A peek into Rosie's life.

Meet Rosalie!

Rosalie Chandler is a woman of a certain age. When she boards a cruise ship with her husband, Stanley, for their long-awaited cruise through the Eastern Caribbean, she has no idea how much her life is about to change.

Feeling a little depressed over her fifty-something birthday, and, oh-by-the-way, that twenty or so extra pounds that seems to have crept up on her over the last few years, Rosalie is fairly certain that her life has begun to wind down. That is, until she meets six women only a few years older than her own daughters, who welcome her with open arms into their newly formed clique.

When the group decides to gather their wits and set out to solve the mystery of a missing crew member, they, and Rosalie (dubbed, "Rosie"), by her new circle of friends, realize that she has a knack for all things investigative which makes the group look to her not only for motherly advice, but for clues and insight into the disappearance as well.

Rosalie Chandler is funny, smart and heartbreakingly fragile in this story of a woman looking for her place in the world when she doesn't seem to fit anywhere, anymore.

So, I re-posted this from Feb., 2012 (Has it really been that long?", as a little background for the scene you're about to read.

After a few drinks, Rosie bares all to Kelli; and because Kelli has had a few drinks, she gives Rosie some advice on how to confront her husband.

 Rosie

Walking through the Casino is an assault on the senses, for sure. The cigarette smoke is suffocating. How do they do it? I wonder. I stand off to the side, by the huge window seat and look around. The place is jam-packed with people. Where do I begin? There’s even an ATM over in the far corner. Hmm…you can’t get on the internet, but you can get to your bank. Then I spot him. He’s at a slot machine instead of the blackjack table and lo and behold, there’s even an empty seat beside him. It’s hard to breathe but I take a deep breath and march over there to confront him.

Sliding onto the seat next to him, I clear my throat to get his attention and he doesn’t even turn my way. I insert my key card into the slot and the machine comes to life. Finally, he turns toward me and does a double take. His face blanches. “Hon! Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Stanley, we have to talk.” I say. I pull the lever and get fifteen free games.

“What? Is everything okay?”

“No, Stanley. Everything is not okay.” The next pull gets me ten more free games and I’m up sixty-seven dollars. I see his eyes going from mine to my machine and back.

“Okay, so stop. Tell me what’s going on, for crying-out-loud.” He crinkles up his eyes then. “Rosie, are you drunk?”

I turned to him and say, “Stanley, if you don’t start paying some attention to me I’m going to divorce you.” There. I’ve said it. “Your move.” I say, and give the lever another pull. I love these one-armed bandits. Then the lights begin to pulse and the alarms go off and all of a sudden we’re the main attraction as bells on my machine keep dinging and the “Total Amount Won” keeps going higher and higher. “Oh, my God!” I can’t believe my eyes. It’s actually a little scary the way people begin to gather around us to see how much I’ve won. For once, I’m speechless.

“Holy cow, Rosie. You’ve been here for five minutes and you manage to break the bank.” Stanley’s laughing and so, am I and for a minute, I’ve forgotten my purpose for being here. I turn to him, my laughter subsiding, my surprise and excitement replaced with the knowledge that my husband does not take me seriously.

I swallow the lump in my throat and for once, do not give in to the tears that threatened to diminish the importance of why I’m here. Stanley does not value me. I can see that now. All of a sudden, I see with such clarity, the insignificance of my existence. I get up from my seat and tell the crew-member to give the credit-slip to my husband and I walk away.

“Hon, wait. Where are you going?” My husband looks confused. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember the word “divorce” has passed my lips, because, as usual, he probably wasn’t listening.

I just keep walking.

Back in our stateroom I finally let go of years of pent-up frustration and anger. I cry and cry. I cry for every little thing that has ever gone wrong in my life. I cry for the baby I’d lost six months into our marriage, I cry for the time I couldn’t fit into my new jeans and I even cry for the time my Lana didn’t win the Little Miss Minnow Contest. I cry into the bed pillows until there are no tears left. The one thing I do not cry for is the fact that my marriage, as I’ve known it, is over – I’m crying for the fact that my life has meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Now I’m all stuffed up and can’t breathe, so I get up to splash my face with cold water and see myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen, blotchy skin, mascara smeared all over my face. Who cares? I think, and my pathetic looking face makes me start crying all over again. Now I’m just feeling sorry for myself, but I don’t care. It feels good to cry. I’m so tired of being strong. I’m tired of swallowing my feelings, my opinions that have never seemed to matter, but most of all, the very essence of myself.

And all of a sudden I feel an instant calm. And I know that things are about to change – I’m about to change. At fifty-three years old I still feel like twenty-five and my instinct to survive kicks in.

I know it will be a while before Stanley will be able to get down here, what with the paperwork and all, so I take a quick shower and go out to sit on our balcony. I lean my head back against the chaise and look up at the night sky. Our stateroom is situated away from most of the lights on the ship and the stars are so brilliant it takes my breath away. I see the little dipper for the first time since I was ten years old and other constellations I can’t name, but recognize the shapes of. No, my life isn’t over, I think. It’s just beginning.