Reclaim Life

Germaine hoisted her backpack and followed fellow passengers to baggage claim.

Before entering the tropical climate, she unrolled a straw hat, covered the silver locks she no longer disguised, after they forced her out, and hurried to the shuttle. She hovered at the back until everyone boarded. With most of the seats occupied, she chose the single to the right of the driver.

He muscled the rattling vehicle through the crowded street, honking at cars trying to maneuver the maze. Germaine clutched her bag and surveyed the small colorful homes. Did the residents desire escaping life like her? She yelped when the driver swerved to avoid clipping chickens congregating by the road.

They cruised through a pristine part of the country overlooking glistening blue water. Germaine relaxed her grip and wiped sweat from her neck. The bus descended, took a sharp left turn and pulled into the resort. Germaine covered her mouth. Look at that. Multiple white and peach buildings, palm trees, a fountain and lush mountains in the background.

She rushed from the bus and planted herself in the shortest line.

"Good morning. Welcome to Oceanview Suites."

Germaine handed the Receptionist a voucher. "Good morning."

The woman glimpsed the paper, banged some keys and studied the screen. "You are the first share to arrive."

Germaine removed her hat and fanned herself. "Share, what is that?"

"The other person occupying the suite."

"No! I booked a single room."

"Our records show the Oceanview suite for two."

Germaine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please book me another room.

"All suites are reserved."

"In this big place you have no rooms available?"

"That is correct. Look."

Couples, Mom's and Dad's trying to control excited children, groups of giggling young women and posturing young men spying on them filled the lobby.

"I want to speak with a Manager."

The Receptionist pointed to her brass badge.

Germaine sighed. "Can you tell me who I am sharing with?"

"Carroll."

On elevator ride to the 8^th floor, her children's warnings drowned out the Caribbean tunes.

Her daughter said, "Ma, you're going to end up sleeping on a cot in the utility room." Her eldest son told her she should spend the week looking for employment instead of acting like an impulsive nitwit. Thirty-five years and regrettably she continued paying for her wrong answer to their Father's question.

Even though their responses were negative, her youngest son saying, "I think you're courageous and I hope you have the best time of your life" gave her confidence.

At the door to 817, Germaine said a prayer. Joy flitted through her heart, gliding her down the hall, pass a full kitchen, glass top dining table, living area with sofa, two armchairs and large TV perched on a wood cabinet. She shimmied onto the balcony.

Hot air gripped her face. She leaned into it, marveling at the vast ocean and waves crashing against the beach, lined with white lounge chairs and blue umbrellas. Below a pool and Jacuzzi, occupied by a smooching couple. Several men, arms resting on the edge of the swim-up bar, flapped their feet under water. Germaine clapped. The website hadn't misled on the amenities.

Back inside, she snapped beaming photos of herself in each area. The glow faded, discovering one bedroom. Although it contained two queen beds, her head pulse hoping Carroll was not a smoker, talker or slob. She sauntered into the bathroom, inspected the large walk-in shower with multiple spray heads and a seat, before turning on the sink and splashing water on her face.

Placing her bags next to the bed by the window, Germaine lifted the sheet corners, checking the mattress for black dots.

The lock clicked. A white suit and red fedora wheeled in two metal suitcases, banging them on the door.

Germaine stomped, holding out her hands. "What are you doing in this room?"

"The room they gave me." He showed her the card key. "I'm Carroll, are you Germaine?"

"Is this a joke? Am I being pranked?"

He walked towards her, smiling. "I don't know pranked, but I am relieved you are a gal. When the young lady said my share, Germaine, checked in I thought awkward if a guy."

Carroll’s smooth voice tickled her ears.

"There is one bedroom." She sounded strained.

"I can use the pull out."

"You can't stay here! It's not right."

"How do you mean?"

His calm demeanor stirred urges she hadn't felt in decades. She focused on her annoyance, but his neat salt and pepper beard bridled her tongue.

Carroll moved closer. "Let's make a schedule so not to bother each other."

Germaine slid into the bedroom. His sweat mixed with Old Spice ignited her body. She snatched her bags and bolted. Accosting an employee, directing guests to lines in the bustling lobby.

"Excuse me, I want to speak with the person in charge."

He pointed at the brass badge on his lapel. Manager."

Germaine exhaled. "There is a man in my room."

He frowned. "Please explain."

"All I wanted was a nice vacation so I could think about what to do with my life. When I arrived, I'm told I have to share a room, but it's not a woman but a man."

He called over another employee and guided Germaine to an office. She sat in a plush chair, glancing over his shoulder at the rolling waves.

"Your room number?"

"817."

He typed and grunted. "I see the mistake. The third-party agent confused the names."

"I guessed that. How do you intend to resolve?"

He returned to the screen, his eyes shrinking with each click. "Sorry, no available rooms. There are a few with single women, but they would have to agree."

Germaine shook her head, left the office and wandered the corridor, passing an empty business center. She backed up, plopped into a creaky desk chair and started the computer. Two hours she searched hotels in the vicinity, ones with availability were out of her price range.

A woman wearing a sheer cover-up entered, reeking of chlorine and suntan lotion. She gawked and retreated. Germaine glanced at herself. Jeans, long sleeve tee shirt and sneakers weren't resort attire.

In the hall bathroom, large stall, she changed into her sundress, slathered on sunscreen, slipped on flip-flops and donned her straw hat and sunglasses.

Germaine tugged her suitcase across the sand until she located a vacant chair and umbrella close to the water. Leaning back, she shut her eyes and listened to the waves.

She sensed someone approaching. Carroll carried two glasses filled with berry colored liquid topped with fruit slices, and a curly straw.

He handed her a glass. “May I join you?”