“Yes,” I said. “I met a very kind gentleman. His name is Carl. We eat together sometimes.”
I heard the faintest pause on the line before Michael replied.
“That’s good, Dad,” he said. “It’s important that you’re not alone. But be careful, okay? On those cruises, sometimes there are people who take advantage of older passengers.”
Carl’s eyes widened, and he silently mouthed, He’s trying to isolate you.
“Don’t worry, son. I’m very careful,” I said. “How are things back home? How’s Clare?”
“Everything’s fine, Dad. Clare sends you a hug. She says she hopes you’re having a great time and that you relax.”
“How kind of her,” I said. “Michael, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Dad. Anything.”
“Why did you decide to give me this trip now?” I asked. “I mean… it was so sudden. So unexpected.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Well,” he said, “Clare and I have been talking a lot about you. We realized you seem tired, stressed. We thought you needed a break. You know… to get away from everything for a while.”
“Get away from everything,” I repeated.
“Yes, Dad. Sometimes we need to disconnect completely from our routine, don’t we?”
“I suppose,” I said. “Michael, can I confess something?”
“Sure, Dad.”
“At first I felt a little guilty about accepting such an expensive gift,” I said. “It must have cost a lot.”
“Dad, please don’t worry about that,” he said quickly. “Money isn’t a problem. Besides, it’s an investment in your well-being. That’s priceless.”
Carl scribbled something on a napkin and slid it toward me.
Ask about the return ticket.
“Michael,” I said, acting hesitant, “this might be a silly question, but… do you have a copy of my return ticket? I checked my documents and only found the one-way ticket to Miami.”
The silence that followed felt heavy, like a door slamming inside my ear.
“Michael? Are you there?”
“Yes, Dad. Sorry,” he said quickly. “Clare was saying something about the tickets. Don’t worry. The travel agency has everything under control. You just enjoy the trip. We’ll take care of the details.”
“But son, I want to be sure I can come back on time,” I insisted gently. “Could you call the agency tomorrow and confirm for me?”
“Dad,” he said, with forced patience, “please trust me. Everything is perfectly organized. You don’t have anything to worry about. Just relax. That’s the whole point of the trip.”
“Okay, son,” I answered. “I trust you completely.”
“Perfect, Dad,” he said. “I love you very much. Sweet dreams.”
“I love you too, Michael,” I said quietly. “Good night.”
When I hung up, Carl and I sat in silence for a while.
“Robert,” Carl said eventually, “that conversation was very revealing. The way he dodged the question about the return ticket, the way he insisted that you shouldn’t worry about anything… he’s clearly trying to keep you in a bubble.”
“And that line about whether I was making friends,” I added, “it felt like he was checking if I had allies.”
“Exactly,” Carl said. “Tomorrow we need to go to the ship’s office and see for ourselves what’s really been booked.”
The next morning, we woke early. We had breakfast in Carl’s cabin to avoid unnecessary exposure in crowded dining rooms, then headed straight to the passenger services office on Deck 3.
The office was cool and quiet, with light wood and chrome accents, like a small bank branch inside the ship. A young employee named Patricia greeted us with a professional smile.
“Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?” she asked.
“Good morning,” I said. “I’d like to confirm my travel itinerary. My name is Robert Sullivan, cabin 847.”
