“I will graduate with Honors,” said our son Holmes proudly.
“Need I remind you that you have an F?” I said.
To which he replied, “Momma, the F stands for fabulous.”
“OK, son, but I’ll bet you a cruise that you will not graduate with Honors.”
Thomas shot me a look that years of married life had taught me to interpret — the “have you lost your mind?” look.
A week later, we all gathered in the high school gym to watch the graduates receive their scholarships and awards. Holmes turned around and said, “Daddy is coming, right?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He’ll be here.”
When Thomas arrived, Holmes gave him the thumbs-up sign. Thomas looked at me and I reminded him, “Holmes has an F. We’re safe. There’ll be no cruise.”
The ceremony began. Eventually, the time arrived for the last and most important announcements — the Honor graduates. Last names beginning with the As, then Bs, and so on. Then the guidance counselor started on the Hs — Holmes Herlong — Thomas and I stared at each other in disbelief. As if he had just thrown the winning pass in the last second of the Super Bowl, Holmes jumped up and announced to the entire crowd, “I’m going on a Caribbean cruise!”
After the ceremony, and still in shock, Thomas and I practically assaulted the guidance counselor. In unison we demanded, “Re-average his grades!”
My bet with Holmes became reality a few weeks later. We boarded the Sovereign of the Seas, the Royal Caribbean ship that housed more people than Johnston, South Carolina.
Two words described our cruise — big and small. The ship was big but the rooms were small. Big people ate lots of food. Bigger people ate lots and lots of food. We had a large amount of fun with small toys — jet skis to be more specific.
One day we rented two jet skis and enjoyed a high-speed adventure. Thomas knows two speeds: stop and hold-on-and-pray. When we snow ski, he’s either at a dead stop or flying down the slope. Whether he’s on the top of the Rockies or in the beautiful, blue waters of the Caribbean, Thomas has a need for speed.
After bouncing around on the back of the jet ski, I decided it was my turn to drive. Time for Thomas to experience the joy of feeling out of control on the back of that thing.
When the jet ski stopped, I jumped into the water. All of a sudden, Thomas yelled the unthinkable, “Shark!”
“Oh, stop it!” I commanded.
“No, really!” Thomas retorted. “It’s right under you. It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen!”
I panicked. “Thomas, help me get back on the jet ski!”
Thomas just stood there and pointed. He was so taken with the size of the shark that he didn’t do one thing to help me hoist myself onto the jet ski. Thankfully, I remembered what the instructor said about mounting it: one knee on the back and then pull up on the seat. It was a miracle I remembered that bit of information with my heart pounding and my fist ready to pound Thomas. I thought, “I’ll show him! I’ll teach him a lesson and let that shark attack me. Then he’ll be sorry!” I even wondered whether he had taken out a shark policy on me before we left home. It’s amazing what stupid things you can think up.
With all my strength I maneuvered myself back onto that jet ski. “I can’t believe you just stood there without helping me.”
Again Thomas said, “Just look at the size of that creature!”
I looked into the crystal clear Caribbean water. To my relief, I saw the biggest starfish I had ever laid eyes on. “That’s a starfish!” I said to Thomas.
He looked aggravated and said, “I said ‘starfish,’ Jane!”
“You said shark!” I shot back.
“Oh,” said Thomas rather sheepishly. “I meant to say starfish. I wondered why you had such a big reaction to something as small as a starfish.”
At the time I wanted to scream. But now when I think of that cruise, I just remember having fun with my family. That large event, combined with many small experiences, has become a huge family memory.
