Memories of Vodka, Clouds and A Caribbean Vacation

*hic hic*

There was a soured taste lingering on my palette, the kind which only the over consumption of cheap vodka can leave behind. Why hadn’t I brushed my teeth last night? Or maybe I had… as I rolled over the cool touch of what turned out to be an empty bottle of vodka sent a shiver down my spine. Slivers of too bright light crept in through the gaps in the blackout curtains. Bless that woman I call my partner, she left the blinds down.

“Breakfast is ready dear,” she whispered through the closed door of our cabin.

Right, I remembered that we were on holiday, with friends, where? Yes, in the Caribbean on a yacht. I felt like a slug, hazy memory of the previous day swam into my consciousness. Everyone else had gone to some island, and I stayed behind to stew in the sun, full of vodka. The days have sort of blurred into one. I grunt in response. Get up, shower, put on patterned button up short-sleeve shirt leaving it unbuttoned, check that the bottle of vodka truly is empty, go upstairs for a cooked breakfast grabbing another bottle of vodka to wash it down with. This crew have been pretty good, the vodka never seems to run out, and it is always the one I prefer in stock.

I go up to the front of the boat with bottle in hand and lay down in one of the bean bags in the sun, what a good idea it was for them to put these here. Everything is a blurred blend of blues and greens. The sky, with its pillowy soft clouds that momentarily come into focus, so nice. The green form of the island we’re anchored in front of with yellow sand beaches, separating into two and then coming back together. The blue gradation of the tropical waters getting darker and darker the further away from shore we get. This is a trip, I could get used to this…

Next thing I know I’m being poked awake by my partner. We’re at such and such island she says. And goes on about the history and stories that the Captain spieled out to them, he is good, but I know how it works, he’s done this a thousand times. A good actor though. The chef let’s us know that lunch is ready. She’s done this a thousand times too, I like her though, sometimes I think she sees through my drunken persona. She is also the reason there’s enough vodka on board. That is good. I think the food has been pretty good, that’s what my friends say anyways. I don’t really remember.

We are going out for dinner tonight, at some other island I can’t remember the name of, so I go for a stupor induced nap. I wake up sweaty, slightly irritated, and on high alert. Ever since I won the lottery, and my father’s business passed to me I feel like everyone is out to get me. I worry that my “friends” will start to take advantage of me. My guard goes up. Sometimes I hear them whispering behind my back, ‘He never used to be like this, he used to be so nice and fun to hang out with’. I do like flashing money about a bit, so maybe it is my own fault. I paid for this whole vacation, it’s the only way I know how to apologize for being an ass. I think these are my real friends on board though, that’s why I invited them. I’ve known some of them since college. That was so long ago… I want to see how things play out.

“The vodka is out,” the chef says. WHAT. The vodka cannot just be gone. The whole holiday would be ruined, I only asked for one thing. “Just kidding,” she says again and hands me another bottle. Wow, that was mean, but also funny in hindsight. I like her a little bit more. Everyday the empty bottles in my cabin disappear. I do have half a bottle hidden, for emergencies of course. No one has removed it, but I’m sure they know it is there.

Today, I think I may go in the water. I don’t like to go into the Ocean, but I am on a Caribbean holiday, so I think I must put on pretenses and show willing. The Ocean scares me a bit, there are things in there that money cannot control. At least we are close to the beach. It is apparently tradition to swim into this beach to the bars that are dotted where the shoreline meets the tree line, or so they say. I think the crews probably do this just to have a bit of free time themselves. I do not blame them. I would not take their job. Saddling up to the bar, soggy, I am pleased to note that they have my brand of vodka in stock. I buy the whole bottle with wet notes and go lay in a hammock looking up at the clouds.

My partner nudges me awake, I seem to sleep the best when I’ve been cloud-gazing, I will have to remember this.

“The boat is leaving for our night-time anchorage,” she says.

I wonder why we can’t just stay here, and when we are back on board ask the Captain. He checks his weather apps and informs me that if I want, we can indeed stay here tonight, it is my vacation after all. In a moment of lucidity, I am interested in what he does. I ask what he is looking for when choosing a night-time anchorage, and why we wouldn’t have been able to stay if he had said no. He says this bay is very exposed and if the weather is coming from a certain direction, it is very prone to ground seas, which would make the bay unsafe to stay in. He explains how the ground seas roll in and how they cause the tide to crash all the way up to where the bars are, and sometimes even further. That is all the information my mind can receive at the moment, so I switch off for the rest of his ramblings. It is cool to see that he is so interested in weather though, I admire the passion. I used to be more passionate about things before I gained my wealth. I am slightly glum and pensive for the rest of the evening. Maybe I should take up one of these passions again. I do, or did, rather like growing tomatoes and fishing on the lake.

The next day is our last, and the sails go up much to the delight of my friends. Everyone cheers and settles in for the journey back to the dock. I try to be sober-ish for breakfast and find myself enjoying a nice spread of freshly toasted bagels with any sort of topping you may want. I eat a bunch of citrus fruits to get more vitamin C into my system pre-flight. Then, on to the Bloody Mary the chef makes me. It is an extraordinarily nice one, extra strong at my request. I finish up the last of the vodka on this journey. It is a pleasantly warm and windy day, and the clouds are layered making beautiful shapes in the sky.

Three months later…

I am sitting at my desk waiting for a phone call meeting to start. I take a drag from the flask in the bottom right-hand drawer. I think of my partner, she always packs me nice lunches for days I don’t have lunch meetings. I remember how before our Caribbean vacation I was thinking she was probably just my flavour of the week, but she kindly puts up with my drunken antics. I think and hope she may like me for me, which these days I feel is a rarity. Faint memories(?) of peaceful clouds and vodka on tap float through my mind before the loud ring breaks my train of thought.