Chapter 5 - A Sinking Ship of Lies
The next two days were a masterclass in watching a toxic system collapse on itself.
Without my wallet to smooth over their problems, my family turned on each other.
I knew this because they tried to corner me at every opportunity.
They couldn't get up to the VIP deck where my suite was—security scanned wristbands at the elevators—but they waited for me in the public areas.
On day three, as we docked in Nassau, Bahamas, Mom ambushed me near the gangway.
She looked exhausted. The engine room vibrations had clearly robbed her of sleep.
“Millie, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Your father’s back is killing him from those cheap mattresses. Vanessa and Brandon have been fighting non-stop because they have no money for drinks. You’ve made your point. We’re sorry.”
“Are you?” I asked, looking her dead in the eye. “Are you sorry for what you did, or are you sorry that you’re suffering the consequences?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
She didn't have an answer. Because she knew I was right.
“Mom, for thirty-three years, I bought your love. I paid your bills. I bailed out Dad’s business. I funded Vanessa’s mistakes. And the second I wanted to actually participate in the joy I bought for you, you threw me away.”
“We didn't throw you away! We just—”
“You told me I wasn't family, Mom.”
My voice cracked, just a fraction, revealing the deep, ancient wound I was finally closing. “I believed you. I’m not your family. I’m just your ATM. And the ATM is permanently out of order.”
I stepped around her and walked off the ship into the brilliant Bahamian sunshine.
Later that afternoon, I was lounging on a private beach cabana I had rented for myself. I was sipping a frozen margarita, listening to the waves crash against the white sand.
My phone beeped.
Even without the ship's Wi-Fi, they had cell service in port.
It was a text from Vanessa.
“You are a psycho. You ruined our vacation. Everyone hates you. Don't ever speak to me again.”
I took a picture of my margarita with the crystal blue ocean in the background.
I sent it to her with a simple reply.
“Enjoy the engine room.”
Then, I finally did what I should have done years ago.
May you like
I blocked her number. I blocked Dad’s number. I blocked Mom’s number.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb, closed my eyes, and let the sun warm my skin.
