A Turn for the Better

We are in the game room at Turtle Cove, checking email on the slowest Internet terminals in the universe, when Eddy and Scott step in to play pool.

I spotted this incongruous pair earlier in the week. Eddy, slender and animated, is clearly of Asian descent. Scott, on the other hand, embodies the typical “boy next door” look. Both appear to be in their mid-twenties.

Scott racks up the billiard balls and asks if we want to play. I hesitate, only because I really, really suck at pool. Clyde and I take seats along the edge of the room and agree to watch the game and clap for the winner.

Scott is the picture of confidence, swaggering around the pool table and taking liberal swigs from his bottle of beer. What Eddy lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm: when he sinks a ball into one of the corner pockets, he grips his cue stick in both hands, jumps up and down, and squeals, “I did it! I did it! I did it!”

Slowly, we strike up a conversation. Eddy is the ice breaker, asking a range of questions running from our city of origin to our feelings about the television show Big Brother. He’s intrigued by my work as a Tarot consultant and writer … and excited about the fact Clyde and I are celebrating our tenth anniversary. “Oh!’ he exclaims. “If only I could celebrate my tenth anniversary!” He pauses. “In fact, I’d be happy celebrating my ten day anniversary!”

We wind up joining the two for dinner. As we talk, we learn they’re not a couple, but simply friends — and recent ones at that — who have taken a holiday together. “We’re so different,” Eddy points out. “He hates television. I love it. I watch everything. He hates talking, and keeps telling me, ‘You don’t have to talk all the time. Just be.’ But I love to talk, Mark — I really do!”

The conversation reveals many surprises, including Eddy’s age. This subject turns out to be the source of some contention — we find out, for example, that Eddy’s never even confided his exact age to Scott. Lithe and wrinkle-free, Eddy looks to be in his mid-twenties, and I tell him so.

“I love you,” Eddy says, pinching me on the arm. “No, really. I really do love you.” He goes on to talk about his practical take on plastic surgery as a way of agumenting a man’s looks: “Taking things out? This is okay. Liposuction? Lovely. Tummy tucks? Go for it.” He leans in closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “Just never let them put things in. That’s not surgery … it’s sickness!”

We also learn they don’t have Tivo in Australia as yet. (So much for my plans to move to Sydney.)

Being with the two of them turns what I expected to be another dull dinner into a really engaging evening. After we finish our steaks and kangaroo pasta (“I can’t bring myself to eat a kanga,” Scott remarks, staring at my entree. “It’s our national symbol. It would be like you going back to America and eating an eagle.”), we retire to the game room, where I pull out the Tarot cards for readings on romance.

Unlike so many cautious first-time clients, Eddy and Scott both take to the cards like ducks to water. Eddy scans the images and launches into a very professional, very insightful interpretation of his own, immediately catching on to the process. He is so open, in fact, I feel an immediate bond with him; he’s a bright spirit, eager to make some differences in his life.

Scott — the more guarded soul of the two — also has firm ideas about the meaning of each card. When working with new people, I always try to adapt my reading style to their needs — and Scott very much prefers to generate meanings for himself.

After this, we say our goodbyes. I feel strangely close to both of them, even though we’ve only known them for three hours. It’s the polite Southern thing to do to invite them to visit us in the States … but I find myself really hoping these two will take us up on the offer.

Back in our room, I sigh. “This is what I wanted Turtle Cove to be about,” I say. “I wanted every night here to include meeting people like this. You know?”

Clyde nods. “One great night at the resort out of five isn’t so bad,” he says, always looking on the bright side. And with that, we begin packing to leave.