My voice was very quiet.
“I don’t.”
She seemed confused.
“I’m seventy-one years old.
My husband died before we could take this trip.
I’ve already buried the person I thought I’d grow old with.
I wake up every day knowing that the years ahead of me are fewer than the years behind me.”
She swallowed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You may think I have endless time because I’m retired.
But that doesn’t make my days less valuable than yours.”
Neither of us spoke.
For the first time since she’d entered my cabin, Vanessa looked uncomfortable.
Then she glanced at the clock.
“So you’re really not going to watch the kids tomorrow?”
I almost smiled.
All that conversation.
All those words.
And we were right back where we started.
“No,” I said.
Her eyes hardened.
“Fine.”
She moved toward the door.
“Then I guess one of us will have to miss the excursion.”
“Yes.”
She turned sharply.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No, Vanessa.
I’m not enjoying being in conflict with my family.”
“Could have fooled me.”
She opened the door.
Before she stepped into the corridor, I spoke again.
“There’s one more thing.”
She looked back.
“Don’t tell the children that I don’t want to spend time with them.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Nobody said that.”
“Sophie told me what she heard.”
Vanessa looked away.
“She’s seven.
She gets confused.”
“Then explain it to her properly.”
Vanessa didn’t respond.
She stepped out and closed the door behind her.
I sat quietly for several minutes.
Then I looked at my notebook.
Beside the words Visit St.
Thomas, I had drawn a little star months earlier.
Robert and I had looked at photographs of that island so many times.
There was no way I was going to miss it now.
At seven the next morning, I was dressed and ready.
I wore light linen trousers, comfortable walking shoes, and a pale blue blouse.
I packed sunscreen, sunglasses, my wallet, and a bottle of water.
Then I checked my excursion information.
The meeting time was eight-thirty in one of the ship’s lounges.
I had enough time for a quick breakfast.
I was reaching for my handbag when someone knocked.
Michael stood outside.
He looked as though he hadn’t slept.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning.”
He glanced into my room.
“Can I come in?”
I stepped aside.
He stood near the foot of the bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Vanessa told me you two talked last night.”
“Yes.”
“She was pretty upset.”
“I noticed.”
He looked at my shoes and the small bag over my shoulder.
“You’re going on that tour?”
“I am.”
“Mom, is there any chance you’d change your mind?”
I looked at him.
“Michael.”
“I know what you said.
I’m just asking.”
“Then the answer is still no.”
He nodded slowly.
“We checked the children’s activities.
There’s a program they can attend onboard, but it doesn’t cover what we need for the excursion.
We can’t just leave them there for the entire morning and afternoon.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Vanessa really wants to go snorkeling.”
“Then perhaps you could stay with the children.”
He rubbed his face.
“That’s what we’re discussing.”
I watched my son struggle.
There was a time when I would have jumped in immediately.
I would have canceled my excursion.
I would have volunteered to supervise the children.
I would have told myself it wasn’t a sacrifice because I loved them.
And Michael knew that.
Which was why he had come to my door.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “I don’t want this trip to turn into some kind of punishment.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
I felt a sadness settle over me.
“Because you won’t accept that I have the right to say no.”
He stared at me.
I continued.
“If you had invited me on this cruise and said, ‘Mom, we’d love to have you, but we’d also like you to watch the kids for a couple of evenings.
Would that be okay?’
I might have agreed to some of it.”
His face changed.
“But you didn’t ask.
You made all the plans first.
Then you expected me to obey.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
“I guess I didn’t think of it like that.”
“I know.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “I thought because you didn’t have Dad anymore, it might be easier for you to spend time with the kids while we went out.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
There it was again.
The assumption beneath everything.
Because I was widowed, my time was somehow less important.
Because I didn’t have a husband waiting beside me, I didn’t need beautiful dinners or days exploring islands.
I sat in the chair across from him.
“Michael, listen to me.”
He raised his head.
“I am alone because my husband died.
Not because I stopped being a person.”
His eyes filled with tears.
I hadn’t intended to make him cry.
But I wasn’t sorry I’d said it.
“I still want to see things,” I continued.
“I still want to laugh.
I still want to sit in a beautiful restaurant and have somebody bring me dinner.
I still want to wake up somewhere I’ve never been before.”
He looked down at his hands.
“Mom…”
“Your father wanted those things for me, too.”
A long silence passed.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
I waited.
He stood.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Thank you.”
He walked toward the door.
Just before leaving, he turned back.
“Have a good time today, Mom.”
The words were awkward.
But they were the first genuine wish for my enjoyment I’d heard from him since boarding.
I smiled.
“I intend to.”
St.
Thomas was more beautiful than anything I had imagined.
When I stepped off the ship, the warm Caribbean air wrapped around me.
The water near the harbor shimmered in shades of blue and green.
Colorful buildings climbed the hills.
Palm trees swayed in the breeze.
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