Marina Doyle had been Shirley’s best friend in the whole wide world. The way her laugh had swelled out of her chest like a crashing wave. The way she hopped up and down in excitement like a prancing pony. The pretty headscarves she used to wear, sewn with silk roses and shiny beads. Marina had helped compose the majority of Shirley’s happiest memories. Their happiest memory together had also been one of their last.

Six years into their friendship, on the week of Marina’s fourteenth birthday, it was her Make-a-wish trip. Marina had wanted to sail the world. And she wanted to take her best friend with her. For seven exhilarating days, Marina, her family, and Shirley had hopped from boat to boat, exploring the seven seas like the hardened sailors they’d always dreamed they’d someday get to be.

Thirteen months later and Marina was dead. Complications from a botched craniotomy intended to remove an aggressively cancerous tumour.

Shirley’s eyes remain shut, even as she feels her surroundings change. The floor rocks up and down with the flow of the tide. She can feel it even with her eyes closed. She smells saltwater and coffee. She hears the whistle of a boiling teapot and the rumbling of a steady current.

Shirley opens her eyes. She takes in her surroundings and she gasps.

“Where would I be if I were truly happy?”

The vast blues and whites of the sea take her breath away, so much so that she has to lean on the dark wooden railing to steady herself. There’s no land visible for tens of thousands of miles. The brightness of the sun, the way it’s shining against the stark white clouds and shimmering against the water. It is blinding.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Shirley mutters to herself. Although her words are apprehensive, her tone is full of nothing but awe. She steps back from the deck, turning around and gasping once again. Her boat is huge. A steam-powered ferry, painted in earthy browns, blacks, and golds. A pair of stacks huffing out swirls of rainbow smoke. Shirley reaches up and strokes the lines that attach the right stack to the railing. She recognizes the design of the ship almost immediately.

The first Christmas Marina and Shirley had spent together. The first Christmas Shirley had spent away from whatever foster home she was stuck in that year. Her first Christmas with people she could call family. Marian’s parents had gotten them matching white sailor hats. With their hats slumped down their foreheads, they tore open their second gifts. Two model boat kits. For Marina, a model of the U.S.S Constitution.

For Shirley…

“The Mississippi Comet…”

Shirley had kept her model on a little stand in her apartment, right next to her bed. Marina’s model had been buried with her after she died. Who knows, maybe Shirley’s model had been buried with her as well. Then again, there was no way her meager savings were enough to pay for a cemetery lot. She was probably cremated. But such morbid thoughts didn’t depress Shirley, not this time. Standing on the polished deck of The Mississippi Comet, bigger and even more beautiful than her little model had been, there is nothing that could bring her down.

The noise that bursts out of Shirley’s throat can only be described as a squeal. It morphs into a laugh that swells out of her chest like a crashing wave, her feet bouncing up and down like a prancing pony.

“Oh my gosh!” She laughs, “Are you kidding me!?”

Overtaken by the restless need to explore the boat, her big beautiful boat, Shirley hurdles over the railing. She falls all the way from the hurricane deck to the bow, feet stinging from the impact, but she doesn’t care. From there, she’s off. Down the main deck and towards the stern. Look at that gorgeous paddlewheel! She watches it turn like a tiny Farris wheel, loud and proud as it churns the water.

Back to the bow and up the main stairs. The boiler room is hot, the temperature gauges ticking back and forth ever so slightly. When Shirley goes up the next flight of stairs to the boiler deck, she doesn’t find the hallway of passenger rooms as she had expected. Instead, she finds a kitchen with a half-wall separating the front house from the rest of this charming little cafe.

Shirley hums, “This is--”

“Perfect, isn't it?”

Shirley jumps. Her reflection in the steel refrigerator waves at her.

Shirley blinks, “It’s you.”

“It’s me!” Yu grins, “So, what do you think?”

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Shirley could have smiled at Yu. She could have gushed and gasped over the decor and craftsmanship. She could have praised the attention to detail, how well Yu seemed to know her and her wants. She could have said ‘thank you, thank you, thank you!’ like an excited toddler. But the grin on her reflections face. The way Yu’s eyes blink, too slow with pupils too wide. The too expectant, too casual tension in its body.

Shirley is immediately on edge.

She maintains an open but blank expression and hums in a non-commitment sort of way, “You definitely did your research.”

“I did,” Yu intones, clearly expecting more of a response, “Do you like it?”

“It sure is something.” Shirley leans against the wall, arms crossed. She smiles but her smile maintains that careful air of emptiness, “What are the rules?”

“Rules?”

“Yes. What am I allowed to do? Am I stuck in this one place or can I leave whenever I want? Am I alone?”

“Well…” Yu mimics Shirley’s stance, “I wouldn’t exactly say we have rules here. This is your afterlife, you make the calls. You can pick your location, your activities, your appearance, and the company you keep. Think of this ship as your foundation. If you don’t like it…”

Yu trails off, eyeing Shirley keenly. It’s waiting for some validation, she can tell.

“I like it,” Shirley says, watching as Yu smiles like a puppy who’s finally been given a bone, “It’s very homely. But if I wanted to go somewhere else for a while I could? And I’d be able to come back here?”

“Whenever you want. The world is your oyster and I am the knife with which you crack it open.”

“I see…” Shirley raises an eyebrow, “Do I have to go through you if I want to change something?”

“Oh, goodness no!” Yu laughs. The reflection in which it resides straightens up and walks out of sight. It reflects in the kettle, and then the toaster, then the industrial ovens. It motions for Shirley to follow it, which she does. Shirley point at the empty table over the other side of the half-wall separating the kitchen from the cafe. Yu says, “Think of something you want and imagine it on that table.”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything you want…”

What does she want? She’s not hungry or thirsty; she’s not too cold or too hot. The table, glossy walnut with a pretty blue glass river, has four wooden chairs. All of them as empty as the rest of the cafe. Aside from her reflection, Shirley is alone. Alone in paradise.

Suddenly, the tabletop warps. Its polished surface bubbles and from within the wood, a cream-coloured mass ruptures forth. Sprouting like fungus, it flourishes until the mass takes a firmer shape. Bright eyes and a gentle smile; young and able-bodied. The mass remodels itself into a man in casual brunch attire with a coffee cup in hand.

The man waves his cup happily in Shirley’s direction, “Captain Villeneuve! Great to see you, lass!”

Shirley blinks, “Um, Hello--”

“Captain!” Shirley turns and suddenly, a woman is sitting at the table next to the man, sipping her ice tea with a smile. The woman says, “Finally came down for breakfast, have you?”

“I--”

“Captain, shall I grab you a muffin and some coffee? I just took a batch of double chocolate out of the oven! And we’ve got a fresh pot of coffee here too!”

Shirley jumps as another voice, much too close and much too loud, startles her from behind. She spins around. There’s a girl in a polka-dot shirt with a pink apron tied around her waist standing behind her. She has a coffeepot in one hand, a tray of muffins in the other, and a smile on her face.

“Oh, well…” Shirley half expects to be interrupted once again. Instead, she simply trails off. When she looks around her boat’s cafe, she sees every seat is now taken. Men and women in their summer dresses and pool shorts chatting over their breakfast.

Shirley’s gaze flickers to the ovens, fridge, toaster, and coffee pots. Her reflection has disappeared, Yu is gone with it.

She takes a muffin from the girl in the polka-dot shirt. She smiles, “Thank you! I’ll just take a stroll around the cafe before I head back to my quarters. Keep up the good work!”

The girl meets her smile with one of her own. The captain then slips through the saloon doors and into the eatery, absently nibbling on her muffin bread.

Her passengers enjoy their morning, acting as if all was business as usual. The kitchen is bustling, the girl in polka-dots accompanied by two more baristas. A short boy with blonde hair and freckles and a plump woman wearing black lipstick and nail polish. They banter with each other like old friends. It like they're real. Like they’re real people, with real histories, and real personalities. Like they actually exist.

And maybe they do.

A passenger in a pretty yellow skirt and white blouse calls out her the captain. The passenger says, “Hey, Captain! How’s your morning treating you, girl? Everything ship-shape?”

Shirley smiles, tentatively.

“Ship-shape and Bristol fashion! How are you doing, ma’am?”

This is all she’s ever wanted in life. And now, in death, she has it all. All she’s ever wanted.

“All I’ve ever wanted…”

~*~

“And there you have it! She’s perfectly content. To hell with your doubts!”

The phone in its hand mumbles a reply into its ear, too quiet for any outsider to hear.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

More mumbling.

“If Shirley doesn’t want this, she can choose something else!”

The voice on the other end scoffs.

“Yes, she can!”

The voice laughs.

“She can! Why are you laughing!?”

The voice laughs harder.