Sissy Room

Book 2 – Chapter 18: Glow in the Dark   Lunch was being served on the top deck, where Lady Lara seemed to have abandoned any idea that meals required a dining room. An outdoor kitchen occupied one side beneath the shade, with a counter where people could sit on stools, but everything else appeared negotiable. There were loungers, sofas, small tables and stretches of railing with spectacular views over the Adriatic. If somebody wanted to stand barefoot with a spicy chicken skewer in one hand while talking and staring at the sea, apparently that counted as lunch too. Sally was quietly amused by the reactions to her appearance. The turtle-print swim trunks had seemed completely ordinary when she'd looked at herself in the mirror, but Astrid, Caroline and Hannah each gave them a second glance when she appeared. Not disapproval—more a flicker of surprise followed by gentle amusement. The men barely seemed to notice. Leon looked once, perhaps because they were new, perhaps because Sally was new, and perhaps simply because he was a seventeen-year-old boy, and she was a girl, and therefore entitled to one discreet glance before returning his attention elsewhere. “Sally, you disappeared!” Emma complained. “We were supposed to show you your cabin,” Sophie finished. The twins had returned transformed into respectable lunchtime versions of themselves, wearing cutoff jeans and halter tops, although their synchronized hands on their hips and matching pouts rather undermined the maturity of the presentation. Sally blinked at them. “You disappeared. Ally took me to my cabin and I got changed. Just like you.” Their expressions darkened. “Rules,” Emma mumbled. “Yeah. We can't have lunch in our bathing suits. It's not proper,” Sophie added in a low, affected voice that Sally assumed was intended to reproduce one of her parents. Sally laughed. “Well, I'm here now. What's for lunch?” Neither twin answered. Their attention had suddenly shifted toward the stairs. Emma straightened importantly. “This,” she announced with considerable ceremony, “is Otto Steinberg.” Sally turned. Her face immediately lit up. “Otto!” “Sally! Welcome. You're a sight for sore eyes.” Any possibility of a formal introduction evaporated as Sally walked directly into his arms. Otto hugged her warmly, and Sally returned it with the easy familiarity of someone greeting an old friend. Behind them, Emma and Sophie looked at each other. Ally raised her eyebrows. Otto drew Sally back and held her at arm's length. His expression changed. “You are...” He frowned. Sally laughed and deliberately turned her head, presenting the haircut. “Different?” “Very.” “Like it?” Otto tilted his head one way, then the other. His face compressed thoughtfully beneath his mustache as though Sally had asked him to evaluate an acquisition. “Yes,” he finally pronounced. “Very... proper. Modern. Daring.” He gave a decisive nod. “I approve.” “Thanks.” Sally beamed. “You know Otto?” Emma whispered fiercely the moment there was an opening. Sally looked at her. “Of course.” The twins stared. Sally shrugged. “He's like... an uncle to me. Maybe a godfather.” Now Sophie looked from Sally to Otto and back again. “We didn't know. So you know him, like, really know him?” Sally frowned slightly, trying to determine what qualified as really knowing Otto Steinberg. “As much as anyone can, I guess? I've been to his home a few times. We talk.” She glanced affectionately at him. “He's cool.” Otto's eyebrows rose at the description. Emma stared at him with renewed interest. “He looks so serious.” “But he's nice,” Sophie concluded, apparently revising her entire assessment of Otto on the strength of Sally's testimony. Across the deck, Leon had been watching the exchange with mild curiosity. Sally happened to look toward him and their eyes met. He immediately turned toward the sea with an intensity suggesting something extraordinarily important had just happened on the horizon. Before Sally could decide whether that was funny, somebody beckoned vigorously from behind the outdoor kitchen. “You are Sally, yes?” She turned. The man behind the grill was wiry and deeply tanned, with grey hair, a goatee and a long ponytail that had been captured, somewhat unsuccessfully, beneath a kitchen hairnet. He held out a skewer toward her. “Here. Have food. Spicy chicken. But not too hot.” Sally needed no further encouragement. She stepped over and accepted it. “Thanks. What's your name?” “Mario.” He grinned broadly. “I am chef in this boat.” There was enough pride in the statement that Sally smiled. “Wonderful. I look forward to—” The smell reached her properly. Sally stopped talking and bit into the chicken. “Oh.” Mario watched her expectantly. “You like?” Sally nodded while she finished the mouthful. “Delicious.” She went for another bite before remembering she had been speaking. “As I was saying, I look forward to eating your food. Now even more.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Mario silently offered her a napkin. Sally looked at her hand, then at the napkin. “Thanks.” Mario bowed his head with satisfaction. “Prego.” Sally wandered away with her chicken skewer, barefoot in her ridiculous turtles, surrounded by people she'd known for twenty minutes. She was beginning to feel remarkably at home. -- As lunch drifted toward its end, Niklas Rasmussen finally tapped his glass and made a small show of calling everyone's attention. As host, he apparently considered one introduction still outstanding, although it was plainly being done for Sally's benefit. Everyone else had met Lady Lara's captain when they had boarded the previous week. “This is Captain Henri,” Niklas said, gesturing toward the man who had joined them on the sun deck. “And since Sally is the only person here who hasn't been properly introduced, Henri, this is Sally Weiss.” Captain Henri was grey-haired but fit and alert, with the weathered complexion of a man who spent considerably more time outdoors than most of the people aboard. There was no proverbial beard, no theatrical suggestion of an old sea captain; instead, he carried himself with the quiet, economical confidence Sally associated with professional pilots. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Weiss.” He offered his hand. “And welcome aboard on behalf of the captain and crew of Lady Lara. We'll do everything we can to ensure your safety and comfort while you're with us.” “Merci, Capitaine,” Sally replied with a grin and a small nod. His eyebrows lifted fractionally at her French, and he smiled before turning to address the rest of the group. “For this afternoon, the beach club will remain open and the water toys will be available until four-thirty. At that time, the deck crew will begin recovering and securing the equipment so that we can get underway.” He glanced around the group to make sure he still had everyone's attention. “We'll then cruise west toward Vis at a comfortable speed. Passage should take approximately two hours, depending on traffic and conditions.” That immediately produced interested looks from the teenagers. “We expect to anchor off Vis Town early this evening. Once we're settled, the tenders will be launched and crew will be available to take you ashore and bring you back whenever required. There are shops, cafés and restaurants along the waterfront, and the old town is very pleasant to explore on foot.” Captain Henri allowed himself a small smile. “And, thankfully, there are no cruise ships expected in the immediate vicinity this evening, so it should be relatively peaceful.” Emma was already looking at Sophie with the unmistakable expression of someone planning an expedition. Captain Henri gave the group a final nod. “Until four-thirty, however, the Adriatic is yours. Enjoy.” -- Sally was dragged toward the lower decks with very little ceremony and even less opportunity to object. “You've got to try the SEABOB,” Emma called over her shoulder, quite literally pulling Sally along by the hand. “It's a lot of fun,” Sophie assured her from the other side, as though this perfectly reasonable observation somehow justified her sister's determination to remove Sally's arm from its socket. Ally followed a few steps behind them. “Would you two wait? She's been aboard for half an hour. Don't pull her arms off!” Sally laughed, although she was caught somewhere between curiosity and mild sensory overload. She had barely finished lunch, still couldn't have found her cabin without help, and already the twins had apparently established an afternoon program on her behalf. They continued aft and downward until the yacht opened dramatically onto the sea. The beach club was already in full afternoon mode, its broad platform sitting just above the water with the Adriatic stretching brilliantly beyond it. One of the tenders was alongside, crew were moving equipment between the tender garage and the water, and several deckhands remained discreetly positioned around the bathing platform, close enough to intervene without making anyone feel supervised. Emma and Sophie immediately pointed toward two streamlined machines floating beside the platform. “SEABOBs,” Emma announced. Sally stared at them. “Okay.” “They're sort of like little submarines,” Emma explained enthusiastically. “You hold onto them and they pull you wherever you steer. You can go underwater too.” “But you have to remember to come back up and breathe,” Sophie added. Sally looked at her. “That's useful information.” Neither twin appeared particularly interested in discussing the matter further. They stripped down to their swimsuits with the efficiency of people who had apparently been waiting all through lunch to do precisely this, left their clothes in a heap and grabbed goggles. “Look,” Emma said. She lowered herself from the swim platform into the water, fitted her goggles and took hold of the SEABOB. A moment later she was moving away from the yacht with startling speed. Sophie splashed in after her, took the second machine and disappeared after her sister. Sally blinked. “Wow.” Ally chuckled beside her. “I know. They act faster than your brain can process them.” Sally watched Emma dive beneath the surface and reappear several yards away. “Yeah. They've got... energy.” “You could say that.” Ally sat on the edge of the swim platform and lowered her feet into the water. “Cooped up in Copenhagen, stiff school uniforms all year, and then they come up for air in the summer.” Sally raised an eyebrow and sat beside her. “Sounds terrible.” “It really isn't.” Ally smiled. “They're happy. They just have a tightly driven life. School, languages, sports, family expectations. No different from you and me, really. Their older brother Frederik set the bar pretty high before they got there. He stayed in Copenhagen – too busy for holiday.” Sally watched the twins streak beneath the surface again, their pale shapes momentarily visible through the startlingly clear water. “So I guess I'll have to set mine lower,” she said ruefully, “so my little brother doesn't suffer too much.” Ally laughed. “Oskar has a few years before he needs to worry about your performance reviews.” “Good. I'll warn him.” For a little while they simply sat there with their feet in the Adriatic, watching Emma and Sophie surface, shout something unintelligible at each other and disappear again. Sally was beginning to understand what Ally meant. The twins didn't seem wild so much as gloriously released. She looked down at her T-shirt and turtle trunks. “I'd better get my bathing suit on.” Sally glanced toward the tender alongside. “I assume my bags have arrived.” “Looks like it.” Sally stood, then hesitated and glanced toward the water, where the twins had vanished again. Ally caught the look. “Leave them.” Sally frowned. “Just leave them?” Ally nodded toward the watchful deck crew and then toward the two SEABOBs, which had resurfaced farther out. “They're in another world.” Sally watched Emma's blond head appear above the water, followed almost immediately by Sophie's. Fair enough. “Okay. Bikini.” Ally stood and followed her back inside. -- This time Ally seemed considerably more comfortable following Sally into the cabin. Whatever boundary had existed twenty minutes earlier had apparently disappeared somewhere between lunch and the beach club. A stewardess was already inside with Sally's two large suitcases, which had arrived by tender while they had been upstairs. She was dark-skinned, athletic-looking, with short curly hair, and had already lifted one case onto the luggage bench. “Miss Weiss.” She smiled. “My name is Delia. I'll be looking after your cabin while you're aboard. If you need anything at all, please let me know.” Sally faltered slightly. “Hi. Um... I can take care of things.” She frowned at the suitcases, realizing Delia was apparently preparing to unpack them. Delia nodded pleasantly, entirely untroubled by the resistance. “Of course. But it's usually much easier if you let us take care of the unpacking. Storage can be a little tricky until you know the cabin—what goes in the wardrobe, what fits in the drawers, what is better stored away. We know all the hiding places.” Sally smiled despite herself, but then froze. Diapers. There was an entire package in one of those suitcases. For perhaps two seconds her instinct was immediate and absolute: No. I'll unpack. Then the more rational part of her mind caught up. She remembered the Flying Fox. Delia was a professional yacht stewardess. She unpacked people's suitcases for a living. Prescriptions, underwear, toiletries, intimate things, embarrassing things, probably things considerably more interesting than a package of diapers. Her job depended on seeing them without really seeing them. Sally pressed her lips together and made the decision. “Okay. Just let me grab my bathing suit first. Once we're out of your way, you can unpack everything. Okay?” Delia's smile broadened. “Of course.” Sally deliberately opened the suitcase that did not contain the diapers and rummaged through the new swimwear she'd bought in Miami. She selected one of the sportier bikinis almost immediately. It wasn't the prettiest one she'd bought, but it was secure, streamlined and free of anything that might attempt to part company with her once Emma and Sophie introduced her to whatever aquatic insanity came next. “I'll be right back.” She disappeared into the ensuite and closed the door. The bikini fit exactly as she'd hoped, snug enough to stay where it belonged without feeling restrictive. Sally turned once in front of the mirror and nodded approvingly. This was definitely the one for SEABOBs, Jet Skis, jumping off things and any other activity the twins described as fun with suspicious enthusiasm. She pulled her T-shirt back on over it. Bare legs, bare feet, shirt hanging loosely over the bikini bottoms. Her turtle trunks could wait until later. Then her thoughts returned to the suitcase outside. Delia was going to find the diapers. Sally stared at herself in the mirror. There was no sensible reason to care. Delia would probably put them neatly into a cupboard in the ensuite and never mention them. More importantly, if Sally behaved as though they were some terrible secret, she would only make herself miserable for the entire week. This was supposed to be a holiday, not an elaborate exercise in hiding things from the housekeeping staff. Delia would be cool if Sally was cool. She tousled her hair with both hands. The short layers settled themselves almost immediately. “Time to boogie,” she informed her reflection. Sally opened the door. Ally was leaning casually beside the cabin entrance, waiting for her. Sally tilted her head. “Ready.” Ally pushed herself upright. “Finally.” “It was two minutes.” “The twins operate on a different timescale.” Sally laughed and headed for the door. “Bye, Delia. And thanks!” “My pleasure, Miss Weiss. Have fun.” Sally followed Ally into the passageway without looking back at the suitcases. Delia could handle the turtles, the dresses, the bikinis, the Skittles—and the diapers. Sally had SEABOBs to conquer. -- Sally felt strangely liberated. There was something wonderful about walking through such an impossibly elegant yacht with bare legs and bare feet, her T-shirt hanging loosely over her bikini, without needing to look polished or particularly wealthy or anything else at all. She crossed the interior spaces with Ally, passed the pool and continued down toward the beach club, increasingly aware that for the next week the normal rules of clothing had been reduced to something wonderfully simple: cover up when appropriate, uncover when there was water, and otherwise don't worry about it. By the time they reached the swim platform, the twins were still in full SEABOB frenzy. One of them—Emma, Sally thought, although she was no longer prepared to stake her reputation on it—surfaced close to the platform and pushed her goggles onto her forehead, sweeping wet blond hair away from her face. “You have to try this, Sally! Did you see how we were diving in and out?” “But you have to remember to breathe!” the other twin called, buzzing up alongside her sister. “Yes, you've mentioned that,” Sally laughed. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it beside Ally, already stepping toward the edge, when one of the deckhands came forward and reached for the first SEABOB. “I'm afraid these need to go on charge now. There's practically nothing left in the batteries.” Sally stopped with one foot almost in the water. “Oh.” Beside her, Ally developed a knowing smirk. The twins looked at each other. Then at the SEABOBs. Then at Sally. Their expressions collapsed. “Oh, Sally, I'm sorry,” Emma said immediately. “We were only going to show you, but then you went away and—” Sally raised a hand. “It's okay. I went to get changed. You had fun. That's okay.” That did very little to relieve them. “We should have waited,” Emma complained miserably as she surrendered her SEABOB to the deckhand. “That was so rude of us,” Sophie concluded, looking genuinely stricken. Sally stared at them, amused by the scale of their remorse. “Guys, seriously. It's a battery. There'll be another day.” “At least you're sorry,” Ally offered from behind her, apparently deciding that absolution should not come too easily. Both twins nodded solemnly. Sally looked past them instead. The Adriatic was brilliant beneath the afternoon sun, impossibly clear near the yacht, shifting from turquoise around the swim platform into deeper blue farther out. SEABOB or no SEABOB, there was an entire sea waiting for her. “Well, I'm going in.” She looked at the twins. “Coming?” That restored them instantly. Ally, however, had already pulled out her phone. “I'll take pictures first.” Sally narrowed her eyes. “Coward!” She took two quick steps and launched herself from the platform, diving headfirst into the Adriatic. The water swallowed her in a burst of blue. -- The afternoon continued in a succession of dives from the swim platform, increasingly elaborate challenges from the twins, and a prolonged campaign to coax Ally out from behind her camera and into the water. Sally eventually succeeded by threatening to throw her phone into a towel locker and drag her in personally. By the time the four girls finally abandoned the beach club and migrated back up to the pool deck, Sally had lost all awareness of how long she'd been aboard. Her apprehension from that morning seemed almost ridiculous now. Even Leon joined them after a while, and the afternoon settled into the wonderfully aimless rhythm of teenagers with nowhere they needed to be. They moved between the pool and the loungers, talked about nothing and everything, disappeared into the water whenever conversation became too sedentary, then emerged hungry again. The crew seemed remarkably adept at anticipating this cycle. Plates appeared almost invisibly: fruit, little sandwiches, chips, pastries, bowls of nuts and cold drinks, all positioned strategically enough to feed four growing teenagers without ever making the afternoon feel organized. “I swear, I live for this,” Ally sighed, dropping heavily onto a lounger with an iced Coke in her hand. “All year it's study, study, study. Boston is frozen, and this is basically what's on my mind.” “Sounds tragic.” Sally sat beside her and rubbed a towel vigorously over her hair. She stopped after a few seconds, once again appreciating how little hair there now was to dry. Ally shook her head. “It really isn't,” she admitted. “I like school. I like Boston. But having visions of sunshine helps.” Leon had stretched himself lazily across a lounger opposite them, one arm behind his head. “Cold weather is good for inspiration,” he offered. Ally looked at him. “That's a very German thing to say.” Leon smiled lazily. “Maybe. But I don't mind this. At all.” Sally looked up with interest. “What do you mean about inspiration?” Leon sat up a little, suddenly aware that his casual remark had attracted an audience. “A lot of great art, literature, philosophy came from cold-weather places. Not all of it, obviously,” he added quickly. “But cold makes you go inside. It slows things down. You sit somewhere warm and think. Nothing like a freezing day and a fireplace.” He shrugged, almost shy now that he'd actually explained himself. Sally tilted her head and studied him for a moment. That was a more interesting answer than she'd expected. “Maybe.” She thought about Zürich in winter, about drawing when darkness came early and the windows became black mirrors. “Actually, yes. Cold weather does that to me too.” She smiled. “When it's warm, I just want to be outside.” “Exactly.” Emma and Sophie arrived before the thought could develop further and flopped down beside Sally, still damp from another trip through the pool. Emma looked at her. “Do you do art?” Sophie immediately expanded the question. “Like, do you play an instrument?” “No instrument.” Sally shook her head. “I draw. Sketching mostly. Sort of.” “Sort of?” Sally shrugged. “I like it.” She became aware of Ally looking toward her legs. It wasn't malicious. Probably not even deliberate. But Sally knew exactly what had caught her attention. Against Sally's wet skin, the scars across her calves were particularly visible in the bright afternoon sun. Almost automatically, Sally slid her palm over one leg. Ally immediately lowered her eyes. “Sorry.” Sally looked at her for a moment, then chuckled. “It's okay. They glow in the dark.” Four faces turned toward her. Leon actually blinked. “They do?” Sally held the expression as long as she could. Then she grinned. “Nope.” She broke into laughter. Emma's mouth dropped open. Sophie looked genuinely betrayed, while Ally stared at Sally in disbelief before beginning to laugh herself. “That was mean!” Emma protested. “You believed me!” “For a second!” “So did I,” Sophie complained. Leon considered the matter with considerably greater seriousness. “It was a good joke.” “Thank you, Leon.” He gave her a thin smile, and Sally looked down at her legs again. This time she didn't cover them. “I guess I'm glad I can joke about it,” she said more quietly. “Now, anyway.” The laughter faded naturally. Nobody asked what had happened. They all knew enough, and Sally was grateful that none of them tried to turn the moment into something profound. For several seconds there was only the faint slap of water against the yacht and the distant activity of the deck crew below. Emma finally broke the silence. “Want to go in the pool again?” Sally looked toward the water. “I think I've swallowed enough Adriatic and pool water for one afternoon.” “That's not a no.” “It's a no.” Sally stretched her legs along the lounger and reached for her Coke. “I think I'm just going to sit here and enjoy the cruise.” The twins exchanged disappointed looks, but their disappointment had remarkably little staying power. “Come on,” Emma told Sophie. They were back in the pool moments later. Sally settled deeper into the lounger and sipped her Coke. Below, the last of the water toys had been recovered, the swim platform was being cleared, and the deck crew were securing the beach club for departure. There was a subtle change taking place aboard Lady Lara: doors being checked, equipment disappearing, crew moving with greater purpose. The yacht was preparing to become a ship again rather than a floating playground. Leon remained stretched out opposite her. Ally had reclaimed her camera, although for once she wasn't pointing it at anybody. Somewhere beneath them, engines were coming to life. Sally looked out across the Adriatic. Vis was next. -- The twins remained in the pool. Sally could still hear them behind her as she and Ally slipped away, Emma protesting loudly in Danish about something Sophie had done and Sophie protesting even louder that she hadn't done it. Neither seemed remotely interested in the fact that Lady Lara was now underway. Sally and Ally stopped only long enough to pull shorts over their bikinis. Ally stepped into a pair of denim cutoffs while Sally reached automatically for her bright turtle-print trunks, still slightly damp from earlier. Shirts seemed unnecessary. The sun was warm without being oppressive now, and a light breeze had begun moving across the decks as the yacht gathered speed. “Front?” Ally suggested. Sally nodded. They made their way forward until they reached the broad open lounging area above the bow, where the sensation of movement was entirely different. There was nothing ahead of them but sea. Lady Lara moved steadily through the Adriatic, her bow dividing the deep blue water with an effortless certainty Sally found almost hypnotic. The breeze strengthened enough to lift her short hair away from her face, but for once she didn't bother fixing it. “This,” Ally sighed, “is better.” They spread their towels across the warm deck and stretched out side by side, propped slightly on their elbows. Sally crossed her bare ankles and looked ahead. From here there was no wake to watch, only water coming endlessly toward them and disappearing beneath the bow, sunlight scattering across its surface in thousands of white flashes. Far off, an island sat hazy against the horizon, while a sailboat passed at such a distance that it seemed motionless. For several minutes neither girl spoke. It wasn't an awkward silence. Sally was beginning to discover that Ally didn't need to fill every empty space with conversation, and after Emma and Sophie's relentless energy, that quality felt particularly luxurious. Eventually Sally lowered herself flat onto the towel and folded her hands behind her head. “I could get used to this.” Ally smiled without looking at her. “That's the problem.” Sally turned her head. “What?” “You get used to it. Then September comes.” Sally chuckled and looked back toward the sky. “Don't ruin July.” “Sorry.” Another comfortable silence settled between them. Somewhere far behind, the twins shrieked from the pool, distant enough now to be funny rather than disruptive. “You're their hero, you know,” Ally said eventually. “What?” Sally turned her head sharply. “The twins. They practically worship you.” Ally pressed her lips together, apparently trying to decide how to explain something Sally had never considered. “They were supposed to be aboard Flying Fox last year, but Sophie got appendicitis right before the trip. They were crushed.” “I remember somebody from Denmark was supposed to come,” Sally murmured. “That was them. The Rasmussens have known your father forever. Most of our families have, actually.” Ally glanced toward Sally. “That's why there was so much interest when your father reconnected with you.” Sally gave her a sideways look. “I was already famous?” “In our little world? Pretty much.” Sally snorted softly. Ally's expression became more serious. “I was with them in Copenhagen the day you crashed. When it came on the news.” Sally's amusement disappeared. “Oh.” “Yeah.” Ally took a slow breath. “There was a lot of drama. They cried. A lot.” She paused. “I did too.” Sally said nothing. This was a version of the accident she had never seen. She knew what it had been like inside the airplane, knew fragments of what had happened in the hospital afterward, knew what her parents and Theresa had lived through. But Copenhagen had never existed in her understanding of that day. “We thought we'd lost you before we'd even met you,” Ally continued. “We sent flowers. A card. Chocolates. I stayed with them for another couple of days, and we were checking our phones constantly. Otto kept our parents updated whenever he knew something.” She smiled faintly. “I think we started breathing normally again about two days later.” Sally pushed herself onto her elbows and drew one knee upward. “That sounds... surreal. Hearing about it like this. Like the behind-the-scenes version.” Ally nodded. “The first news scenes were horrible. You looked like a broken doll when they carried you out on the stretcher.” Sally looked toward the horizon. “I was,” she murmured. Ally didn't rush to soften it. For a moment they simply listened to the sea rushing beneath them. “So that's why everyone was anxious to meet you,” Ally said eventually. “Not just the twins. Me too.” Sally turned back toward her, a little smile returning. “And Leon?” Ally laughed softly. “Leon pretends he doesn't care.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “But he does.” “He's an introvert.” “He is. But he's cool.” Sally considered that sufficiently comprehensive. “Cool is fine.” She lowered herself onto the towel again. For a while Sally kept her eyes open, watching the cloudless blue above her, but eventually she closed them. She could feel the sun warming her skin, the breeze moving gently across her stomach, the faint vibration of Lady Lara beneath the towel and the steady rush of water below. Ally was beside her, close enough for companionship without requiring anything from her. Somewhere aft, Emma and Sophie were still making enough noise to establish that neither had drowned. Sally thought briefly about what Ally had told her. Somewhere in Copenhagen, while Sally had been unconscious and broken and surrounded by people fighting to keep her alive, three girls she'd never met had been crying over her and checking their phones for news. Now two of them were screaming in a swimming pool behind her, and the third was lying beside her in the Croatian sun. Life could be very strange. She opened her eyes and looked at the horizon. There was nothing she needed to do, nobody she needed to impress and nowhere she needed to get herself. Vis would come to them. For now, Sally was perfectly content to lie still and let the Adriatic go by. -- For a while, Sally and Ally remained where they were as Lady Lara cruised steadily westward. Other yachts appeared and disappeared across the Adriatic, most of them considerably smaller: sleek white motor yachts, sailing yachts heeled gently under canvas, the occasional traditional-looking charter boat making its unhurried way between the islands. From the foredeck of Lady Lara, Sally was beginning to appreciate how busy these waters really were without ever feeling crowded. One vessel in particular caught her eye. Sally pushed herself onto her elbows and squinted across the water. “Now, that's different.” The yacht was long and narrow, but there was nothing modern about her. She had a dark hull, tall cream-colored superstructure, one traditional funnel and the elegant proportions of something Sally imagined belonging in a black-and-white photograph. She looked almost impossibly delicate compared with the towering contemporary yachts around her. Ally followed her gaze. “Pretty.” “Very.” “She looks like she has stories.” Ally nodded. “Lots of them.” Eventually the coastline of Vis began resolving itself ahead. Sally sat up as hills became slopes, slopes became buildings, and the pale waterfront of Vis Town gradually emerged inside its protected bay. Lady Lara slowed almost imperceptibly, the breeze across the foredeck weakening as her speed fell. The great yacht eased into her anchorage off the coast with none of the drama of Sally's helicopter arrival. Crew moved purposefully below, and presently came the unmistakable mechanical rumble of the ground tackle being deployed. Sally drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. They had arrived. Vis was waiting. -- “Sally! Ally!” The twins' voices carried across the foredeck before either girl appeared. “Come on! We're going ashore!” Ally opened one eye. “There goes the peace.” Sally laughed and pushed herself upright. She had almost drifted to sleep in the warmth, and for a moment she needed to remember where she was. Lady Lara was motionless now, settled comfortably at anchor off Vis, the breeze carrying little more than the sounds of water against the hull and distant boats moving across the bay. Emma appeared first, Sophie immediately behind her. “Captain says the tender is going soon,” Emma announced. “So we have to get dressed,” Sophie added. “Apparently clothes are required in Vis,” Emma said regretfully. Sally looked down at her bikini and turtle trunks. “Terrible place.” “You have ten minutes.” “Who put you in charge?” “Nobody. Come on!” The twins disappeared almost as quickly as they had arrived, already calling something else over their shoulders. Sally stood and collected her towel, but before following Ally aft, her eyes wandered across the anchorage one last time. The old yacht was there. She had anchored not far away, her dark hull and graceful, old-fashioned lines standing apart from the brilliant white modern yachts scattered around the bay. At rest she looked even more beautiful than she had underway, almost like something preserved from another age and quietly dropped into the twenty-first century. Against the rugged green-brown slopes of Vis, she looked completely at home. Sally lingered for another few seconds. “She really is gorgeous,” she murmured. Then Emma shouted her name again from somewhere behind them. Sally smiled, turned away from the old yacht and followed Ally inside. Vis awaited. -- “It’s pleasant,” Sally observed, looking along the waterfront. “I was expecting a tourist town.” Astrid Rasmussen, Caroline Mercer and Hannah Keller had, by mutual and apparently unspoken agreement, commandeered Sally’s attention after they stepped ashore, and the four of them were now strolling together along the waterfront. Sally didn’t mind. After an afternoon dominated by teenagers, swimming and general chaos, there was something relaxing about falling into step with the three women and listening to their conversation drift from one subject to another. A few yards behind them, Emma and Sophie were engaged in an increasingly animated discussion in Danish. “English,” Astrid said without turning around. The command was simple, calm and obviously familiar. There was a brief silence behind them before the twins obediently changed languages. “We want gelato,” Emma announced, looking around as though Vis had somehow failed in its obligations by not placing a gelateria directly in front of the tender landing. “Now,” Sophie added. Ally was already scanning her phone. “There’s one over there, on the other side of the bay. It’s not far.” “May we go?” Emma looked expectantly at her mother. “Only if Ally goes with you.” Astrid glanced toward Sally and slipped an affectionate hand briefly around her arm. “We’re talking with Sally now. We want to walk over toward the old Greek and Roman ruins.” The twins immediately looked at Sally, their expressions suggesting that gelato ought to outweigh two thousand years of Mediterranean history. Sally laughed. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you later. I actually want to see the ruins.” That was true. As much as Sally liked gelato, she found herself wanting some grown-up time. She also sensed that Astrid, Caroline and Hannah were genuinely curious about her, and unlike the attention she sometimes received from strangers, theirs felt warm rather than intrusive. These were women who had known her father for years, had apparently followed pieces of her life before she'd even known they existed, and now wanted the chance to know her rather than Sally Weiss from the news. The twins accepted defeat remarkably easily. “We’ll buy you a gelato,” Emma promised Ally. “The biggest one,” Sophie added. Ally slipped her phone into her pocket. “Deal.” The teenagers peeled away, and the four women continued at an easy pace along the broad waterfront promenade. Vis was nothing like the polished Mediterranean resort Sally had half expected. The pale limestone buildings were handsome without looking staged, their shutters, balconies and occasional patches of weathering giving the town the comfortable appearance of somewhere people actually lived. Restaurants and cafés spilled toward the water, visitors wandered between locals, small boats came and went, but the place had somehow escaped the sensation of existing entirely for tourists. Sally liked that. The harbor itself seemed to contain every scale of boat except the truly enormous. Fishing boats and small pleasure craft occupied the waterfront, sailing yachts and motor yachts lay along the quays, while the larger vessels remained farther out in the bay. Sally glanced across the water and easily picked out Lady Lara, sitting brilliantly white against the deeper blue, looking almost absurdly large now that she had the town for scale. Her eyes moved slightly farther. The old yacht was there too. A deckhand had told her the name before they came ashore—Madiz. Sally still knew almost nothing about her except that she was very old, but she recognized the dark hull and graceful century-old profile immediately. Anchored near the sleek modern yachts, she looked less like an antique than Sally would have expected. If anything, the contrast made her more elegant. Sally slowed for half a step to admire her. Hannah noticed. “Which one are you looking at?” “The old one. Madiz.” Sally smiled and pointed discreetly across the bay. “I saw her while we were cruising in. She’s beautiful.” Astrid followed her gaze. “You like boats?” “I think I’m starting to.” Sally looked back toward Lady Lara, then toward the old yacht beside her. “Cars first, though.” Caroline laughed. “Your father did warn us.” -- The ancient Greek town of Issa was, at first glance, not much more than a collection of stone foundations lying exposed beneath the afternoon sun. Low walls traced the outlines of buildings that had disappeared centuries ago, with patches of dry grass growing between them and the sea never far away. And yet Sally found herself fascinated. There really wasn't all that much to see. No towering columns, no intact temples, nothing remotely like the dramatic ruins she'd seen in photographs of Athens or Rome. But perhaps that was what made it feel real. People had lived here more than two thousand years ago, and the stones beneath her feet were still there. For Sally, who remained very much an American at heart, there was something almost incomprehensible about how ordinary that could seem in Europe. Thousands of years of history could simply sit beside a modern town, exposed to the weather and the summer sun, while people walked their dogs and went for gelato a few streets away. The four of them wandered slowly among the remains before following the path back toward town. There was no hurry. The heat had softened as the afternoon wore on, and what little breeze came from the water made the walk pleasant. Sally was enjoying herself more than she'd expected, listening as the women chatted and occasionally joining in. “Your mother keeps us updated about Oskar,” Astrid said eventually. “He's growing beautifully.” “He is.” Sally smiled immediately. “I swear he grows an inch every week.” “You probably miss him,” Caroline said sympathetically. “I do. But being busy helps, I guess.” Sally looked down at the path for a moment, smiling to herself. “This morning I woke up and he was staring at me. On my bed. My mom put him there when she came to wake me up.” Hannah's face brightened. “That sounds like fun. Being sixteen and having a newborn brother.” Sally beamed despite the slight shyness that came whenever adults seemed genuinely interested in hearing about her life. “It's cool. I had a few months to get ready for it mentally.” “It must have come as quite a shock at first,” Astrid said. “When I found out? Yeah.” Sally gave a small laugh. “But that lasted, like, five minutes. Then it was as if I'd won the lottery or something. I couldn't believe it.” “After everything that had happened,” Hannah murmured, “it must have been wonderful to have something so beautiful happen.” The other women nodded. “It was.” Sally shrugged lightly. “I thought it was already good enough with my parents getting married. But Oskar...” She smiled. “Oskar came out of left field.” Astrid and Hannah both frowned slightly. Caroline laughed. “Spoken like a true American.” She turned toward the other two women. “Left field. It means completely unexpected.” “Oh.” Astrid smiled. Hannah nodded in understanding. “Then yes. Very much out of left field.” Sally laughed. By the time they were walking back into the village, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting warmer light across the pale stone buildings and lengthening the shadows along the waterfront. The temperature was becoming almost perfect. Restaurants were beginning to prepare for the evening, tables filling gradually along the promenade, while boats moved lazily across the harbor. Caroline walked in silence for a few moments before glancing toward Sally. “Your father was uneasy about the wedding, you know.” Sally looked at her. “Not because he didn't want to marry your mother,” Caroline added quickly. “Quite the opposite. But after everything that had happened, he was torn about what to do. A proper wedding suddenly seemed daunting.” Sally listened with interest. Her parents had told her pieces of this, but she had never really heard the story from the perspective of their friends. “We told him to keep it small,” Caroline continued. “Private. Just the people who were close, the people who were easy. No enormous event, no society circus, no pressure. Get married, enjoy it, and we'd all have a proper celebration later.” Hannah's eyes narrowed slightly as she saw where this was going. “But later never came,” Caroline said, “because Oskar came.” Sally chuckled. “So you still owe them a party.” “Oh yes,” Astrid said immediately. She looked at Hannah and Caroline. “Oh yes,” they agreed together. -- Peškarija 1911 suited Vis. Sally decided that almost immediately. The restaurant occupied what had once been the town fish market, right on the waterfront, and although somebody had obviously spent considerable money making it beautiful, they hadn't polished the history out of it. Old stone remained old stone, timber rose overhead, and the great stone counter that had once held the fishermen's catch now ran through the room as part of the dining space. The whole place felt stylish without becoming precious. Their group settled around the long table in a loose arrangement that apparently pleased everyone except Emma and Sophie, who discovered too late that Sally had somehow ended up between Otto and Leon. “This is unfair,” Emma informed nobody in particular. “You had her all afternoon,” Caroline pointed out. “We did not.” “You abandoned her for gelato,” Astrid reminded them. “That was different.” Sally laughed and unfolded her napkin across her lap. Across the table, Ally already had her phone in her hand, although she was making a commendable effort to pretend she didn't. “I can see you,” Sally told her. Ally lowered the phone by perhaps an inch. “I'm not doing anything.” “You're taking pictures.” “Documenting.” “Same thing.” “No. Photography is art.” Sally narrowed her eyes at her, then smiled despite herself. Ally took the picture. Dinner developed slowly from there. Nobody seemed interested in ordering one enormous plate and guarding it. Instead, dishes began arriving to be shared around the table: marinated sardines, smoked bonito, octopus, fish tartare and a beautiful carpaccio dressed with citrus, capers and olive oil. Later came warm anchovies and prawns, followed by a few larger seafood dishes that made their way around the table a spoonful at a time.  Sally tried almost everything. The flavors were clean and sharp—fish, lemon, herbs, salt, olive oil—and whenever a plate emptied there seemed to be a pleasant interval before somebody quietly placed another one down. The adults had local white wine. Sparkling water and mocktails constantly among everyone else. It was somewhere between the smoked fish and the next round of dishes that Otto turned slightly toward Sally. “So,” he said, “what happens after Croatia?” Sally finished what she was chewing before answering. “Tuscany.” Otto's eyebrows drew together. “Tuscany?” “With Erika.” His expression remained doubtful for another second. “Just us,” Sally added. “Ah.” She watched the calculation taking place behind his eyes and grinned. “You don't approve?” “I was deciding whether I approved.” “And?” Otto reached for his wine. “I do.” “How generous.” “You deserve it.” That caught her slightly off guard. Sally's smile softened. “Thanks.” Leon, on her other side, had been listening while pretending to devote considerable attention to his food. Across the table, Hannah smiled faintly. “And what are you two doing in Tuscany?” Otto continued. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “That is basically the plan.” Sally counted lazily on her fingers. “Eat. Sleep. Swim. Read. Walk around. Look at things. Maybe draw. Erika wants somewhere quiet.” “And you?” “I think quiet sounds pretty good.” Otto nodded his approval. “Excellent. A sensible holiday.” Sally gave him an amused look. “We're sixteen.” “All the more reason.” That drew a few laughs from around the table, and another platter arrived, interrupting the conversation while everybody negotiated portions. Leon reached for the last piece at precisely the same moment Sophie did and immediately withdrew his hand. Sophie took it without remorse. “Thank you,” she said. Leon stared at the empty plate. “I did not say you could have it.” “You moved your hand.” “I was being polite.” “That was your mistake.” Even Matthias laughed at that. Otto waited until the table had settled again before returning to Sally. “And after Tuscany?” Sally glanced at him. “You're very interested in my calendar.” “I am making conversation.” “You're interrogating me.” “Gently.” Sally considered this and conceded with a little shrug. “Miami.” “Again?” “Yeah. I'll probably spend some more time there before school.” “Probably?” Sally took a sip of sparkling water. “Well, Hartford first.” Otto caught that immediately. “Hartford?” There was something about the way he repeated it that made Sally realize she had walked directly into whatever trap he'd been constructing. She looked at him suspiciously. “Connecticut.” “I am familiar with Hartford, Sally.” Leon looked down at his plate, although Sally noticed the corner of his mouth move. “Birthday party,” she explained. “Whose?” Sally stared at Otto. Otto waited. Around them the conversation had somehow become suspiciously quiet. “Oh, come on.” “A friend?” Otto suggested innocently. “Yes.” “A good friend?” Sally's eyes narrowed further. “Yes.” Then Otto smiled. “Airplane boy.” Sally's mouth dropped open. “How do you know about airplane boy?” That got the table. Astrid laughed first, Caroline immediately afterward, and even Ally lowered her phone because apparently this was too interesting to photograph. “So there is an airplane boy,” Emma said. “Oh, no,” Sally muttered. “Charlie?” Sophie asked. Sally turned toward her. “How do you know?” “You told us about Charlie.” “I mentioned Charlie.” “Several times,” Emma said. “I did not.” Ally was smiling now too. Sally looked around the table and realized she had absolutely no allies. “Yes. Charlie,” she surrendered. “He's turning fifteen. There's a birthday party.” “And he lives in Hartford?” Otto asked. “Near there. He's from my hometown. We've known each other for years.” Sally paused, aware of several knowing expressions appearing around the table. “He's a good friend.” “A very good friend?” Caroline asked. Sally pointed across the table. “Otto gets one interrogation. You don't.” Caroline raised both hands, laughing. Otto, wisely, decided he had reached the limit. “A good friend from home. Understood.” “Thank you.” Beside her, Leon had become noticeably interested in rearranging something on his plate. His expression had changed only slightly, a faint crease appearing between his eyebrows before disappearing again. Sally didn't notice. Otto did. He said nothing. Another dish arrived, and with it the conversation dispersed naturally around the table. Niklas began asking Matthias something about Copenhagen, Emma stole a piece of bread from Sophie's side, Sophie retaliated by moving Emma's water glass, and Ally resumed her quiet photographic record of the evening. Otto didn't ask Sally anything more. He could have. There were dozens of subjects available to him, and Sally knew perfectly well that Otto could coax information from her almost indefinitely when he wanted to. But he also knew when she'd had enough attention. He topped up her sparkling water instead and turned the conversation toward Leon, asking him about something he'd been reading. Sally relaxed back into her chair. Dinner continued at exactly the right pace. Plates arrived, circulated and disappeared. Nobody was overwhelmed with food, but nobody was remotely hungry either. Sally went back for another piece of fish when she wanted one, Sophie continued behaving as though anything placed within reach became legally hers, and the local white wine gradually lowered in the adults' bottles while condensation collected on the sparkling-water bottles. By the time the final savory plates disappeared, Sally felt pleasantly satisfied rather than stuffed. Outside, Vis had gone dark around them. Lights traced the waterfront, reflected in long trembling streaks across the harbor, and somewhere beyond those lights Lady Lara waited at anchor. There was no reason to hurry back. -- Sally remained close to the twins after that. Whatever injustice Emma and Sophie had suffered by not sitting beside her through dinner was apparently forgiven once dessert arrived, and Sally moved over to join them while the adults lingered over wine and conversation. The twins immediately made room for her between them, as though restoring the natural order of things. Ally, meanwhile, had decided that the light was too good to waste. “Stay there,” she instructed, already raising her phone. Sally looked suspiciously at her. “Why?” “Because you look amazing.” “I’m eating dessert.” “Exactly. Natural habitat.” Sally rolled her eyes, but Ally was already taking pictures. A few candid shots became proper portraits once they stepped outside, where the warm lights of the restaurant and the last traces of evening over the harbor gave Ally more than enough encouragement. Sally's sundress moved lightly in the breeze, and she tucked a strand of her short hair behind one ear as Ally changed angles. “That dress is seriously alluring on you,” Ally announced. Sally stared at her. “It is. You've got this really delicate face, and then the practical little shag going on. The contrast works.” Sally stuck her tongue out at her. Ally took the picture. “Oh, that's definitely staying.” “Delete it.” “Never.” Sally laughed, but posed all the same. She turned slightly toward the harbor when Ally asked her to, one hand resting loosely against the stone wall, and it was then that she noticed Leon watching from his place near the table. Not staring. Leon didn't stare. He looked away almost immediately when their eyes met, directing his attention toward something Matthias was saying with a degree of concentration that Sally found just a little too sudden. Sally's mouth twitched. “Stop smiling,” Ally said. “I'm not.” “You are.” Sally looked back at the camera. “Take your picture.” Ally did. By the time they eventually returned to the tender, the waterfront had settled into the comfortable rhythm of a summer night. The ride back across the bay was cool enough that Sally was glad she'd brought something over her shoulders. Lady Lara grew steadily larger ahead of them, her decks glowing against the darkness until the tender slipped alongside and the crew welcomed everyone back aboard. -- Sally didn’t remain dressed for long. She disappeared into her cabin and immediately realized that Delia had done an excellent job unpacking. Everything seemed to have found a logical home. Dresses hung neatly in the wardrobe, shorts and T-shirts occupied drawers where Sally would have expected them, her toiletries had migrated to the bathroom, and even the miscellaneous things she had thrown into her suitcase at the last minute had somehow been organized into sensible places. Her diapers. Sally’s eyes widened. She opened one drawer, then another, checked the wardrobe and finally went into the bathroom. There, tucked discreetly beneath the sink, she found the package. Good. Apparently Delia understood both organization and privacy. Sally opened the package, took out one diaper for later and left it folded next to her pillow before continuing with her bedtime routine. She took off her sundress and underwear, washed her face, brushed her teeth and eventually slipped on pajama shorts and a T-shirt. Her short hair required almost no attention at all, something she was rapidly discovering might be the greatest advantage of cutting it. A quick pass of her fingers through it was sufficient. She considered going straight to bed. Then she heard Emma and Sophie somewhere down the corridor. That settled it. Barefoot, Sally padded out of her cabin and found the twins in the cabin they shared, already changed for bed and very clearly nowhere near ready to sleep. She stepped inside. “Okay,” Sally said, closing the door behind her. “What are we doing?” That immediately earned her their full attention. A few minutes later Sally was sitting cross-legged on one of the twins’ beds while Emma and Sophie rested against the headboard, the three of them facing one another in the comfortable intimacy that seemed to develop naturally once everyone was in pajamas and the adults had disappeared. Sally held her ankles loosely and gave them a little grin. “Thank you for the flowers and the chocolates, by the way.” The twins stared at her. “At the hospital,” Sally added. “We also sent a stuffed bunny,” Emma said seriously. “We ordered it online,” Sophie explained. “It was supposed to be white. With a bow.” Sally’s smile softened. “They probably came, but I’m afraid not everything made it to my room. There were a lot of flowers and plushies and things.” She paused. “I sent most of the toys down to the children’s ward. But I kept all the cards.” Emma and Sophie looked at each other. “The children’s ward?” Emma’s eyes widened. “That’s a wonderful idea.” “Children suffer too,” Sophie said. “They probably enjoyed the stuffed bunny more than you would have.” Emma nodded, although she looked faintly disappointed that Sally had never personally met their bunny. “We know it sounds childish, but a bunny is soft and cuddly. And in a hospital...” “It makes perfect sense.” Sally laughed gently and leaned back, still holding her ankles. “Trust me.” Emma watched her for another moment. Her expression changed. “Did it... hurt?” Sophie didn’t echo the question. She simply watched Sally, waiting. Sally tilted her head as she considered how to answer. Then she nodded. “It did. A lot.” The humor had left her voice completely. “But once I was on the stretcher, I was more worried about Theresa.” “Your assistant,” Emma said. “My friend,” Sally corrected gently. “At least, that’s what she is to me. Even more now.”  Both twins nodded. They seemed to understand that distinction mattered. “When they took me out of the plane, I thought… they had forgotten her. She was unconscious.” Sally let the silence sit for only another second before deliberately brightening. “But let’s change the subject or I’m going to have bad dreams tonight.” That worked. The seriousness broke. Sally leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell me something.” She looked from Emma to Sophie. “Is it really true that the Mermaid comes from Copenhagen?” -- Sally’s change of subject had accomplished exactly what she'd intended. By the time she eventually said goodnight to the twins and returned to her own cabin, Copenhagen had replaced hospitals and airplanes in her head, and Lady Lara had become almost completely quiet. She spent a little while in the bathroom before bed, sitting on the toilet with her phone in her hands, catching up on chats and sending a few of Ally’s pictures from Vis. There were photographs of the waterfront, dinner, the three girls together and, inevitably, several portraits of Sally that Ally had already forwarded to her with strict instructions not to complain about them. Sally complained anyway, saved the best ones, and sent a couple. When she finally put the phone aside, she changed into her diaper and climbed into bed. The sensation brought an unexpected little wave of déjà vu from Flying Fox: tucked and padded beneath the covers aboard a mega yacht, surrounded by darkness and the almost imperceptible movement of a vessel floating at anchor. Different yacht, different sea, different summer, but strangely familiar. Emma and Sophie had been delighted to tell her everything worth knowing about their city, although they had been surprisingly dismissive of the Little Mermaid. Apparently tourists were far more impressed by her than Copenhageners were. Tivoli, on the other hand, was important. Sally had been made thoroughly aware that Tivoli Gardens occupied an almost sacred position in the middle of the city, along with very specific streets where she ought to shop, places she needed to walk and foods she would be required to try whenever she finally visited.  By the time she'd escaped their cabin, Sally felt reasonably confident she could survive forty-eight hours in Copenhagen under Rasmussen-approved conditions. She drifted to sleep with visions of Copenhagen.

Nice to meet you little🍼

I don’t soil my diaper—nor do I walk around in a dirty one—when I’m out shopping or among other people in public. To me, there is a clear red line between those who are incontinent and cannot control it, and those who do it on purpose close to other people and in stores; in my opinion, the latter are behaving rudely and shameless. As far as I know, incontinent people rarely soil their diapers while out, as they try to take care of business and get cleaned up before leaving home.

MegaMax diapers are great diapers: absorbent enough for my night time wettings and discreet enough for my daytime wettings worn under normal clothes. After I change my morning wet and messy Kiddo Fluffy Fly diaper, also bought from NorthShore Care Supply, I will wear a blue MegaMax diaper to the office. I'll wet my diaper throughout the day with the security and confidence that no one will know...I think...

PS>...WILL BE adding members from multiple groups, but ALL will be "in the community" Again, I am offering a prize package (1 bag) of diapers to the MOST IMPROVED PLAYER ANYONE unfamiliar with this..even if you beat me that night, for the 1st few weeks, I WILL help you set your lineup, look for free agents, help you in trades...ANYTHING to get this going! I dso not care if I lose...I simply miss the fun playing, the banter between members during the season.....ALL OF IT ON ADISC we had almost 50 people who played, so there is NO WAY IN HELL they disappeared! Any women who want to play...MY WORD!!!! NO ONE will be allowed to hit on you or anything else! You become friends with people of YOUR choosing and if someo harsses you, I will PERSONALLY HANDLE THAT!   I TRULY MISS PLAYING....and win or lose, the fun, the friendships, all of it! WORTH ITS" WEIGHT IN GOLD! NEED a MINIMUM of 10-12, but 20+ is ideal...I have a friend HOPEFULLY connecting to friends I made on SPANDI (before the most underhanded PRICK on earth found a way to ban me by creating DMs AS ME, only NO ONE ever received them!) so this is going to happen, but we need members NOW! OH! I almost forgot!   AVALANCHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NEED some DEAD WING fans to pick on LOL