Katie was doing her best not to regret this decision already.
Her room was quite suitable, and when she returned to New York, she knew she owed her doctor handsomely for the doctor's note he had written her to say that she would be requiring a room on an upper deck. The hallways on Arete deck did not bother her at all, though the bell hop who'd had to wait for her while she took the stairs and he took the elevator hadn't been very amused. Not that Katie much cared. Bell hops who didn't know their place (or manners) obviously did not require tips, now did they?
She liked her suite, the Rose Suite. She'd been expecting tacky, nautical rooms, and so hers had been quite the pleasant surprise. There were fresh roses everywhere, and the room was fragrant and comforting. If she did not look out the window or balcony doors, she would have been almost able to forget that she was on a ship.
But she was on a ship. And once they departed, she knew there was no going back. And the anxiety set in, hard. She'd taken a couple Xanax (she'd already taken one before boarding, but over the years she'd built up quite the tolerance), and once it finally started to kick in, she unpacked. She could do this. She knew she could. The ship had a much better layout than she could have ever hoped for. There weren't a lot of places she would have (or want) to go that weren't open or near windows. Any narrow hallways could be avoided. Her room had an armoire, rather than a closet. This was okay.
Or so she kept telling herself. In the end, it didn't matter. Once enough Xanax to drop a horse was in her bloodstream, she felt pretty okay with just about everything. Possibly an extended okay into late March. Splendid!
Katie then took some time to change from her travel clothes, selecting a cream floral-print silk dress and a pair of sunglasses, both from Roberto Cavalli. Katie had never cared for mixing designers, a little quirk of hers, and tried to avoid it if at all possible. But the way she was feeling right now, perhaps even that would not bother her. Slipping her sunglasses on and stepping into a pair of flats, she left her room and headed first for one of the upper decks. She had to admit, the air was amazing. It reminded her vaguely of the times her father had taken her sailing as a child, though those times had cut out after she was five and too afraid to go any more. As a small child, she had loved the water - and then overnight, she had learned to fear it. She could not handle the idea of submersion. Even now, the thought made her skin crawl.
But the medicine was doing its job, and after walking the deck some, she even felt brave enough to approach the railing. A man was there, gripping the rail tightly. She might have ignored it normally, but the drugs made her a bit more talkative. "Are you alright?"