Page 88 of A Perfect Disaster

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly.”

“Of course you know what I mean,” I insist, moving a millimeter closer. “You’re handing me this promotion on a silver platter, Maika. And I don’t want it. I don’t need you to save my ass in front of them.”

Maika turns her head and locks her eyes on mine. There’s a glint of exhaustion mixed with a rage that takes my breath away.

“I’m not doing that,” she denies, stubbornly.

“Maika, please…”

She looks away, and that gesture hurts me more than any slap.

“I don’t want to win this competition like this, Maika. It doesn’t make me happy,” I admit with complete sincerity.

“Then how do you want to win?”

My mind goes blank. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said on my own merits. A week ago, I wouldn’t have cared as long as I got promoted. But now… now I haven’t a damn idea. My mind is overwhelmed by the story of her grandmother, by the nursing home bills, by the future, by her hearty laugh in Cagliari, and by this love that has run me over without warning. I’m caught between the choice of quitting myself or both of us throwing our careers away out of fear of losing each other.

I want to tell her that I’ve seriously considered withdrawing my application. That she should take the job—she needs it a million times more than I do. That I’ll make a life for myself on another ship, or on land, or wherever, as long as her grandmother gets the treatment she deserves. That I don’t want to see her choose between her future and her family. That I love her so much it scares me, but that I’m even more scared of a future where she doesn’t look at me the way she used to.

I open my mouth… but I’m a coward, and I go silent. Trapped in my own schemes. If I tell her this now, with how proud she is, she’s going to have a massive meltdown. She’ll think I pity her, that I’m acting all high and mighty, and we’ll break this thin thread that binds us.

So I stay silent. And the silence grows darker and heavier.

Maika sets the bottle down on the coffee table with exasperating slowness.

“Do you realize? This is what we always do.”

“Do what?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

“We get to the edge of the cliff, to what really matters, and neither of us has the guts to speak plainly,” she says with a sadness that chills me to the bone.

I look at her, unable to speak.

“Because I’m struggling to figure out how to handle this, Maika… Love isn’t taught in protocols.”

She smiles wryly, her eyes glazed over.

“They didn’t teach me that in the entertainment course either.”

That confession should break the ice, but today it only widens the distance. I stare at her hands, those hands that have driven me wild in our intimacy. I’m dying to take them and squeeze them. To tell her to stop this madness, that I don’t want her to give me anything. That now I’m the one who wants to be the shield, even if that turns me into what I’ve always hated: someone who makes decisions for others, believing they’re doing good.

“Maika…”

“I have to go,” she says, standing up before I can stop her. “The cooking demonstration at the theater starts in a minute, and if I don’t keep an eye on Nico, he’ll probably crack a dirty joke at the chef’s expense right in the middle of the show,” she adds, forcing a cheerful tone.

I try to imitate her and smile, but I end up with a hideous grimace.

“Don’t ever leave all the responsibility to the new guys again,” I ask, fixing my eyes on her back.

Maika pauses for a second by the doorframe and glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

“And you, don’t ever think again that you’re the only one who can save everyone.”

29

Helen

After Maika leaves the room, I’m frozen in place. And it’s not because I don’t have anything to do; it’s just that my body has decided to go on a general strike. Maika’s words are burned into my forehead.