Morning | Saturday October 15th, 2022 | Cruise Ship
Gerard Martin
He took off his dusty linen shirt and threw it on his twin size bed as he jumped into the windowless bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He grabbed a hand towel that was still damp from the night before (damn the humidity!) and wiped off the dirt and sweat that had caked on his neck. There was no time to shower. He looked at his new fitness watch, there was no time for this either. He grabbed his deodorant stick and swiped them quickly under his armpits, not noticing the white residue smearing until it had made a thick film across his chest. Fuck! He cursed. No time, no time! He leaped back into his small bedroom and pulled on his white shirt, suit trousers, belt, socks, shoes and… there’s the tie. He grabbed it and started on the path toward Deck Eleven.
Normally, getting dressed in the morning was the one part of his day that Gerard truly enjoyed. He even takes pleasure in laundering his white dress shirt the night before, lightly starching it, and ironing it until it could stand on edges. A man should be proud of how he’s dressed, his mother always said, and Gerard is nothing if not a devoted son. But due to the morning mishap which cost him previous time, Gerard did not get to put on his work suit with the typical care to detail. Rushing around as he did made him feel low-class, like a feral animal even, and he felt ashamed by it. He often felt ashamed nowadays by his meager status in life against the backdrop of made-up perfection, but somehow for the most part, being able to dress well lessened that shame. Dressed in such fine clothes brought on an illusion of control, even grandeur sometimes, especially while he was serving in his evening dress, as it is black tie. The clothes closed the gap between him and those on the other side for a little while… at least, he could convince himself of that… for a little while.
Life dealt unfortunate cards to Gerard and his mother, and he has not yet figured out how to change his hand. Gerard did not grow up aspiring to become a professional butler, and worse still, a butler on a luxury cruise ship. Born of the French father he never knew, and of the tireless, resolute, Spanish mother who raised him amongst the wealthy children whose parents employed her, Gerard had harbored a deep resentment toward those whose lives were easy. For while those people may be full of artistic talents and charm, they were devoid of any sense of practicality and responsibility, and dallied as father did. Yet now, nearly ten years after his mother’s death, Gerard was serving the same type of people his mother served - the type that he had come to loath. Well, at least the money was about to get much better.
He tapped on his fitness watch as he walked swiftly up the stairs past Deck Ten, and onto Eleven, the deck of the large Diamond Penthouse Suites that housed the wealthiest and most connected patrons of the entire ship.
Gerard normally got annoyed when one of his patrons would request an in-person wake-up call when the alarm clock on their bedside table, or even a phone call, should have sufficed. But today, he was much too preoccupied to be bothered, thinking only of the deal he had made that would free him from serving on the ship, a deal that he was about to seal in the next few moments.
The ship’s horn blew as Gerard stepped in front of the door of the Suite 11-05. He stood straight and cleared his throat a couple of times first - it was a nervous habit of his. He knocked on the door gently once, twice, three times, and waited. No answer. He then knocked with moderate force, once, twice, three times, and pressed his left ear to the door. He thought he heard someone shuffling inside, so he stood back and waited.
Just as he was about to knock for a third time, the door opened and a pretty woman emerged. The sun was in her eyes, and she squinted up at him, her slightly curled hair shone with health under the sunlight.
“Good morning Miss Faye.” Gerard smiled down at her.
The young woman’s lips curled up to a smile in an instinctive manner, one of the byproducts of her good up-bringing. She looked a bit dazed, not fully woken from the sleep that Gerard intruded upon. She said nothing, though her inquiring expression compelled him to give a reason for this disturbance.
“Eh, hello Miss Faye, sorry that I have woken you. Your husband, Mr. Eric, asked that I woke you this morning and to remind you to take your second dose of the medication.” He said as he handed her a small paper envelope. “He also wanted me to give you this.”
“Oh… Okay, thank you.” Her face lit up at the mention of her husband and she reached with both hands and took the envelope from him as if it were a precious gift. She peeked inside and then back up at Gerard, “Thank you.” she said again.
“You are most welcome, Miss Faye. Is there anything I could get for you at the moment? Perhaps some coffee? How about an espresso?” Gerard leaned forward, hoping his body language would come off as eager and not encroaching.
“Oh no, I’m okay, I’ll just use the machine in the room later. But thank you.” She smiled, seemingly unaware of his intention. Her eyes twinkled despite the sleepiness that was still in them.
Gerard took a small step forward, careful not to arouse her suspicion. I must get inside the room. “Could I at least put on the coffee machine for you? Most patrons are not accustomed to these European coffeemakers.”
“No, I’m really okay. I grew up in Spain, I’m used to these.” She smiled. Her naturally white teeth brightened her face. “But wait a moment, let me grab my wallet. Come, you can wait inside.” She said, turning to go inside, and leaving the front door open.
“Miss Faye, tipping is not necessary here. Your fare covered it already.” He called after her as he stepped into the living room of the large suite. She turned, looking back at him, smiling still. Her trusting nature reminded him of his mother, which caused Gerard to feel a pang of guilt, and so he broke eye contact.
“Yes I know, but you’ve been so helpful to us. Especially with my husband’s condition.” She called from the bedroom.
“Oh it’s been my absolute pleasure to assist with Mr. Eric.” Gerard walked around the coffee table, slipped the contents of the plastic bag onto the plush carpet, and breathed a sigh of relief, alas…
The young woman did not reply. Gerard stood waiting as she did not come back right away. After a few more minutes, he walked over to the dining area and stood by the serving tray as he would if there were a table full of dining guests. He wondered what was causing her to take so long, and then his mind wondered to what he would do with the extra cash he would soon receive, this had become his favorite past-time the last few days. No longer serving here that’s for sure.
Moments later, when the young woman did reemerge, she looked visibly distressed, her eyes were darting around the room. Does she suspect something already? Gerard thought. No, she couldn’t have…
She walked to him and handed him a green paper bill. “I hope the dollar is okay, I haven’t gone to the currency exchange.” She said, her eyes darting back and forth, clearly distracted. Gerard sensed his presence was no longer welcomed.
“Yes, of course. I really appreciate it. Are you sure that you do not wish for any food or drink?”
“I’m really okay. Thank you, Gerard.” She smiled, looking at his name tag. “I better get dressed and catch up with my husband. Have you seen him this morning?”
Gerard avoided her gaze and cleared his throat. “Um, no, I have not seen Mr. Eric today. Well then, have a good day, Miss Faye.”
He then turned and walked out quickly, closing the door behind him.
Once outside, he took long and fast strides until he turned at the end of the hallway, where he paused to catch his breath. He lowered his face into his palms; beads of sweat met his fingers and made him wonder if she had noticed them.
So, it was done; there is no turning back now, is there? Even if he changed his mind… maybe he could still retrieve the stuff he dropped inside the suite. But, what excuse could he make up to get into the suite again? It will certainly make her suspect he was somehow involved with this whole thing… Oh the hell with it. They won’t trace it back to me. I’m not the one who killed him… He was careful to slip the contents from the bag without touching anything inside. Now, as long as he disposed of the bag, he would be in the clear.
