Chapter 34: Moira

It was distinctly strange to have the door to Saralinda's room closed. I knew she was in her room, and somehow the closed door seemed like a message to me. I'd been really happy that Joanne had dragged me out to go snorkeling, and I really should have asked Saralinda, but I wanted one more precious day of just Joanne and me. And now that door was closed.

I was in my own room, with the air conditioning off and the window open, enjoying the heavy tropical air. Staying off-ship for two weeks in the cabins up the hill had been a nice change. Still, it was also nice to be back home, in my room, playing guitar and singing.

But the closed door seemed to deaden music, somehow. And I wanted someone to sing to, and Gary wasn't back. Still wasn't back. I put down my guitar and knocked on the door.

"Um – come in," I heard faintly. I slid the pocket door open, and was met by a rush of cold air that made my nipples stiffen.

"Brrr – you've got the A/C going. I need to grab a shirt," I told Saralinda, who was using her computer. I pulled a tee off the floor and put it on, went back into Saralinda's room, and shut the door behind me. Being cool wasn't a bad thing, but it certainly was different that sitting in the tropics. I went over and stood behind Saralinda, who was intently working at her computer. She didn't even look up, really, even when I bent over and kissed her.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Trying to learn JaZZBooks. I'm going through some training videos on the web."

"You're really serious about this?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.

Saralinda ignored me for a second before pushing the pause button and turning to face me.

"Yeah. This is something I can do. It's fun, in a way. You just have to be careful and focused, and in the end, everything comes out neat and tidy and balanced and okay." She grinned. "And if I'm going to be on Furthurmore for a while, I want to be doing something more than just being a professional friend of Gary's, if you know what I mean. What's that old term, 'kept woman'? I don't want to feel like I'm just one of those."

I frowned at that. Did I mind being a 'kept woman'? Was that all I was? I exhaled sharply, perhaps with twinges of resentment, and of resignation. This was not somewhere I wanted to go...

Saralinda's eyes widened in her surprise, as she perhaps recognized my thoughts in my expression.

"Oh, Moira," she exclaimed, jumping up and embracing me. "No, I didn't mean that you're a 'kept woman'. You're, like, different. Gary loves you. I mean, really loves you. You're more like his wife!"

Then why has Gary gone off for so long with Kate, I thought morosely. Kate was the one he treated like his long-suffering wife, and I was the one he treated like his mistress. Or, one of his mistresses...

My thoughts were like black, swirling, clouds for a minute. With Gary gone, everything seemed wrong to me. I was angry at Kate, but I'd be more angry if she decided to leave us, if only because of what it would do to Gary. And I was a bit miffed with Gary, mostly for ignoring the signs that Kate was losing it, but also because he'd left us for three weeks. That's my excuse for letting Saralinda's careless phrasing send me into dark angst. And my excuse for almost missing her last words.

"I'm just a nothing."

What? Waitaminute.

"You are not a nothing," I blurted out, shocked that she could say such a thing,

Her arms flew from around me, as she needed them for some expansive gesturing.

"Oh, Moira – you're a gorgeous musician with a degree in psychiatry, or psychology, or whatever. Kate's a financial wizard. Simone is an art expert. Michelle's an award-winning chef. And I just found out that Joanne, like, went to law school. Jake's a nurse and a black belt and, well, everything else he does. The crew people are all mechanics and whatever. Henri can fix anything and build anything. And Malia's going to be a really good botanist or naturalist or something. Not that she's even here.

"But what can I do? I'm not good at anything. Yet. That's why I want to do this. I thought you'd be proud of me."

I covered my mouth with my hands and took a half-step back, stunned by her vehemence.

"Oh, honey. You don't have to do all that!" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I'd made a mistake. But it was too late. Saralinda was angry now, and upset.

"Look at me, Moira. Everybody thinks I'm a baby! Jake called me 'kiddo'. You think you need to mother me. Kate thinks Gary's, like, a pedo-whateveritscalled – a child molester – for sleeping with me. And I'm twenty-four, Moira – fuck, I'll be twenty five in a week! I want to be a grown-up. And grown-ups do something. They are something. I don't do anything. And I'm not anything. I'm a nothing. And now I try to learn how to do something, figure out how to contribute around here, and you say I don't need to?"

Tears were running down her face, but she was scowling with rage. I could feel big tears welling at the corner of my own eyes.

"Oh, Saralinda," I whispered. I tried to figure out what to say, how to put this right between us.

"Honey, you don't need to do anything to 'make' me, or Gary, 'proud of you'. Parents are proud of their children. But you're not a child, and you're not my daughter. You're my friend, and I love you. And I already respect you. I respect how you've handled everything over the last couple of months. And Gary respects you too."

She was shaking now, but I thought maybe the anger was dissipating.