When money talks… a true story. Almost.

I should have known something was up - what, with my husband wanting to take me to an exotic locale on my dream vacation. I should have heard the money from my life insurance whispering in his ear - something about a new car he wants…and a motorcycle. I should of recognized it all when he suggested learning how to sail a mini-sailboat/raft-with-a-sail so we wouldn’t have a guide with us. So, we’d be. all. alone. in. the. ocean.

My story starts in the beautiful waters off of Montego Bay, where my husband was learning to sail our little raft-thing (because I don’t know what they are called). Our first outing alone went rather smoothly, with the guide on shore blowing his whistle as Steven did the training session (when the whistle blows you turn - every time). Finally, the guide lost interest in training us him and decided to go off to help another couple, who were still on land. We sailed around with no incident as my husband scoured the ocean for a perfect drop-off locale for my body we talked.

The next day, I opted out of raft-sailing, so we kayaked instead. My husband was perplexed that I had ruined his wonderful plans, so when I got a little feisty, saying I’d just jump out of the kayak if he didn’t stop, he said “Go ahead.” - Which resulted in a silent Ashley all the way back to shore…and then some (and a few dirty looks just to change things up a bit). Finally it hit him. He suggested we go out on the sail-raft so we could “talk”. Me - being the talker (meaning he’s not), should have seen a red flag. Instead? I climb onto the raft. Today, though, he took us farther out into the ocean - farther away from the watersports hut. We began to near one of the little piers, and as I knelt toward the center of the raft, ready to move to the other side for when the sail changed direction, he RAMMED the raft straight into the pier, saying “watch out” as I fell into the water. Head first. I came up, out of the water, sputtering for air. He saw me, and dissatisfied that I was still alive, tried to mow over me with the sail-raft. As I came up for a second time, he positioned the sail-raft 10 yards away and calls out to me “Hurry up. Before I sail blow away.” (Yes, that’s right. He wanted me to swim out TO him, the man that tried to kill me. Twice. And climb OUT of the water and onto a sail-raft that would surely tip over.)

Instead, I took off the Large (as they apparently didn’t intend to have XS sized guests at the resort) life jacket, and swam back to shore as the on-duty guard stared open-mouthed as he fumbled for his walky-talky. And, then…I walked back up the beach as my husband laughed his head off. I’m still contemplating the best method to dispose of his body.

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