Red

The massive ship lurched forward, and as I folded my hand on the tautly felted table, I knew any hope of my escape of the casino deck without scolding, reprimand, and ridicule was slim. My father’s words echoed in my ears; “Never put it all on Red, Stellina.” He constantly reminded me of his brother, my late uncle, who had been killed in a tragic gambling accident. He had always been a gambler, for all the good it did him, and high-rolled to his last breath. In the midst of sliding his chips across the table, in a vain attempt to put it all on red, he was crushed by a falling Swarovski chandelier. He died like he lived. Expensively. But I had never been one to listen to uninvited advice, and my father’s unsolicited words pinged off the side of my skull, stopped cold just short of comprehension. The perfect vision of hindsight now laid bare the truly disastrous situation that had befallen me, and as my game of cat-and-mouse with my father came to a close, I could sense his aura of disapproval and disappointment emanating from somewhere in the hazy, dimly lit yonder of the cruise ship casino. This is the story of how I put it all on red, and, in the family tradition, was crushed, if only metaphorically.

The bouncer manning the only entrance into the ship’s casino resembled something between a wild boar and a tree stump, with an intellect to match. Although his keen mind was missing, he was a sweet man, who I observed nightly, awaiting my first interaction with this giant piece of human. With the gentle slip of a twenty, it was quickly forgotten that I, a young girl, under no circumstances, should be allowed on the casino deck. He lumbered aside, and I took my first steps into the previously foreign den of vice and intrigue. My gaze wandered, with no particular focus, trying to absorb and internalize my surroundings. Clusters of scruffy-looking men, some grinning criminally and some scowling down into their drinks, crowded around the worn game tables. Every manner of indulgence was on display, and although I thought I would be right at home risking my cash on games of chance, I was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer expanse of the crowd and the ease with which they would part with their money. Still, my determination to rebel didn’t waver, and I sauntered forward with purpose in search of a game I recognized.

My stroll led me quickly toward the noise and excitement of the roulette table; it felt as if I was a magnet being pulled into the grasps of this game, like always. Turning down a slew of free drinks, and the leering, objectifying gaze of men who were going to leave with much less than they came, I arrived at what I knew would be my haunt for the foreseeable future. All my attention will be captivated by the lowest-limit roulette table in sight. The worn buy-in sign read one dollar, although the table’s low space on the totem pole could be discerned by anyone with eyes. A ragtag bunch of three gaunt men stared blankly at the ball as it skittered around the wheel over and over, fixated on winning money to assumedly pay off gambling debts, meet rent, or overspend at the cozy, run down gentlemen's club filled with an array of tiki torches and women dressed as a far-fetched from Lilo as it gets. As if in unison, all three of them looked up from their meager stacks of chips and eyed me suspiciously. I pulled up a stool, and mentally consulting the “How to Play Roulette” WikiHow page I had only recently breezed through; I began to rehearse over and over the words I would say with a completely masked voice because I knew a casino was entirely out of my comfort zone. After enough practice, I confidently told the dealer I’d be buying in for seventy-five dollars. That was the first rush I had felt of the night, and it engulfed me to know that I was entirely disobeying rules on all different levels.

As the dealer slid my fading chips across the table, the crustiest man at the table audibly scoffed and shook his head gazing into his mojito, visibly displeased that his mojo had been interrupted by an outsider; I was clearly not a frequent to him nor was he pleased to expand his horizons on this night asea. He flippantly tossed one five dollar chip across the felt, wagering that the fate of the ball would bring it to a black segment of the wheel. I expected nothing less from a man of this nature: stalky, implanted hairs just enough to question his not so solid hair line, and the most atrocious amber chinos with a fringe that is oh so non-complementary. I am aware that my presence here is not appreciated, but I long for the rebellion in any sense I can get. Maybe it is because my sisters think I am in the gym working off various lava cakes during dinner, or maybe it is because my favorite uncle died playing this game. The risk and the rebellion make this life all the more interesting.

Growing up, I have never been the favorite, dependable child, but that never stopped me from being the exciting one. I never longed for my father’s approval like Melanie did. I knew my sister’s ivy league path was much different than my free-spirited ways. We may have been twins by appearance, but it does not get more polar than Melanie and me. I wonder sometimes how that came to fruition, but I question more of why I am pondering these thoughts during the early hours of the morning while in a cruise ship casino. Is there something missing? Maybe. I have become impressively talented at masking my underachievements, but that is for another time.

From my 27 dollar buy in, I have tripled my money, and I do not anticipate on calling it a night; echoing in my ear I hear, “quit while you’re ahead, Stellina,” and knowing that is what my father desires of me makes it entirely simpler to do the opposite. Fringe chinos was still at his stool, but he has substantially depressed his funds. Just as I was about to go all in on black, a new man appears and sits next to my right. He is a middle-aged man wearing a Carmelo Anthony Jersey. As I continued to mentally look up WikiHow on roulette, this man, Mike, buys in for 200, dollars, and I see an interesting night ahead.

Maybe it was just luck that Mike came exactly when I would have lost all my money, or maybe it was the extensive knowledge I gained on WikiHow, but it is safe to say (I am still sitting here, where I will be for the remainder of this night). I have overcome the casino musk, the oh so not trained waitresses, and I anticipated another watery strawberry milkshake will be in order to keep my mind from wandering off to my family again. I am determined to utterly cherish the night, simply because I may be under the iron fist of two people who were able to control whichever aspects they chose: parents.

Mesmerized by the spinning of the white ball, I continue to, not so conservatively, bet black in attempts of proving to these grease men around me that I too can participate in these games of chance. Mike is still around, and frankly, he is the sole person whom I refer to by their given name; sure, I have heard the name of amber chinos too, but is he actually worth the significance of a name to me? No. Looking at my watch and my watered milkshake, it hit me that this night was quickly coming to an end. I fully anticipated in leaving everything on the table, maybe my dignity or my money, maybe both, or maybe my fears.

I hear the dealer call for last bets and in an instant, I put it all on red, and my father’s voice inside me pings from ear to ear; I am full of the rush that I had been searching for all night. The dealer spins the wheel for the last time of the night, and it is moving around and around and is beginning to lose momentum. Is it red? Is it black? I am enthralled. My eyes are focussed. My foot is tapping, and I have an intense grip on glass. I am sitting trying to sip on the now strawberry water that is left from my milkshake that is hopping from the tapping of my foot. I mask all fears rushing to my brain and just am paralyzed by a little, white ball. In that moment of anticipation and and the questioning of my bet, I had an obscure thought that maybe my father does know a thing or two about life, and maybe the lesson was to never place a bet with all your earnings. It lands on red and I begin to picture the luxury of the thick strawberry milkshakes that will be in my fingertips promptly.That may be the last careless thrill I encounter for the near view of my time horizon. Maybe I will learn the ins and outs of poker no limit, clearly a safer bet. Until then, I know that this dim, musty 7th deck casino has taught me more than I ever wanted.