Like this:

I can’t believe it. I actually made it up to the deck in time to throw streamers and confetti at those poor unfortunate souls (or wait….are they the lucky ones?….I mean, I bet THEY have beds to sleep in! I, however, have an empty cabin!) who had to stay behind on shore. Looking around at my fellow passengers, well, let’s just say that for some of them, the term “motley crew” seems to be quite fitting. Perhaps instead of laughing and waving, throwing confetti and streamers at those “poor unfortunate souls” wishing us a Bon Voyage, I should be jumping overboard and swimming my way back to join them. This voyage looks to be rather, errrrrr, odd and perhaps just a bit (ok more than just a bit) frightening. I fear that too much will be asked of me, too many expectations and I am just not that brave. 

Perhaps it’s not too late. Perhaps there is some sort of a small boat, a dingy maybe, that I could take back to shore. Yes, that’s it. I will go back to shore and find my way back to Riversleigh Manor. Ohhhhhh, I am picturing my room at Riversleigh. The bed with its lovely thick soft featherbed. Ahhhhh to be sinking down into that comfort tonight rather than the cold hard floor I seem to be faced with if I choose to remain on board. Perhaps I could call the, now what do you call them on a ship, the steward? Maybe he – or she – could provide me with some furniture. Surely they must have something down in the ship’s holds for just such emergencies (or completely different but equally odd predicaments – I mean, really! L’Enchanteur invites, no rather INSISTS, that I tag along on her great high seas adventure and she doesn’t even have the common decency to provide me with furniture? What kind of a hostess treats her guests like that?) But wait. I have peeked into many of the cabins on board and it seems that I am the only one who has been left with nothing. In fact, the cabins I have seen are quite nicely outfitted and comfortable, some of them even luxurious and extravagant!

BOOM! CRACK! I jump and my mind is shocked back to my surroundings as the fireworks burst in the sky. I didn’t miss them either! I guess that’s something to be grateful for, I told myself, trying to push thoughts of how much my back was going to hurt after spending the night on the floor of my quarters out of my mind. Would I even be able to get up off the floor without help? Oh now that’s an event I would prefer to skip – SS Vulcania crew members rush to passenger’s aid only to find her lying on the floor, face contorted into terrifying shapes, body sprawled into the most unflattering and un-ladylike of positions. When they arrived in her cabin, they found her attempting to crawl across the floor like an animal, making grunting and gasping noises to accompany her movements. Oh no, it would not be a pretty sight and I fear it would be the talk of the ship for weeks to come! Another loud bang, crash as more fireworks burst through the sky. My but these are the most beautiful fireworks I have ever seen! The colours are so rich and they gleam and glitter like they are made of diamonds. Even the sound of the fireworks is different than any I have ever heard before – more pleasant, almost musical. Leave it to E…even the fireworks are more artistic!

I reach into my satchel and pull out my offerings, the necklace and the horse statue, for Vulcan and Neptune. I nearly forgot them in all the excitement! I look around carefully, ensuring that I am not being watched. I remove the offerings from their wrappings, the finest of cloth woven by master weavers from the Island of Temple People, and throw them overboard, whispering my fervent hope to the Gods for a safe journey. They hit the water with a relatively loud splash but it is lost in the sounds of the people, the ship, its horn, and of course, the fireworks. My eyes glance around me again, darting to and fro, searching the crowd for any unwanted attention on myself and my activities. No one seems to have noticed a thing. I breathe deeply. The sea air feels good in my lungs.

From behind me, I hear voices excitedly discussing something….something about a performance….on E deck….oh E not again! You do so love to make us “sing for our supper” don’t you? You are the performer E, not me. You know how I despise performing in public. Oh, my hands are damp already, I can feel beads of sweat on my upper lip, and my heart is beating faster. Why must you insist on drawing us out of our shells? Some of us are perfectly comfortable in there you know. Yes yes I know, I can already hear your voice in my head E. It’s good for you Cyn. New experiences! Taking a chance! Putting yourself out there! As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Putting on a performance in my fabulous Princess Theatre would certainly fit the bill now wouldn’t it? Laughter. Much raucous laughter ensues. Suddenly I realize that I am not simply imagining E’s voice in my head. I look around quickly but I don’t see her anywhere. More laughter. I suppose I had better come up with some sort of performance and quick!

I sulk my way back to my cabin, dismayed by both the upcoming performance and the lack of furnishings in my cabin. Then a thought enters my mind. L’Enchanteur always provides for her guests. She is the most gracious of hostesses and her staff is uniquely gifted with the ability to sense and fulfill your needs. Such a woman wouldn’t leave me with an empty room. No, she was simply making some sort of a point. E does that a lot! I am sure that by the time I reach my cabin door, I will be thrilled to find that my cabin is indeed outfitted in exactly the right way for me, with just the right things in it. Oh yes, it will be wonderful! I shall be so comfortable that I may just stay in there forever! Excitedly, I skip the rest of the way to my cabin door. Skipping? When was the last time I skipped? Oh never mind.

Reaching the door, I find that I am most enthusiastic about what I am about to see. For effect and to show just what a momentous occasion this truly is, I fling open the door with a flourish, louding proclaiming “Ta da!!!!!!!” for all to hear. I am standing there, poised, like Vanna and her board of letters (do you suppose asking E if I could buy a vowel would do any good whatsoever at this point?), arms outstretched, smiling broadly from ear to ear. A couple, passing behind me, have paused for a moment and I hear the man’s voice declare, “Well would you look at that? She must be a magician! She just made all her furniture disappear!” Of course that was when I knew that my cabin, was indeed, still empty, save the bags I have brought with me. No furniture. Not one stick of it. Made it disappear eh? Oh, if he only knew!

Sighing heavily, I walk inside and sink to the floor in the middle of my cabin. Sitting there, lamenting the state of my cabin, I keep recalling the man’s words and suddenly it dawns on me. My performance for E. That’s it! I shall teach her a couple of magic tricks of my own. Smiling with satisfaction, I decide that it’s time to finally unpack my belongings and try to make this cabin into some sort of a home away from home since clearly I am going to be living in it for quite some time. Picking up my duffle bag, I hear something hit the ground with a “clink”. Bending down to pick it up, I see that it is a walnut shell. A note tied onto the walnut shell identifies this as a gift from E. Knowing E, I am sure that this is no ordinary walnut shell. I have the feeling I won’t understand its true potential until later in the voyage, likely at the moment when I need such knowledge the most. That’s how things work around L’Enchanteur. I flip the note containing E’s signature and wax seal over and there is something written there as well, in E’s hand. It says, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” (Wayne Dyer) I peer closely at the walnut shell. There is something more there but I just can’t quite make it out.

A voice crackles over the PA system, announcing that it’s time for our performances on E deck. Taking a deep breath, running my fingers through my hair hoping to tame some of the curls into place, and smoothing my hands over my skirt, ironing out the wrinkles with my fingers, I turn to face the door to my cabin once again. This time there is no dramatic opening of the door, no flourish, no “Ta da!”. There is simply me, opening the door to my fear and facing it with courage. Save me a spot on stage E! 

 

 

 

 

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