Page 57 of A Perfect Disaster

“Well, you’ve always liked a challenge.” He winks at me, takes the coffee cup from my hands to toss it in the trash, and looks at me with absolute seriousness before leaving. “Helen, the position matters, I know. But if to get that office you have to become an officer who doesn’t recognize the people who save your skin, then maybe the price of the return ticket is too high.”

“Maybe it’s the price I deserve to pay,” I murmur to myself.

But I know that’s not true. I know perfectly well that if I keep letting fear of the past dictate my responses, I’m going to lose much more than an office. I’m going to lose Maika before I’ve even had the courage to ask her to stay with me.

20

Maika

My body is urgently demanding that I return to the cabin. I need to take off these clothes and rest for a while. In fact, I fantasize about stepping into the hot water of the shower, letting the steam envelop me, letting my hair down, washing my face, and lying down on the bunk, even if only for five minutes, to pretend that fate hasn’t suddenly placed me in direct competition with the woman I love.

But I don’t. I walk away from the crew quarters, leaving behind the distant voices of my colleagues preparing for the night shift and that strange feeling of living a life that has suddenly fallen into disarray.

“Last time, there were also… unforeseen events. And today it almost cost us a tragedy.”

I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. No. I’m not going to cry in the middle of a hallway. I have limits—few, but I have them.

I head up to one of the upper outdoor decks. The wind is blowing hard, and the navigation lights seem less welcoming than those in the recreational areas. Here, the sea stretches out, painted in the leaden colors of sunset, swallowing the white, foamy wake left by the ship as it picks up speed toward Naples. The salty air hits my face and ruffles my hair. I walk over to the railing, rest my hands on the handrail, and finally, I breathe deeply. Or at least I try to.

“What an idiot I’ve been.”

When the meeting ended, I was hoping Helen would tell me I was wrong, that I’d done the right thing, and that we could move forward with our relationship.

But none of that happened. And now here I am, in the middle of the Mediterranean, with such a huge disappointment in my chest that I don’t know where to put it so it doesn’t drown me.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. The screen lights up with notifications from the crew’s internal app. I swipe my finger, connect to the data network using the ship’s Wi-Fi, and search for the contact I need.

The ringtone sounds once, twice, three times.

“My girl?” my grandmother answers after a moment, her voice filled with that tenderness that always manages to make me feel less alone in the world.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on my forearm, against the cold metal.

“Hi, Grandma,” I murmur.

“Oh, what a miracle. But have you seen what time it is? Don’t you have clocks over there?”

A small, crooked, broken laugh escapes me, but it’s sincere.

“Honestly, today I’d throw all the clocks overboard without a second thought.”

“That sounds like you’ve had one of those days that can only be fixed with a good bowl of hot soup and someone to gently comb your hair,” she replies, as if she were seeing right through me across the nautical miles that separate us.

I bring a hand to my mouth to stifle the emotion. My grandmother has that magical ability to read me, even from thousands of miles away.

“It’s been a long day,” I reply.

“Sure, and since I was born yesterday, I’m going to believe it was just a long day. Come on, my girl, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Grandma…”

“Is everything okay?”

There’s the key question. A question I wish someone else had asked. I look out at the sea. The glimmers of the deck lights shimmer on the surface of the dark water. I swallow, but my throat refuses to cooperate.

“Yes, Grandma,” I lie, because sometimes we keep lying even to those who know us best. “I just miss your hugs.”

There is a brief but eloquent silence on the other end. I know she knows. My grandmother knows everything.