, I'd have torn the city apart looking for him and wrung his thieving neck. When I stomped over to the sliding glass doors and glared at Carolyn in her comfy deck chair, she jumped up, looking really surprised.

“Luz!”

“Right!” I snarled. “Where's my bag?”

“The Albanian can't find it,” said her mother-in-law. “Silly man was in tears when he came to tell us.”

Carolyn thought I might as well go back to bed while she tried to find a solution to my problem. “What? And miss the champagne party?” I snarled. “And the great hors d'oeuvres, and getting my picture taken with the captain, not to mention our first gourmet dinner at sea? No way.”

I left Carolyn stuttering and her mother-in-law grinning like an ancient
bruja
; she lacked only the pointy hat and broomstick. Once back in the bedroom with the door closed, I climbed into my second-day-dirty clothes and considered how to make myself glamorous. My sorority sisters, nitwits all, used to say, if you had only a plain dress for a special occasion, dress it up with a scarf or jewelry. They probably read that in some woman's magazine that told how to charm a man or lose weight or find a good hairdresser.

Showing a little skin was recommended, so I unbuttoned the shirt down to my bra, tied the tails in a knot under my boobs, pushed my underpants down so they didn't show above my jeans, checked my belly button for lint, put on my grandmother's turquoise jewelry, and added lipstick. Now I had to choose between sneakers and bare feet. I remembered little bows stuck to the stuff in the bathroom medicine chest, so I rescued two of those and taped them on my big toes. Maybe people would think I had on see-through sandals. Or that I was just some nutcase. Satisfied, I sashayed out to startle my roommates with my new look.

Carolyn gaped. Her mother-in-law laughed out loud and said, “I like a woman with a sense of humor.”

I'd been hoping Luz would want to order room service and go back to bed. No such luck. Obviously she planned to spend the whole tour wearing those jeans unless I could figure something out, but she was too tall to wear
my
clothes. We took the elevator down to the reception with people staring at us—well, at Luz, who smiled back and pointed a toe occasionally to admire the bow she'd attached to it. I couldn't help but feel that she was getting even with me for talking her into this trip.

My mother-in-law actually whispered to some woman on the elevator that she thought Luz was a famous designer from Madrid. Luz played right along by speaking in Spanish to a man next to her. He obviously had no idea what she was saying, but he was so flattered by her attention that he trailed us into the reception and stuck close, handing her glasses of champagne and snatching canapé trays from waiters to offer her while we were standing in line to be introduced to the captain.

The hors d'oeuvres were lovely: caviar on toast, tiny tempura shrimp, pork dumplings with a lovely soy and rice-wine vinegar dipping sauce, salty, red-brown cracked olives, and little puff pastries filled with everything from brandied fruit to tuna bits in a mild horseradish cream. I'm afraid I made a pig of myself, but then I was here to write about their food, so I had to taste it. The champagne waiters were followed by waitresses carrying trays with tiny portions of Chambord and a peach liqueur, which they would pour into your champagne to make Bellinis if you indicated an interest. I'd had two by the time Luz reached the captain.