I was having a serious hangover this morning when I woke up in my bed at seven. As I rose up to sit, I felt as if there was some heavy weight within my skull that had been trifling frivolously. I also realized I had not exactly been in any position with my legs dangling at the edge of the bed, and my shoes off except for my socks. My hair was helter-skelter and my watch was on the cabinet by the bed.

I could remember I had been drunk but I was absolutely unable to recall how I got in. Scratching my head and removing my shirt, I went in to the bath, washed my face thoroughly first of all, and then had a warm bath. I ordered a cup of green tea and sat down at the dining table. The hangover was still around and my rumination had all faded away. As soon as I finished my tea, there was a knock on my door.

I walked over to the door and as I opened it, there was a man standing with a faint smile over his face. "So you're up?", he asked me.

"Sorry? Do we know each other?", I asked back.

"Well, I do. But you... may not". Seeing the question in my eyes, he held out his hand forward for a shake and continued, "My name is Brian Hoffman and I was the one who brought you back here".

What happened next was that we greeted each other. I thanked him and then escorted him over to the living room before ordering another two cups of green tea. That man looked quite simple but elegance was there in his body language itself. I could very well smell his attar with its fragrance now all over my place. But there was still something I couldn't connect a point to – I had seen him somewhere. I couldn't recall where. Perhaps, I thought, at the party or as a faint reminiscence when he was manoeuvring me back to my lodging.

It was when the tea arrived and he spoke up as we took the first sip together. "You know, we have met before". I looked at him closely now. "At the harbour back at Perth, I had accidentally collided into you –".

Before he could finish, I exclaimed, "Oh yeah, yeah, yes!". For a moment my voice sounded quite childish but it was my hangover, alright. I grimaced with the pounding in my head. There was a strange silence from then on till we finished with our tea. It was when I asked him finally how I ended up like that.

"The party ended at around nine, you know, after it was all booze and booze. I don't drink much anyway. I had just been wandering around alone on the deck after the party, having my soda. It was when the party ended, I saw you at the bar, drunk to the brink, struggling to get out of the chair."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, and the barmaid was in a dilemma how to get you up. So, I just paced up and helped you home. You seemed quite in a tension though. You were going on babbling some names. Lady names. And you were swearing. You almost threw up but then you were alright. Holy Mother! It was all so crazy last night and I get you were nervous."

I was feeling so shocked and embarrassed at the moment. I drink, okay. But I never drink and behave like a chronic. This made an alarm bell ring over my head. "How did you get me here? You didn't know my room, did you?"

"No, you said that yourself. You were very much in a sub-conscious state. A classic, actually. Eyes closed, feet uncontrolled, hands and head dangling freely but your mouth quite active. Good for us though". He smiled. I was looking at him like a notorious student before the principal. I felt badly ashamed at that remark.

"When I got you in, I didn't have to contrive you to your bed. You pushed me away and did that yourself. It was me who removed your shoes and tried my best to make yourself lie on the bed sensibly. I hope I did my best".

I was not shocked. Not ashamed anymore. I was brilliantly embarrassed! "Holy Shit... Holy shit! Goddamn me if it were not you and some crook. My whole place would be robbed by now! Lord, oh Lord! I am so thankful to you, Brian. Thank you so much, man! Had it not been you, I—"

"Don't you worry, Mr.—?"
"George Brown"

"Yeah. Don't you worry, Mr. Brown. Everything's alright now. I don't suppose many had seen you. Hell, many were high themselves. Booze and booze, remember? Whatever happened, it's gone and now we are here – at this moment – sitting in your lodging and having a nice cup of tea". He sighed and then got up. "Well, you might be having some other jobs as well. I suppose I have too".

"Thanks again, Brian". I got up and held out my hand.

"Never a problem". He gave me another enlightening smile and shook my hands. "It had really been nice meeting you... By the way, I have been living just a corridor away. Your room is 17. Mine – 24... So don't shy giving me an opportunity of hospitality, Mr. Brown."

"Of course. And you may call me George. We are friends now, I suppose?"

"Oh yes. Perhaps that very moment I got you to bed. I love making friends. Turns out you had to drink that heavy yesterday to meet me after all". We laughed.

He left with his smiling face just the way he had come in. I kept wondering how cheerful he was. Coming onto some vessel like The Cathabella means you are rich. And I believe, I still believe, it's the rich who are the most worrisome folks. But that man right there had some charm, some brightness over his face. Mostly with his smile. It was somewhat comforting to me in some way. His personality and of course, smile, really impressed me. But the notion that I had finally got a friend on board, someone like Brian, was all the more relieving. After two lonely days, a sea-sickness episode, a crazy party and the worst alcoholic episode, I finally had a friend.

When I got up onto the deck, it was ten o' clock already. The floor was still being cleared and washed. People weren't around the party area and were at the other side of the deck. The pool was empty today and the bar closed. I leaned against the rails and looked back down at the ocean – with no nausea this time. When you looked just down, you could see the crashing of the waves against the hull. The sound which the water made was so exquisite to hear. I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to it. I was feeling so much better right then. The hangover was there but it had been dwindling fast. I could smell the aroma of the ocean itself. As I opened my eyes, I could see the sun reflecting itself above the water.

After that, I ran my eyes across the deck. It was all but a contrast to the other night. You could see the very drunk men from the party calm and sober now, reading journals and magazines sitting cross-legged on their deck chairs.

I got to meet Brian again this evening. He came in to my lodging when I had been reading the Jojo Moyes book, Me Before You.

"A fan of romance?", he asks me.

"Perhaps", I reply back with a smile. You couldn't help but smile at him all the time. It's what I call reflection – of expression.

But I don't think 'perhaps' is the answer to his question. I liked reading when I was alone. Although it is after years I have returned to reading ways. Provided the current situation of my romantic life, for me reading a romantic novel is like searching for some solace in the fantasy of me being Will and Aly my Lou, in some alternate parallel universe. To fantasize the love between us. To relive and re-cherish it.

Brian didn't stay in for long. We had our evening wine and before any conversation could begin, his name was announced on the corridor speakers by some staff that he was to answer a call.

I spent the rest of the evening till the dinner completing the book, witnessing the sad demise of William Traynor with warm, damp eyes.