The Rest of the Story–Sophie

I hurry into the pantry. My heart is beating so fast that I can barely breathe.
Twenty years of being careful , of working menial jobs, and watching my back screwed up in a minute.
Was that really Lee?
There’s a  commotion  as Lee pushes her way into the pantry. Next I hear my boss Tomas cajoling her into leaving the restricted area.  Finally he resorts to threatening to call security.
In the end, she agrees to leave¾after she threatens to make a formal complaint.
I gulp. Like so many of the ship’s staff, Tomas works inhuman hours to make the passengers happy. The majority of his paycheck goes to his family in his native Philippines.
“What’s this all about, Rita?”
“How would I know?”
“That woman seems to want to see you badly. How do you know her? And why is she calling you Sophie?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“You’re still on probation. I can have you fired like that.“ Tomas snaps his fingers.
What will happen now?
“I’m assigning you to work in the dishwashing galley,” he snaps.
Dishwashing is an unpleasant job, sweaty, smelly and physically demanding. The people who work there are like lepers. They sit by themselves in the crew dining room, and they never join in when the crew has a karaoke party.
I clear plates and hoist garbage cans, and at the end of my shift, I skulk back to my cabin, stinking of sweat and soured milk. The waste I see, plates loaded with food, desserts with a bite from them, full glasses of milk and juice left to spoil, is sickening. Every day in the  hot and humid dishwashing galley, I pray that we will soon dock overnight on the island. I can’t wait for my shore leave.

***********

Sitting back on my lounge chair, I open my romance novel. I’ve given up looking for  Sophie.
We’re in port until tomorrow. Most of the other passengers have disembarked, but Ted and I have a couples’ massage scheduled. I’m treating myself to a facial and a manicure. The prices are outrageous¾but what the hell¾we deserve it.
As I settle in, a skinny woman with a head wrap scurries out from the door that  swallowed Sophie. Grabbing my bag, I hurry to the disembarkation deck just in time to see the woman  get into a rattle-trap van. Hailing  the nearest cab, I demand that he follow the van.
After a half hour the van stops in front of a candy colored  block house. I slouch down in the back seat watching as my sister hugs a young man  who rushes to greet her.
The young man turns toward me and I  stifle a gasp.
There is no mistaking the slope of his shoulders and the firm jaw. I feel like I’m going to vomit.
He looks to be about twenty–the same age as my darling Katie.
And he is almost a clone of Ted at the same age.
I hiss at the driver to step on it. But like a typical Islander, he is dozing as the meter ticks away.
The young man spots the cab and approaches, followed by Sophie.
I inch the  window down and stare at my sister,
“How could you, Sophie? How could you seduce my husband?”
Sophie places her hand on her mouth.
“Maybe you’d like to ask Ted about that.”
“You must be kidding!”
“ Lee, maybe you don’t remember this–but I was only 18 when you got married. I never had a boy friend¾remember? I was the smart one, and you were the beautiful one.“
“Ted forced himself on me.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I scream at  the driver and we  speed away spewing dust everywhere.
************
Ted and I are having breakfast on our veranda.
“You’re quiet today,”  he says.
I nod.
“So, what did you do on the island yesterday? You missed our massage–too bad, because it was awesome! Did you buy more jewelry?”
I butter another croissant. I can barely look at  him.
There is a knock on the door and I answer it. An officer is standing there. He leaves after expressing his condolences to me, the only sibling of Sophie Manley, who signed on as Rita Rivera a month earlier. Sophie was killed in an  accident while visiting her family on the island.
I am numb with grief as the ship pulls out of port. I toss my breakfast is the trash  uneaten.
***************
And in the dishwashing galley, Sophie is disgusted as still another person wastes another plate of food.

About Kathy

I grew up in Buffalo,New York the second eldest child in a family that eventually included eight children. The neighborhood was an Irish-American enclave. These two facts explain a great deal about me. I spent many years as a teacher who really thought of herself as a writer.

5 Responses to The Rest of the Story–Sophie

  1. Betty Davidson says:

    I reread this but am still trying to understand – is Sophie your sister REALLY dead and Rita back at work or???

  2. Connie says:

    Very interesting. I think you really have something here. I beg you to go back and expand. I think you have a very interesting mystery here.

  3. Eleanor T. Coan says:

    I cna hardly wait until you continue with this story, this is so much more to ask for.

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