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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504971942 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 01/23/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 110 |
| File size: | 144 KB |
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Ship of Dreams
By Marvin Mars
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2016 Marvin MarsAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-7192-8
CHAPTER 1
The morning sun filtered through the high, arched windows of the dining room. Drapes were pulled aside and the sunlight spread serenely over the tables and lit the decorative carpeting on the floor to the entrance of the dining room.
Pam and Calista sat a few tables from the entrance to the dining room, having their coffee and warm baguettes, going over the itinerary for the day. From the entrance, a shadow of a person was cast on the carpet, which piqued Pam's attention. The person causing the shadow was about six feet tall, thinning brown hair and appropriately dressed--no shorts, no sport shirt with a golf club motif, no white running shoes with blue trim and black socks. This man wore tan cotton slacks, plain sport shirt and brown walking shoes. She couldn't see his socks.
Harold looked around the dining room and decided to sit at the table close to him, which was about two tables away from the women looking at him. He noticed their peering and nodded his head, acknowledging their curious attention. The waiter came to Harold's table almost immediately with a flask of coffee in one hand and orange juice in the other.
"Buenos dias," the waiter greeted him, wearing a big smile. The aroma of the coffee stirred Harold's appetite. He ordered hot cereal with banana and the hot baguettes he smelled when he entered the dining room. The waiter left, and as he left, one of the women, Pam, was at his side in almost an instant. She looked down at Harold and smiled, said, "I am Pam," and asked if she could sit down. Harold, for the moment, felt befuddled and amused at her forwardness. He motioned to Pam to sit and motioned to the water to bring coffee. Pam introduced herself and apologized for intruding on him and his breakfast. Harold took at long look at her before he answered, "Of course, not. I am glad to have the company." She quickly and efficiently put her body in the chair next to him.
Harold continued looking at Pam, trying to size her up without being too obvious.
She looked to Harold to be between 65 and 70 years old; her complexion was clear and not too wrinkled. There didn't appear to be a facelift. The lines around her eyes gave them a look of experience. The more he looked at her eyes he noticed a thin scar from the middle of her left eyebrow extending an inch out from the end of the eyebrow. Generally, her face was well-proportioned, and so was her body. Her beige pantsuit was accented by an orange scarf around her neck. Everything about Pam, Harold thought, was very pleasing.
Pam started the conversation, asking if Harold was alone, alone, and if he was going to be on the "Adriana," sailing down the coast of Italy and around to the Adriatic Sea. Harold nodded his head affirmatively and kept looking at Pam. The more he looked at her the more he found her appealing. He liked the bright blue eyes that looked at him and her voice. Her voice was well-modulated and not threatening. Harold, keeping the conversation going, asked where she and her friend were from.
"Kansas City," Pam replied. "That is, Kansas." the Midwestern accent put a slight smile on Harold's face. He thought the sound of it was rather homey and clear.
Pam asked if he was going on the morning tour bus to see the highlights of Barcelona. Again, he nodded his head "Yes."
"Well," she said, "then I will see you soon. The bus leaves in 35 minutes. It will be nice seeing the sights together." With that she excused herself and went back to her table. Harold wasn't sure what to think of her and their short encounter. He looked over to their table and Pam was chatting away with the friend, Calista. The waiter brought him his food. His thoughts and effort went into eating his cereal quickly so he could wrap his mouth around one of the warm baguettes with butter that melted almost instantly when placed on and in the baguette.
Harold was a few minutes late for the bus, having to return to his room for sunglasses he left lying on the dresser. The tour bus was almost full, and he had to search about for a seat. Harold found one next to a heavy-set man, a few seats down from Pam and her mate, Calista, again acknowledging the two before he sat down. The man sitting next to him smiled. Harold noticed he was wearing shorts, a baseball cap with the N.Y. Yankees insignia and a t-shirt emblazoned with "I Love N.Y."
The bus travelled along the main boardwalk of Barcelona. The traffic was moderately heavy for that time of the day. As the tour bus approached a residential area the driver diverted the passengers' attention to the apartment houses designed by Gaudi. Harold marveled at the architecture and was curious how the apartments were laid out. If they had high ceilings, what accouterments? Harold's mind wandered, thinking about Gaudi and his designs before he realized the bus stopped at his greatest achievement, the Cathedral Segrada de Familia.
People started moving toward the exit door as Harold was still thinking of Gaudi. As Pam and Calista passed by him, Pam touched his shoulder. He looked up at her and she smiled with her right eyebrow slightly raised. Looking down at him she asked why he wasn't getting off the bus. His thoughts moved to where he was and he realized that an inchoate attraction was forming. The man next to Harold cleared his throat to bring attention to himself. Harold looked at him and realized the man wanted to move out. Harold obliged and followed the passengers off the tour bus.
Pam and Calista were several feet away from him looking intently at the church, seeming much awed by the structure. Harold was amazed and impressed with the effort and genius that Gaudi had put into it. Even though Gaudi had passed away, the ultimate church was timeless in the world of time and movement. The work on the cathedral continued on with formidable hard work and love which started in 1883.
As he observed the structure, the columns fascinated him. He counted the columns that reached to the ceiling, forming an elegant horseshoe shape. The Gothic structure supported 18 spires. There were many facades. He intently looked at the Seven Deadly Sins--pondered that for awhile--then the Nativity Scene--how blissful and naive it seemed to him.
As Harold continually looked up at the work completed and still in progress, Pam sidled up to him, slightly nudged him. "You are invited for a drink at the hotel when we return," then walked back to Calista, not waiting for an answer. Slowly the bus people returned to their seats and waited for the next viewing of the attractions of Barcelona.
Harold mused over what he had seen; much impressed him in Barcelona. He admired the layout of the city and the public structures, apartment buildings and parks. This is a city he could live in and enjoy, he mused.
The bus arrived at the hotel in late afternoon. As the bus people departed they dutifully deposited coins and paper money into the driver's hand. "Gracias, gracias," the driver kept repeating eagerly, grasping the money. Harold went to his room and sat in the overstuffed chair, reflecting on the trip. He sat there for about ten minutes, then quickly pulled his body out of the chair, remembering the meeting at the bar.
He went into the white-tiled bathroom with the white walls and white towels and white soap, washed his hands and face, dried, brushed his hair, changed his shirt, patted eau de cologne (a gift of the hotel) under his arms and proceeded to the bar/ lounge to meet the ladies.
Harold entered the bar/lounge; the bar was to his right and the lounge was three steps down from where he stood. The bar and lounge were separated by a large round brass rail supported by rounded mahogany posts. Harold looked into the semi-dark lounge and saw a hand suspended in the air. He walked down the steps and to the direction of the hand. Pam was sitting alone at the candlelit table. Harold sat down across from her. The light from the candle gave Pam's face a warm glow. Pam and Harold looked at each other without a word until a moment later a waitress came. Harold ordered a bottled mineral water; Pam held fast with her Sangria. He then asked Pam where her travel companion was. She answered that Calista was in her room writing cards to her family. "She probably won't join us for a drink." However, they would like to invite Harold to join them for dinner. Pam insisted that Harold would not pay and the dinner and evening would be "Dutch." This was the only condition that he could join them. Harold agreed, smiling to himself at Pam's insistence. "The restaurant we are going to has been recommended by the concierge and the maitre 'd at the hotel dining room. It is located on the Boardwalk. It specializes in seafood. I hope you like fish."
The waitress came back with Harold's mineral water and he gave her his room number. Pam couldn't quite discern Harold's not having an alcoholic drink, maybe a beer? The warm weather was conducive enough at least for a beer. Pam didn't press her thoughts verbally at this time. She thought, "I'll wait till dinner, and see if he orders wine."
Harold and Pam were still silent. The more he looked at her the impulse to touch her checks forced him to ask if Pam was originally from Kansas City, hoping the start of a conversation would repress his urge to touch her. Pam replied, "No, I am from Topeka. We moved to Kansas City after two years of marriage. His company transferred him. It was a promotion; he became a sales manager, and there they lived for 35-plus years.
"And children?" Harold asked.
"Three--two girls and a boy."
Now it was Harold's turn for some self-revelation. "I have one son, Josh, and two grandchildren, one boy, one girl. They live in Petaluma, not too far from Tiburon where I live. We see each other at least once a month and talk on the phone once a week."
Pam and Harold then eyed each other, knowing there was more to reveal, but not at this time. They then talked about the bus tour and their impressions of what they saw. They both agreed on the Gaudi architecture, the cleanliness of the city, the parks, and, generally, the ambience and cosmopolitan sense of the city.
Pam's take on the church surprised Harold. She, being a Catholic, mentioned in an off-handed way, that the site was vulgar in its size and design. How anyone would build and design a structure like this supposedly to honor Church and God was insulting to both. After all, wasn't Jesus a peasant who prayed and preached in the open fields and humble homes and modest sanctuaries? Her criticism took Harold by surprise. He didn't want to challenge her opinions and, by and large, he agreed with her.
However, he did want to express his his views regarding religious structures. Didn't man always build religious buildings to his God, gods, goddesses? Always elevating the deities above human foibles and life? The ancient Greek Pantheon, sanctuary for the gods, goddesses. The ancient Hindu's to their many gods, and the Temple of Jerusalem for the Hebrews. Of course, the Muslims have theirs at Mecca. Isn't this the way and manner of the human religion?
Harold waited for Pam to respond. She hesitated then said, "My concern is with the Catholic Church and its teachings; other religions and religious sects have no interest for me."
Harold didn't pursue this conversation further; however, her thoughts intrigued him. Perhaps later he could follow up on where her beliefs were influenced and by whom. They fell silent--Pam's firm look softened. Harold then thought it was okay to proceed on with a lighter, more benign conversation. The reservation at the restaurant was for 6:30, early by Barcelona standards, and now was the time for Pam to go to her room and do what she had to do before dinner. Harold agreed. He so much wanted to shower and rest before he engaged in this new experience.
When Harold arrived at his room he felt relieved to be on his own--to vegetate for awhile before leaving for this new adventure. Sitting in the over-stuffed chair, his thoughts visited Liz--Liz, the one who always made the itinerary, picked the hotel, knew the restaurants they were to eat at and the museums, places of interest to see. How he missed Liz doing the arrangements that he had to do himself. Almost three years had flitted away before he could bring himself to approach this effort. The loneliness he now felt, Liz had filled. Yes, their lives together had their moments of tension and strain, yet also some friendly and tender feelings.
Harold's remembrance of the past left the present time, rummaging through the past, then suddenly he realized he had time to shower and meet the ladies.
Harold entered the lobby. Pam and Calista were not there, but seconds later they were standing alongside him. The timing was perfect.
The hotel was located on a square opposite the old church and walking distance to the Boardwalk where the restaurant was, along with other eateries. The evening weather was such that the walk was pleasant and a coat wasn't necessary. The three didn't talk much on the way, which was fine with Harold. He enjoyed looking at the harbor, the ships and lights as they walked. Some minutes later they approached "La Anima Pesce" where the reservation was made by Pam.
The maitre 'd greeted them as they entered the door. Pam gave her name, then the maitre 'd escorted them to a booth that overlooked the harbor. The waiter moved lightly and quickly to the table. Pam and Calista ordered white wine; Harold ordered his usual mineral water. Pam realized that Harold's not having wine or beer revealed something--what? She reminded herself to find out.
Harold started the conversation asking how they came together. Calista replied that they were in the same women's book group and the only widows among the eight women. They hadn't been friends before, but their common situation drew them together.
Harold observed Calista as she talked. He hadn't really taken in her whole being before. She had a round face with large brown eyes and dark brown hair with streaks of gray accentuating the darkness of her hair. Her face was pleasant to look at--no sharp features. The roundness of her face matched the fullness of her body. Harold asked her how long she had been a widow. "Two years," she answered, then continued that her husband had been a policeman in Kansas City, retired five years ago. His retirement, she went on, was fraught. He had no hobbies, no interest in social events, no volunteering. He stayed home, puttered around the house, causing a strain on their relationship. He started drinking more than he usually did before, causing anxiety for her. After three years of being at home and puttering, his heart gave out--massively. He had a full-fledged police funeral and all the proper recognition from his former associates and Captain.
Her children, a boy and a girl, now man and woman, helped her through the ordeal. To be alone after so many years of marriage was devastating to her. Time diminished the emptiness that occupied her. She survived, and after months of mourning and feeling sorry for herself she managed to assert and make a life.
Pam and Harold sat silently, listening, looked at each other, reached the same purpose separately, and suggested ordering-Pam and Calista, the fish of the day, and Harold ordered the paella; the two had another glass of wine. He nursed his mineral water. The food came and they talked more of how they decided to take this cruise. There was apprehension because they did not know each other out of book group; however, after meeting for lunch and coffee they decided to give it a try.
Pam was five years a widow. She related some details of widowhood. As a real estate agent/broker, she kept busy creating a life for herself that filled her space and time and secured her financially.
Harold then knew it was his turn, and he talked about Liz. She died three years ago from ovarian cancer, a painful, sorrowing time. They had one son, Josh, and two grandchildren. This was the first trip without her. He surprised himself by venturing forth alone.
And so, the minimal outline of their lives were unfolded, knowing to one and all that much had been unsaid, which served Harold well. There was a cruise ahead for them. The other parts of life would fall when deemed the right moment.
They lingered over coffee after dinner, talking anecdotally about the food, service, decor of the restaurant. Service was attentive, food better than anticipated, decor very Spanish modern--Barcelona themes painted on the walls, no Baroque drapery nor chandelier lighting. The restaurant had a knowingly crisp-clear appearance.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Ship of Dreams by Marvin Mars. Copyright © 2016 Marvin Mars. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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