Chương 3
The guilt came before I had even done anything.
Mom gets seasick.
Dad's knees bother him.
Denise really is claustrophobic.
Vanessa has never traveled outside the country except to resorts.
My brain began manufacturing excuses for people who had gone to bed perfectly comfortable with what they'd done to me.
At 8:01, I dialed.
A woman answered after the automated menu.
“Thank you for calling.”
Her name was Brenda.
I gave her the reservation number.
Keys clicked in the background.
“Oh,” she said pleasantly.
“This is a lovely booking.”
I looked at the family group-chat screenshot beside my coffee.
“It was supposed to be.”
Brenda paused.
Professional instinct, probably.
“What can I help you with today?”
I drew one line through the words Miller Cruise Crew on my notepad.
“I need to understand exactly what I'm allowed to change as the person who booked and paid for this reservation.”
Her tone became more careful.
“Certainly.”
For the next twelve minutes, I asked questions.
I didn't tell her my life story.
I didn't need her sympathy.
I needed facts.
By the time she finished explaining my options, my coffee was cold.
I looked at the list I had made.
Cancel specialty dining.
Cancel beverage packages.
Cancel prepaid Wi-Fi.
Cancel shore excursions.
Remove private transfers.
Refund eligible extras to original payment method.
Then came the cabins.
“What happens if I downgrade some of the staterooms?” I asked.
Brenda clicked again.
“Depending on availability, we can reprice them.”
“What's available?”
There was a pause.
“I have interior cabins on Deck Two.”
I picked up my pen.
“And my reservation?”
“The penthouse suite remains under your name.”
I hadn't planned to keep it.
Until that second, I hadn't planned to go at all.
Then I looked at the silver seashell earrings I had bought for Mom, still sitting beside the luggage tags.
Something inside me became unexpectedly quiet.
“Don't change the penthouse,” I said.
“All right.”
Brenda confirmed my identity one more time.
Then she asked which changes I wanted to authorize.
I looked at the list.
For once, I did not ask myself what would make my family happiest.
I asked what I was actually willing to pay for.
“Let's start,” I said.
Brenda worked through each item in the same calm voice she had used when she first called the booking lovely.
The specialty dining disappeared first.
Then the beverage packages.
Then the prepaid Wi-Fi.
The excursions took longer because each port had separate reservations attached to different passengers.
“Snorkeling in Nassau for four,” Brenda said.
“Cancel it.”
“Zipline in Jamaica for three.”
“Cancel.”
“Private beach cabana in Cozumel.”
“Cancel.”
She paused before the next one.
“Dolphin encounter for Susan Miller.”
My mother.
I had booked that one because she once told me, while watching some travel show in my living room, that swimming with dolphins was the kind of thing people did in movies and not in real life.
I had remembered.
Of course I had.
“Cancel it,” I said.
Brenda didn't react.
The private airport transfers went next.
I left the basic cruise fares in place.
I wasn't trying to strand anyone at the terminal.
I wasn't even sure whether I was trying to punish them.
I simply stopped paying for things I no longer wanted to give.
The distinction mattered to me, even if it would not matter to them.
When Brenda reached the cabins, she became more procedural.
She explained the available interior category, the fare adjustment, and the fact that all three replacement cabins were on Deck Two in roughly the same section of the ship.
“They are standard interior staterooms,” she said.
“No balconies?”
“No.”
“Windows?”
“No.”
I looked at the balcony cabin confirmation Mom had texted me three months earlier with six heart emojis.
“Do it.”
The keyboard clicked.
“One moment.”
I waited.
My coffee had gone completely cold, and a skin had formed over the surface.
I drank it anyway.
“All right,” Brenda said.
“Those changes are processed.”
“And the penthouse?”
“Still confirmed under your name.”
I hadn't upgraded myself because I believed I deserved better than everyone else.
The suite had originally been part accident, part sales promotion.
When I booked the cruise, the agency had offered a steep upgrade discount tied to the group reservation, and Mom insisted I take it because I had done all the planning.
“You'll need somewhere quiet after dealing with us,” she had joked.
At the time, the sentence sounded affectionate.
Now it sounded prophetic.
Brenda gave me the revised refund total.
It was several thousand dollars.
Not everything came back.
Some costs were locked.
Some fare differences converted into onboard credit under the terms of the reservation.
I didn't argue.
For once, recovering every dollar felt less important than understanding where the remaining dollars were going.
“Will the other passengers be notified?” I asked.
“They'll receive updated documents through the contact information attached to their individual profiles.”
My stomach tightened.
That was the first moment the consequences became real.
Until then, I had been clicking boxes on a screen.
Now five phones were about to light up.
“Okay,” I said.
“Anything else I can help you with?”
I almost said no.
Then I asked her to change my emergency contact.
My mother had been listed.
Brenda removed her.
When the call ended, the condo felt too quiet.
I sat at the desk and watched my phone.
Nothing happened for four minutes.
Then Vanessa called.
I let it ring.
Dad called thirty seconds later.
Mom called while Dad's call was still showing as missed.
Vanessa called again.
Then a text from Brandon appeared.
What the hell did you do?
I put the phone facedown.
It continued buzzing against the wood like a trapped insect.
At 8:23, someone started pounding on my front door.
For half a second, I actually jumped.
Then I remembered Dad lived forty minutes away.
May you like
It was my neighbor, Mr. Chen, returning a package that had been delivered to him by mistake.
“Everything okay?” he asked after hearing the vibration from my phone inside.
