The roar of the engine and the indie-rock music are my only response, so I steal a glance at her, finding she’s focused on my fingers. I pause the movement, and her head jerks up.
“What?”
Weird.
“I asked about the plan.”
“Oh, right.” Her cheeks morph into a fire-hydrant red, and I crank the air-conditioning so she’s more comfortable. “The plan is that I have no plan.”
“Repeat that?”
No way I heard her right. Sofíaalwayshas a plan. It’s one of the most charming things about her.
“I figured we would go with the flow after we find somewhere to camp for the night.”
She chokes out the last four words.
“And you’re cool with that?”
“Yes.”
I don’t believe her. But I allow her to believe she can go along with no plan and quietly formulate one in my mind. I can guess how this will go. We’ll get there, and she’ll look around, confused, and then I’ll swoop in and surprise her with a super awesome plan.
Once I think of one.
Swimming could be fun. We could search for bugs, but I don’t think she’ll be fond of that. I know I want to film the shipwreck at low tide, and maybe we can scour the beach for seashells, too.
A million ideas rattle through my mind as we reach the beach and go from a proper road to sand. The tires grab for purchase, eliciting a yelp from Sofía, and I let out a deep laugh when she clutches the handles for dear life.
We had four-wheelers when I was a kid, and Doug and I have done a few videos where off-roading was required; otherwise, there’s not a chance I would have agreed to renting the cars ourselves. K’gari is not the place for newbies to try out off-roading—not with the possibility of getting stuck in the sand.
“Today is going to be so much fun,” I say as we roll onto the ferry.
“So much fun,” she replies, with more dread than anticipation.
That seems like a challenge, if you ask me.
***
In the list of things that could go wrong this morning, we’ve crossed off every possibility.
Sofía got seasick on the ferry. Spent the entire ride clutching a paper bag to her chest and waving me off anytime I tried to get close to her.
If she wants to suffer in solitude, who am I to deny her that?
Back on land, we followed the other four-wheel-drive vehicles to the small town in search of a place to stay. Sofía may have said camping was fine, but after being seasick, I figured the last thing she would want to do is sleep in a tent. Turns out, the hotel is booked full, and our only option is camping.
After that, Sofía’s mood soured, and I can’t blame her. Even now, as we drive to the beach with the SSMahenoshipwreck, she’s quiet, holding her stomach every time we hit a bump in the road. I have to give her credit. She’s a trooper and hasn’t complained once, even though it’s clear she’s miserable and on the brink of a breakdown.
Taking a hand off the wheel, I dig my camera out of my bag and hand it to her.
“Can you film?” I ask, hoping it will distract her from her roiling stomach. “This would make for an epic short clip on social media.”
“Uh, sure,” she says, taking the camera. “But it probably won’t be good.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Sofía is incredible at everything she does, so I’m sure this will be no different.
