Page 34 of 32 Days in May

“Miss? Miss, excuse me?”

When I turn around, I realize I have to look down in order to make eye contact with the source of the nervous, thin voice: a five-foot-nothing, extremely pregnant woman clutching the hand of a little boy with messy chestnut hair. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, but I . . .” Her eyes wander over to Miss Teak Skye, terror bubbling up in her expression as the boat bobs willy-nilly in the reflection of her eyes. “I was supposed to take my son—Emmett, say hi—on the sunset cruise, but I just don’t think I can do it. The doctor said I’m one speed bump away from going into labor and my husband is away for work and this thing is like . . . like, fifty speed bumps.”

“Oh, wow, I—” I start to respond, but the little boy with the chocolate-rimmed mouth interrupts.

“Mommy.” He grips her forearm, pressing his tiny, chocolate-lined lips against her skin. “Mommy, no. You promised we could go.”

She gives him a taut, pained look before making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever experienced. “If I get on that boat, I will go into labor. Could you take him for me? Please? It would be such an enormous help a-and you look so kind and normal. I know it’s a long ride—I can pay you! He’s seven a-and barely uses the bathroom. He’s a really good kid—”

“Mommy.” Emmett’s in a full-tilt panic now. He’s seven, but he’s not stupid. “I don’t know her.” Such a valid point.

“Of course,” I say, hoping to temper the sudden swell of anxiety rolling off both of them. Marco’s lingering at the edge of the ramp, hands in his pockets as he shuffles from foot to foot, eyes averted. Now that I know his triggers, I can feel his anxiety around being recognized. It has a palpable electricity to it. His entire body seemingly buzzes and a part of him sinks away, but I don’t want this woman to be surprised to find out she isn’t just handing her son over to a pleasant-looking woman in a bucket hat. She’s handing her son over to a pleasant-looking woman in a bucket hat and a minor celebrity. “You don’t have to pay us.” I jab a thumb at Marco. “I’m with my friend. We’ve totally got this. Stay here and sit. Please.”

“Oh.” The woman’s big brown eyes flutter shut in relief. She presses a hand to her enormous stomach. “Thank you so much.”

“But Mommy.” Emmett’s on the verge of tears. “I don’t wanna go alone!”

“Not alone, sweetie.” She leans down as best she can to meet his eyes. “With a new friend.”

“Hey, we’re gonna have fun,” I say, moving into a half squat to also meet Emmett’s eyes. But he refuses to be so easily convinced—and rightfully so. He buries most of his face into his mother’s long hair. I try again. “Do you know the names of all the original Pokémon?”

Suddenly, Emmett gives me a deathly skeptical look, peeling his face away from his mother’s side. “Kind of.”

“Really? Maybe you can teach me. I always forget at least fifty.”

His eyes dart back and forth between me and his mother. She gives him an encouraging pat on the head, and finally he detaches from her, like an octopus from the side of a ship.

“Maybe,” he whispers from behind a hand, the majority of which is now lost in his nose.

“Cool.” I reach for his unoccupied hand. “Come on, let’s see if we can spot any Magikarp from the boat.”

Emmett’s mom and I exchange phone numbers, and I promise her repeatedly that she can call at any moment, for any reason, guilt-free. She doubts herself for one nanosecond, but I assure her I’m not a serial killer or a kidnapper by letting her scroll through my Instagram feed, which is functionally a promotional page for the produce stand. Lots of pictures of me in my work boots with cartons of peaches. It’s humiliating, but it does the trick.

We board Miss Teak Skye and from the deck, we wave at Emmett’s mom the entire time passengers load on. Marco makes a beeline for the bow of the boat, securing an area exactly where the helm comes to a point. When Emmett and I finally make our way over, as the ferry pulls away, Marco is watching me with an eyebrow cocked.

“I saw that kid absolutely destroying an ice cream sundae,” he whispers, leaning close to me when I settle onto the bench beside him.

“Hush,” I hiss, tossing my tote bag into his lap. “His name is Emmett, and he’s a very good listener.”

“Just saying. When we hit a rough patch, you’re in the direct line of fire.”

I glare at him. “Says the man who ate a crab cake, an ear of corn, and two hot dogs.”

“One and a half hot dogs.” He corrects me, looping one arm through the handles of my bag and bringing the other to rest behind Emmett and me on the railing. It’s a small and paternal gesture that leaves me feeling weirdly protected—as if Marco’s elbow could do anything to keep me from going overboard.

Miss Teak Skye gains speed as we pull away from the southernmost tip of New Jersey, heading out toward open water. Above us, the sky is a soft celestial blue, streaked with cotton candy clouds. It’s five and the sun is still warm underneath the ocean breeze, but neither is strong enough to leave us uncomfortable. As we pull away, Emmett twists around to watch the shoreline grow thinner and thinner, his mouth falling open in awe.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

He nods. “My mom loves dolphins. She has my baby brother in her tummy.”

I nod back. “Your mom’s very cool. I’ll make sure we take a lot of pictures of the dolphins. Right, Marco?”

Marco peeks around my shoulder. “Of course, pal.” He holds up his camera. “I’ll get the best picture I can.”

Once we make it far enough from shore, Captain Bill begins his one-man show. I don’t want to laugh, but he’s pretty good at delivering a litany of dad jokes—lots of I’m not the whale you’re supposed to be watching type of stuff. Marco’s fully chuffed, basically slapping his knee. This delights Emmett endlessly and he switches spots to be between us, so he can get an instant replay from Marco without having to lean over me. He’s entered that specific type of kid hysteria where words like chum bucket send him into a delirium of giggles. He’s so gassed by the end of Bill’s ten-minute set, we’re basically holding him down to keep him from breakdancing on the deck.

“Alright, folks. We’re coming up on our first big sighting of the evening. Usually around this time of day a pod of dolphins makes their way across the horizon. I ask that everyone stay seated as we are going to drop anchor and things can get pretty bumpy. Now, all I need is a little help from my crew—when I say heave, everybody shout ho! Ready? Heave!”