Welcome Onboard Monsieur.

 “You are very welcome onboard Mr. Clay – are you travelling alone with us today?”

“Yes, eh, unfortunately I am.”

“Juan- right here, will show you to your room.”

“That would be great – thank you.”

“You’re very welcome – enjoy your stay.”

“I do hope I will.”

The walk to Jim Clay’s room was made in silence. Jim wasn’t much for talking – he was tired from the travel of the day. A series of head gestures and hand signs bridged the language gap that existed between a forty-one year old bachelor from Ireland - and a twenty something year old slight Asian man.

Broken English, serial head bowing and white-gloved pointing demonstrated to Jim where everything was in the balcony ocean view room. The cruise liner was the fleets’ finest and his cabin was on the top floor. Jim thought this would do nicely.

The young Asian man moved anxiously as Jim pawed him a ten euro note to thank him for his troubles. He hesitated before exiting the room, as if wanting to tell him something more.

“Are you okay? Juan, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Meester Clay.”

“What is it?”                                                     

“I hope you have very good stay.”

Juan made eye contact for the first time – holding it longer than he should normally.

“Em, okay. Thanks - I’ll try.”

Jim unpacked his scant belongings and lay on the bed. This was supposed to be a trip for two.

He had a forty minute nap and woke to find a note under his door. It tabled the events for that night. Tonight was going to be the “Gala Night under the Stars.”

He was going to dress up anyway for the night. He had brought his tuxedo and dress shoes. Before the note appeared he was going to order a bottle of champagne to his room. Then order some lobster and steak. And then some fine French wine. That would be the final act.

But here he had an opportunity to command the stage once more in front of a large audience. Twenty one years of artistic drama had taught him how to hold the attention of the gathered masses. One final bow.

Jim took his time, taking the two hours to preen himself to the highest degree. His tuxedo was somewhat creased though – this would not do for a performance of such gravitas. Calling room service, Juan appeared back at his door with an iron and a smile. Jim realized he had opened the door in his underwear, and smiled back at the young man.

Almost one hour later, Jim stepped out of his room with a big grin on his face and colour in his cheeks. Maybe there was life in him after all.

Dinner with wine for all the guests at his table soon lead to sparkling conversation and witty banter. Other tables looked on in envy as they all moved onto the show with champagne in hand. Jim had slipped a twenty to Juan to reserve the finest seats in the theatre for him and the four others at his table.

After the show, Jim insisted they visit the casino for further entertainment. Jim was having such a good time that he had forgotten his earlier, dark plans. At 1am, his table friends soon began to filter away to their cabins for the night. But Jim was still full of vigour, and took up a stool at the roulette table. Two other guests sat entranced by the wheel amid the prospect of riches.

Jim watched for a few minutes, gazing into how the ball was falling. Dropping one hundred euro on the table, he took the chip colour of pink – his favourite.

Four spins of the wheel later, Jim had over three hundred chips and counting. His Mum’s age before she died, was seventy six. Numbers 7, 6 and 13 came up. Was his luck changing?

As Jim pondered his possible sudden change of fortune, a tall French man sat on a stool two away from him. Negativity oozed from his every pore. His shoulders sagged, his face grey. He was about the same age as Jim, yet his skin bore the hard edge of someone far older than he. He looked like a man that worked hard his entire life.

Jim’s sudden wealth evaporated rapidly. So did everyone else’s. Only Jim and this sullen Frenchman remained. Jim became intrigued.

“It is a bad night for you?”

“You will have to excuse me – my English is, not good. C’est la vie.”

“I understand. My life has been ‘merde’ over the past while too.”

“That is the word. La vie merde.”

“What has you so ‘merdey’?”

“I was supposed to eh, cruise with mon dame. She die two month ago from eh, canceur.”

“Oh I’m so sorry. Je suis eh, so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I was supposed to take this trip with my mother. Mon mere. She died too.”

“Oh! Je suis desole aussi! Le canceur aussi?”

“No! Jaysus no – twas her electric chair. Kinda funny when you think about it really.”

“Her chair? Chaise? Pourquoi ca?”

“She was bleedin’ electrocuted. She was going upstairs to bed in her little chairlift and the bloody water-tank burst right down on top of her through de attic. She fried right there and then until I returned home from work the following morning. Twas a terrible sight to see. She was still smouldering at eight in de morning.”

“I don’t understand – fry? She blood?”

“Sorry I went off on a tangent there, didn’t I? She was electrocuted – no blood. Brown bread in seconds’ dough, according to the doctor that called it.”

“She die quickly then?”

“Yeah – Gawd bless her. We were very close. I was her only son.”

“Electrocution is good way to go. Is quick. Canceur is no.”

“I can only imagine. Can I get you a drink?”

Jim and the Frenchman stopped playing roulette and took seats at the bar. Jim listened while the Frenchman relayed his story in a mixture of French and English. He talked of how his wife walked, talked and loved life. His family was of no help to him and her family was devastated at the loss. He didn’t know what to do. They swapped stories of their lives and work, Jim telling him of his mundane job working in Information Technology Systems. The Frenchman was as Jim expected - a manual labourer.

At 4am, they said their goodbyes and went to their own cabins. They both had rooms on the thirteenth floor. Jim didn’t even know his name. As he entered his room, he saw rose petals from the entry.

The following morning, Jim didn’t feel like breakfast. He had drunk too much, but Juan had fixed him a Thai hangover cure that worked wonders. Reading the material from the ship, he got up to date on what was happening onboard today.

The crazy feelings didn’t even cross his mind for four days. Jim was actually enjoying himself and thinking about the future. Meeting the Frenchman and hearing his life’s story made him feel better about him and feel sorry for him. They never told each other their names.

Two days before the end of the seven night cruise, Jim strangely read the back of his room keycard and onboard ID. The weather outside was raining and not conducive to tanning oneself in the lashing Mediterranean rain.  A weird but legal statement caught his eye.

“By accepting this card, you agree to be responsible for all purchases charged on your account.”

Jim checked his account. He had been living hard over five nights to the tune of E775. He told Juan, who asked him if he had the cash or credit to cover it. He did but he didn’t really want to pay it.

“There may be a way to get around it. On computer.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”        

 Forty minutes later, Jim’s bill was nearly clean. He hacked the cruise-liners’ website and left himself a bill of just E75. Juan was mightily impressed.

“Do my wages!!!”

Juan soon had four hundred more euros in his wage slip for the current month. He wanted more but Jim said that anything exorbitant would draw attention. Juan disagreed, but finally relented.

“If only you could stay one more week!”

“I know Juan. But everything good comes to an end.”

That night was the last of the Gala nights. Jim adorned his tuxedo once again and posed for photographs with the Captain of the Ship. He bumped into the Frenchman again in the casino after midnight. The casino was mad busy. The Frenchman looked even more depressed than usual. Jim caught his eye at the full roulette table. The Frenchman smiled back and got up from his prized stool at the wheel.

They sat and talked again. He was seriously depressed. He had one more week on the boat and just wanted it all to end. He wanted what he couldn’t have.

A thought crossed Jim’s mind.

They were of similar age, similar build. Their complexion was a little different though. Their gait was worlds apart. Their hairstyles were completely different.

Jim didn’t see why not. Hair and make-up could fix those problems.

He would have another week with Juan. On someone else’s account.

He just had to play this right.