Page 85 of A Perfect Disaster

28

Helen

The sea seems to go on forever. After leaving Sardinia behind, the Marine IV sets out on a full day at sea toward Palma de Mallorca. Normally, I love days like this. Or I used to, because days at sea have a different rhythm. Life itself takes place inside the steel colossus. The passengers don’t scatter across the mainland; they stay on board, ready to make the most of every corner, devouring the buffets and sweeping through the duty-free shops. In my structured mind, fewer variables mean more control.

However, today I feel as though the ship’s more than one hundred thousand tons are floating on a question I don’t know how to answer: What the hell am I going to do about Maika?

The image of her in Cagliari hasn’t stopped haunting me for a single second. I remember her face when she received that call, the way she pulled away from the table, the pale color of her cheeks, and her voice reduced to a fragile thread as she told me about her grandmother. The nursing home, the fall, the need for physical therapy, and the damn forty-percent increase in the monthly fee.

Since then, I haven’t stopped crunching the numbers. And it’s not just a matter of money; it’s the consequences, the sacrifices, and the guilt that pile up in silence while the ship sails on.

Maika is going to need that promotion, because there’s an elderly woman in a nursing home who depends entirely on her. Because that woman is the center of her universe. And the poor woman has been carrying that weight on her shoulders while smiling, joking, and turning every unexpected event on board into a party.

I may have sweated blood for that promotion. But since Sardinia, every time I think about the promotion, something inside me splits in two. For the first time in my regimented life, I’m considering a possibility that would once have seemed absurd, unacceptable, and an insult to my career: quitting. Clearing the way for Maika.

“Fate hitting me right in the face…” I murmur.

Mid-morning, I head down to the central atrium with my tablet in hand and my head spinning. Since it’s a day at sea, the entertainment team has put together a lineup worthy of the best parties: pool games, Latin dance classes, the charity bingo that drives the retirees wild, a trivia tournament, and kids’ activities. It’s crazy.

Maika is with Leo, Lara, and Nico, reviewing the afternoon program near the passenger service desk. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, she’s wearing her usual uniform pants, and her expression is far too calm. Too neutral to be her. I stop a few feet away, hiding behind my tablet, trying to figure out what she’s hiding behind that “fun sergeant” facade.

“Leo, you’ll be in charge of coordinating the trivia game at four o’clock in the pub,” she tells him, shoving a blue folder into his hands. “Lara, you’ll supervise access to the family play area on the upper deck and do the initial headcount.”

Leo’s eyes widen as if he’d just seen Poseidon himself emerge from the water.

“Me, alone in the face of danger?”

“You have the written guidelines, and Nico is nearby in case the passengers get rowdy,” Maika replies.

Nico looks up from his phone at lightning speed.

“Me? What’s that about?”

“Because it’s about time you grew up and acted like an adult, kid,” she adds with a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“That’s asking for miracles, boss,” Nico retorts.

Lara chuckles under her breath, but I don’t find it funny at all. Because something’s fishy here. The 4 p.m. trivia game on a day at sea is packed to the brim, and while it might seem cute, the British and Spanish passengers competing for national pride turn into bloodthirsty creatures capable of arguing over a question about the Beatles as if their lives depended on it. And the family area needs strict crowd control so the kids don’t end up jumping overboard.

These aren’t impossible tasks, but they are critical for the rookie left in charge. And Maika, who is the queen of improvisation, knows this all too well. I approach her immediately.

“Everything under control over here?” I ask, crossing my arms.

She turns around. When she sees me, she gives me a smile. But it’s not one of her mischievous smiles, the kind that make my heart race.

“Running like clockwork,” she replies without batting an eye.

“Are you going to leave the trivia game in Leo’s hands?” I press, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. The kid needs to get some experience,” she says.

“He’s only been on a couple of voyages, Maika,” I point out, glancing sideways at the boy in question, who suddenly seems very interested in his own hands.

“And a twelve-page manual that you yourself approved at the safety committee meeting. If he survives the cheating retirees at Trivial Pursuit, he’ll survive any shipwreck,” she replies, though I notice her voice lacks its usual playful sparkle.

“The family activities on Deck Twelve also tend to get out of hand,” I continue my attack.

“Lara has the temperament to rein them in.”