Page 63 of A Perfect Disaster

“You’ve made a list to figure out how to do it, haven’t you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes shrewdly.

I freeze. I feel a sudden heat rush to the back of my neck. Then Maika opens her eyes a little wider, astonished.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe it… You actually did it.”

“Actually, it’s not…” I protest weakly, feeling cornered.

“It’s not… what?”

“A list. It’s a framework for interpersonal improvement,” I admit, defending my ground with an absurd pride that doesn’t fit in my uniform.

For the first time in twenty-four hours, Maika lets out a laugh so pure and genuine that my heart races completely out of control, skipping a beat.

“You’re incredible, Helen,” she says, shaking her head, but with her eyes lighting up.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment on your scale of values,” I reply, though I feel the tension in my shoulders melt away.

“Hmm… I’m still evaluating it,” she replies with that spark that’s so uniquely hers.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. This time she doesn’t avoid my eyes or hide behind her usual sarcasm.

“Seriously. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I assure her, and in one fell swoop, I let down all my defenses.

“But you did,” she replies.

“I know.”

“And I don’t want to take your place, Helen.”

I don’t know why, but the sincerity in those words hurts my heart.

“You shouldn’t put your career at the shipping company on hold because of me,” I add.

“I didn’t say I’m going to retire. I said I don’t want to take it away from you,” she clarifies.

So, she’s going to compete with everything she’s got. Screw the humanity plan.

Before I can come up with a corporate response, the radio on my belt roars with a high-priority beep. Immediately after, the pager in her pocket starts beeping. We both look at the devices at the same time.

The truce on board lasts exactly as long as it takes for a cup of coffee to go cold.

· · ·

Half an hour later we’re in the ground operations office, with Arturo and Julianne standing before us. The atmosphere has that uncomfortable vibe of bad news being kept under wraps. Gonzalo is leaning against the partition, frowning as he checks a tablet. Maika stands by my side, calm but tense.

Julianne speaks up, direct and to the point.

“We have a complex situation at the port of Naples. There’s an unexpected strike by local transport and taxis that’s blocking the main access roads to the terminal and affecting half of the scheduled tours.”

I close my eyes for a moment. Of course. The universe has decided that yesterday’s crisis in Rome was just a rehearsal.

Arturo continues with the briefing:

“Some passengers who had booked private tours won’t be able to leave as planned. The shipping company is going to increase the number of shuttle buses, but we need to coordinate the departure flow, address complaints, and negotiate with port authorities regarding the waiting area.”

“How many affected passengers do we have on the lists right now?” I ask.

“Off the top of my head, about two hundred thirty,” Julianne replies. “But if the traffic gridlock worsens in the city, that number will double in the next two hours.”