The second day brought more activity aboard the Sea Star.
Guest services was busy from the morning.
There were questions about dining reservations.
There were requests for cabin assistance.
There were passengers who needed help understanding their schedules.
I spent much of the morning reviewing the team's work.
I wanted everything handled properly.
James had trusted me with a significant responsibility.
I was determined not to let personal matters distract me.
Still, David and Lilia remained somewhere in the back of my mind.
I saw them briefly near the atrium.
Lilia was speaking to an employee.
Her expression suggested that she was unhappy.
David stood behind her.
I did not approach.
I continued walking.
A little later, I received another report.
It concerned a passenger who had requested an adjustment to a service arrangement.
The employee had followed the correct procedure, but the passenger was dissatisfied.
I reviewed the situation and approved a reasonable response.
That was how I wanted the department to operate.
People should be heard.
Employees should be treated fairly.
And no passenger should receive special privileges simply because they were louder than everyone else.
I had learned that lesson in the diner.
A customer could be angry without being right.
A person could spend a great deal of money without earning the right to disrespect someone.
I had not always understood that when I was younger.
I used to believe keeping everyone happy was part of being a good worker.
Sometimes I still caught myself trying too hard.
But I was learning.
Around lunchtime, I saw David sitting alone.
Lilia was not with him.
He had a phone in his hand.
He looked at the screen for a while, then placed it on the table.
I nearly walked toward him.
It was strange how quickly old habits returned.
I wanted to ask whether he was eating properly.
I wanted to ask whether he was sleeping well.
I wanted to ask whether he remembered the last time we had spoken.
Then I stopped.
He was not a little boy waiting for his mother to bring him lunch.
He was a grown man.
He knew how to take care of himself.
I continued down the corridor.
Later, I was called to review a guest services matter.
By the time I finished, the afternoon had become busy.
I barely had time to think about anything outside work.
That was probably a good thing.
When I finally returned to my office, I found a note from James.
He wanted to discuss the company's operations later.
I set the note beside my reports.
There were still several things I wanted to learn.
The financial side of the business required careful attention.
The staffing schedules needed regular review.
And I was still becoming familiar with the way each ship handled its passenger services.
I had come a long way in six weeks.
But I knew I had much more to learn.
That evening, I walked through the atrium again.
The lights were on.
Passengers were moving between the dining areas and the entertainment spaces.
I saw Lilia near one of the service desks.
She was speaking with an employee.
David stood beside her.
I could not hear the beginning of their conversation.
But I recognized the expression on Lilia's face.
She was impatient.
The employee remained polite.
David looked uncomfortable.
I kept walking.
I did not need to hear every word to understand the pattern.
It was the same one I had seen at home.
Lilia demanded.
David hesitated.
Then he followed her lead.
I thought about the day she had struck me.
There had been no hesitation then.
She had moved quickly because she believed I would simply accept it.
And David had remained silent because he believed there would be no consequence.
That memory still made my cheek feel warm.
I was not interested in revenge.
At least, that was what I told myself.
What I wanted was for them to understand that other people had feelings too.
But understanding cannot be forced.
I had spent years trying to teach David consideration.
Perhaps I had done too much for him.
Perhaps I had made it easy for him to expect help without thinking about what it cost the person giving it.
I could not change those years.
I could only decide what I would do now.
The next morning, I reviewed the guest services schedule.
One of the supervisors had a question about staffing.
We discussed it.
I offered a suggestion.
The supervisor agreed to try it.
Small things.
Ordinary work.
But I was proud of the way I was handling my responsibilities.
I no longer felt like a woman who had been given a chance because someone felt sorry for her.
I felt like someone who belonged there.
That afternoon, James stopped by.
He asked how things were going.
I told him the department was doing well.
He looked at the reports.
Then he asked whether I was finding the work manageable.
I told him there was a lot to learn, but I was enjoying it.
He smiled.
He reminded me that the company needed people who understood both the business and the passengers.
I thanked him.
I did not tell him how much his confidence had meant to me.
Some things were difficult to put into words.
When he left, I looked through the office window.
The water stretched beyond the ship.
I remembered the morning I had first seen him at the harbor.
I had arrived with nowhere to go.
Now I was sitting in an office, responsible for a department.
It still seemed strange.
I returned to my desk.
There was another report waiting.
David and Lilia's names appeared in the passenger information.
I read it.
Then I put it down.
I would not allow their presence to become the center of my new life.
They were part of my past.
My work was part of my future.
That distinction mattered.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: My Son Was Enjoying the Vacation He Wanted Me to Finance, While I Finally Learned to Stop Chasing His Approval
The Fifty-Thousand-Dollar Question That Revealed What My Son and His Wife Really Thought I Owed Them
Part 6 of 20
