I am writing this entry on my fifth day aboard the Lodestar, a luxury cruise ship in the Mediterranean Sea. I’ve never heard of the cruise company before, and I hadn’t signed up for any contest to win either this or the other cruise I had won in the mail, but between the two, this one was farther from home, so it won out. I wanted to be away from everything familiar, away from myself if it was possible. Of course, the opposite has been the case.
The trip started off well enough. I flew out of Atlanta, my heart thudding as the plane took off. I kept being haunted by the idea of all the flights that crashed where only a few people survived. I wasn’t very worried about myself, but I didn’t want to be responsible for the people around me being hurt or dying. I’d be lying if I said it was a pleasant flight, as I felt myself tensing at the slightest noise or shimmy of turbulence, but other than hearing several people complaining about small inconveniences like their phone dying or something being wrong with their meal, the trip was uneventful.
We landed in Barcelona, and from there I took a taxi to the docks where the ship was boarding. After going through the initial check-in and handing over the suitcase I had brought, I went up the series of small ramps to the ship itself. It was beautiful, feeling more like a fancy hotel than a big boat until you looked out a window. The ship left the port, and while I could occasionally feel the slight motion of the water we were slipping through, I felt no signs of the sea sickness I’d had the few times I had been on the water growing up. I felt a combination of gratefulness and bitterness as I guessed the reason for the change, but pushing the thought aside I tried to focus on exploring the ship.
The ship was truly massive, filled with rooms, three restaurants, a casino, four pools, and even a small ice rink on one of the lower levels. I considered trying to kill time in the casino, but my stomach turned at the idea of having the constant reminder of winning. Instead I went up to one of the upper decks and looked out at the water. It’s June as I write this, and the weather has been warm but not hot, with the cool air coming off the sea being both gentle and refreshing. I felt myself starting to relax slightly, and as the hours went by uneventfully, I actually started to enjoy myself, or at least not hate myself so much.
The next day we landed in Italy near Florence, and while I debated
getting off the ship at all, I was glad when I did. The city was
beautiful, with such a weight of history and artistry around every
corner. I started out with one of the ship’s tour groups, but I felt
uncomfortable around so many people. Splitting off by myself, I
traveled some of the smaller streets away from the main piazzas, dipping
in and out of shops and grabbing a sandwich to eat as I walked. Being
alone, with so many things to distract me, I actually felt good for the
first time in months.
The next two days were much the same. The ship stopped in Rome and then in Venice, and I had days of solitary sightseeing that were peaceful. The fourth full day at sea was actually called an “at sea” day, with the ship not landing at any port on its way to a stop along the coast of Croatia. Naturally, that led a lot of people to take the day to relax by the pools, and I was no different.
I had set up in a lounge chair away from other people, my face barely shaded by a nearby umbrella. I wasn’t showing yet, and my old bathing suits still fit just fine, but it still struck me how little I cared how I looked anymore. Occasionally I would see a guy looking at me, weighing his odds if he came over, but clearly my expression told them all they needed to know. I reminded myself of my mother. Never truly laughing or smiling, just putting on faces as was needed for the task at hand. I had closed my eyes, trying to force those thoughts away and maybe take a nap, when the strong smell of cinnamon hit my nostrils. The smell was so strong and sharp that I sat up and opened my eyes almost involuntarily. That’s when I found the young woman standing nearby, her smile seeming genuine as she gave a light laugh.
She gestured at the chair next to mine. “Is this taken?”
I shook my head and she plopped down, spreading her hair out behind the top edge of the chair and settling back. I thought it was strange that she picked that spot when there were plenty of open chairs, but I was about to lay back down on my own when she spoke again.
“So what smell is it?”
I froze mid lay-down and turned back to her. “What?”
She rolled on her side and propped her head on her hand as she looked at me. She looked to be about twenty and was on the beautiful side of pretty, but she also seemed strange. Not just what she was saying, but her…manner. Her movements, the meter of her words, they all seemed slightly off from what I would expect from someone of her age. Then she was speaking again.
“When I came up. You smelled a strong smell, right? What was it?”
I blinked. “Cinnamon.”
She laughed and gave a nod. “That’s lucky. Sometimes you get a burning trash or dog shit smell, or strong cheese. I hate cheese, except for American, which is mainly plastic anyway, right?”
I felt like I had stumbled into the middle of a conversation she was having with someone else. “I don’t understand.”
The woman gave a shake of her head. “Sorry, not trying to be mysterious or weird. Just been looking forward to talking to you. Running off at the mouth.” She stopped a minute, looking around before continuing. “When I got near you, I smelled coconut. Those of us with…the luck is what most of us call it…we can smell when each other are near. You can’t ever predict what the smell will be, and once it’s smelt, it’s always the same for that person. So again, better you smelled cinnamon than dog shit when I showed up, because that can happen.” She gave another laugh.
My mind was racing, and I wasn’t sure what to believe or what to say. I didn’t want to admit to anything in case this was a misunderstanding or a trick, but I also didn’t want to give up this chance to possibly learn more about what was going on. Ultimately, I just lamely blurted out, “I don’t smell my mother or grandmother.”
The woman’s face grew more serious for a moment before lightening again. “Well, no it doesn’t happen inside your own family. I don’t know why, but I don’t know why the smells happen in the first place.” She studied me for a moment. “Did they tell you there were other families like yours?”
I shook my head and she reached over to pat my arm. “Well, this is even weirder for you then. I’m sorry.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, folding her legs underneath her. “Ok. There are other families that have it too, just like yours. Not many, of course. I know about eight. Well, seven now.” She frowned but pushed on. “To answer some questions you might have off the bat, yes, it’s always girls. Yes, the rules are the same for everyone. Yes, a lot of it sucks, but you can learn to live with it and use the rules in your favor.” The girl beamed as though she had just finished a sales pitch, which in some ways she had. I shrugged in return.
“I guess. I just am so tired. I’m so guilty feeling for all these people I’m hurting.”
She nodded. “Understandable. Totally get it. But once you come to terms with people getting hurt and that you can influence who that is, it becomes easier to channel the bad into something more positive.” Noticing my confused stare, she went on. “Ok. Wow. They told you very little.” She swung her feet back onto the chair, turning to face out at the pool. “Alright, you see the little guy across the way, sitting next to bar? The one with the glasses?”
I nodded. “Yeah. So?”
She turned her gaze back to me. “So, he’s a convicted child molester. Two months after he got paroled, he got a letter in the mail saying he had one a free cruise. This cruise. Lucky, right?” She gave me a wink. “Now, during his trip, I’ve made it a point to talk to him for a few minutes. Make sure I have a clear memory and feel for him. And a few days from now, when he’s back home, lying to his parole officer that he hasn’t left the city, much less the country, he’ll have some really bad luck. And that will be the story of him.”
“But how? I thought we don’t control it?”
She waggled her hand back and forth. “Eh, we do and we don’t. It’s going to happen regardless, we can’t stop it, that’s for sure. But you can channel it to a large degree. If you go to sleep thinking about someone with deep anger or hatred towards them, most of the time, they’re going to get popped the next day or two. And you’ll find that very little other stuff happens if you give the bad a direction regularly.”
I thought about Brad and felt nauseous, but pressed on. “So how did you pick him? How did you know about him in the first place?”
The girl grinned. “Oh, this is my ship. My cruise line. It’s semi-profitable, but it’s real purpose is that once or twice a year I also take a cruise myself. On those trips, I make sure I have a dozen or so people show up that can go onto my list. Pedophiles, murderers, people that the world is better without. And I chat with them some, get enough so I can put some feeling behind it when the time comes. And then they go home. Then some time later, it might be a week or a few months, I’ll do my part, and they will feed whatever this thing really is.”
I sat for a moment, thinking about all that she was saying. Was it true? And why hadn’t her mother or grandmother told her about it? About any of this? She didn’t know what to believe or whether she could trust this woman at all.
“How long have you been doing this?”
Her grin widened. “Fifty two years, give or take. My mother did it a little before she passed, and I know some other families do variations on it as well, but I like to think I’ve perfected it. I’m helping the world and myself too.”
I sucked in a breath as she spoke. “How old are you?”
“73.” She paused and raised a hand. “I know how it sounds with you being so new to it all, but I’ve been doing this pretty much since it came on me, and there are certain benefits to directing it beyond your conscience. You don’t really age, and your body can even get younger and stronger depending on how frequently you do it. Plus, it really does make you look better, or at least closer to how you would want yourself to look. You won’t look like a totally different person, but more like the best version of yourself. And believe me, some people have a very broad range they can travel in that regard. Before this stuff hit me, my face looked like someone took a shit from the top of the ugly tree.” She swung herself back around to facing me, her face serious again. “Look, I know this is a ton of stuff to take in. If not for all you’ve been through, you would think it was all made up shit. But I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I think you’ve seen enough to know that what I’m saying is possible. You just have to decide how much you can trust you can put in it and me.”
I frowned at her. “I don’t know how much I can trust. Why have you been keeping an eye on me?”
The woman sighed, and for the first time she looked truly sad. “I
used to be your mother’s best friend. She wasn’t introduced to all of
this until just a few months before it came on her, but our families
have always gotten along fairly well, so we were that introduction. Me
and her became close really quickly. She always smelled like
cotton-candy to me.” She smiled, her eyes glimmering. “I was with her
when she met your father. He was handsome, and such a good guy. She
loved him so much.” She stopped and rubbed her eyes. “But things
happened, and she cut off ties from everyone. Even me. She was
pregnant with you at the time, so I never got to meet you before now,
but I’ve always kept an eye out.”
“What ‘things happened’? I’m so tired of people not telling me everything. What happened back then that changed everything so much?”
She was shaking her head before I even finished. “I’m sorry, Eliza, but I can’t go into that. I don’t know all the details, and even if I did, that’s for your mother to tell. It won’t be easy for her, but I think if you push her on it she will be honest.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “She won’t even return my calls. The only person that will even talk to me anymore, aside from I guess you now, is my grandmother.”
The woman’s face hardened, her expression dark. “Well, go to her then. Make her talk. After you have talked to her, I’m happy to talk to you again, to help any way I can. But please, if you take nothing else I’ve said to heart, listen to me on this: Do not trust that other woman, the one you call grandmother.”
My eyes widened. “What? Why? She’s my grandmother. She’s always looked out for me.”
She shook her head. “No. No she isn’t and no she hasn’t.”
“What’re you saying?”
She reached forward, gripping my hand tightly. “I’m saying that fucking bitch isn’t your grandmother and she is extremely dangerous. That’s what I’m saying.”
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Credits
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