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“You didn’t know what to do?”
I was hurt. So much for the aphrodisiac. The fire in my loins was replaced by a fire of anger and confusion. I mumbled my disbelief, shook my head, and sulked my way to the bedroom.
“Wait, Bonita,” Ken called out. “You don’t understand. We—”
I silenced him with a hand in the air. I entered the bedroom, shut the door behind me, and collapsed onto the bed.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Leave me alone,” I shouted, and they did.
I pulled out my phone and called Greta.
“Tell me everything.”
“Hi, Greta, I’m fine, thanks,” I lied.
“Tell me everything,” she repeated.
“Greta, I’m coming home.”
23
Bonita
Sailing on a private yacht across the Atlantic with a gorgeous Nordic captain and his equally gorgeous mate might sound like six days of glamour and luxury, but for me, those were the saddest, loneliest days I had ever spent. Sasha must have given the captain a heads up because he respected my need to be alone to reflect and sulk, which was how I spent every waking minute of our transatlantic voyage.
Before setting out, I bit the bullet and called my mom. It had been nearly three weeks since we’d last spoken. I figured I’d let her yell at me over the phone so she’d have less ammunition when we were face to face.
“You had us worried sick, Bonita,” said my mom, in a much more relaxed voice than I’d expected.
“I’m sorry you had to worry,” I said. “But, admit it, you never would have let me leave if I’d told you my plans ahead of time.”
“Of course, we wouldn’t have let you sail across the Atlantic to some foreign land where God knows what could happen to you. We love you. And we care about you.”
“What’s that they say, if you love something, set it free?”
“Well. ‘they’ never had a daughter with solar urticaria.”
I sighed loudly into the phone. “Now, you understand why I couldn’t tell you.”
“Honey, I will never understand what possesses you to do the things you do.”
The sun was starting to come up. Captain Johnson, or as he asked me to call him, Gunnar, said it was time to set off.
“Just two more minutes, please,” I asked. “I need to hear Greta’s voice. Otherwise, I will be too upset to deal with six days at sea.”
“Two minutes,” he repeated, and he walked back to the yacht.
“Greta, I know it’s late.”
“It’s early—almost one a.m.”
“My father’s picking me up at Larchmont Yacht Club on Thursday early morning.”
“That’s going to be one tense car ride home.”
“Can I see you Thursday afternoon?”
“Of course. Thursday, I said I would help Hans with some casting—”
“Casting?”
“It’s a long story. Hans seems to think he’s found a great way to make money and have fun at the same time. It’s a crazy and hair-brained idea. I’d tell you, but I’m afraid it would be too tame for you.”
“Ouch.”
“You know I’m going to tease you about this. But only because you’re my hero.”
“I don’t feel like a hero.”
“Bonita, what you did, I would only dare dream to do. But you actually went out and did it. You’re my hero.”
“Thanks, Greta. Now, I have to heroically board a boat and—”
“A yacht,” she corrected. “Don’t call it a boat. You have to board a private yacht.”
“I have to board the yacht and try to stay sane for six days.”
“Don’t stay too sane,” she said. “I want to see my crazy Bonita on Thursday.”
“See you on Thursday.”
The yacht had been cleaned, the linens changed, the bar restocked, but nothing could be done about the memories. I sat, alone, at the table we’d played cards at, together. Over my shoulder was the cabin where I’d first made out with Landon and where I’d first kissed Noah. We were close then. And we’d grown closer in Iceland. Yet somehow, we’d gotten so close that we were now worlds apart.
I was sad, looking at the empty space in the yacht and remembering their voices, their laughter, their smell, their touch. Then I remembered that they’d voted on whether to keep me in a coma and use me as an incubator, and I wasn’t sad anymore.
That first night out at sea, unlike on the voyage over, there was no rain, no storms. The waters were calm, and the night was still. After a long rest, I stepped out of the cabin and ventured onto the deck. The sky was lit with an explosion of stars like I’d never seen growing up in New York.
Gunnar had himself a good laugh, seeing me on the deck, my mouth gaped open, eyes wide in disbelief.
I pointed up. “Look at that.”
He laughed. He saw the stars almost every night. “You don’t see many stars in New York, do you?”
I shook my head. It took a good while for the realization to sink in. I finally pulled my eyes off the majestic sight and looked at Gunnar. “You mean that’s been there the whole time?”
