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“Are you kidding? Those big brown eyes? Those legs? Those—” He cleared his throat, but she thought she caught him glancing at her breasts, the cleavage pushed into prominence by her position on her side. ”You’re not my typical
charter customer.”
“I’ve been a crying mess the whole time you’ve been with me. A crying mess, and a—” She couldn’t say it. It was too mortifying to think of Blaine listening to her gag over the side of the boat.
“Don’t worry about it, Mia. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six,” she said.
“You’ve got plenty of time to learn to fish. I didn’t start until I was your age. Ten years, later, look at me now.” He flashed her a blindingly white smile. Whoever said the English had bad teeth had never met Blaine Daniels. “You ready to head back?” he asked.
She nodded. She closed her eyes and listened to the hum and whir of the boat’s engine. He didn’t gun it the way he had on the way out. She sensed he didn’t want to jostle her too much. The cool air blowing over her skin made her feel a bit better. After a few minutes, she sat up and tugged her cover-up closer to her chest. Her nipples had perked up, too. She didn’t want Blaine noticing. She’d had enough embarrassment for one day.
They pulled into the slip and Blaine helped her gather her belongings. “How are you feeling now?” he said, as she stepped onto the dock.
“Much better,” she said.
“Coffee might help,” he said. He pointed at the marina’s little restaurant. “I don’t have anything else on the agenda today. Want a little caffeine?”
“Sure,” Mia said. She followed him into the restaurant, but made a break for the bathroom while he found a table. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. “Oh, my god,” she said aloud. Her eyes were like two teabags. Her complexion, red spots on pasty white. She’d braided her hair, and the pieces that had escaped during her puking session and on the ride back to the marina had formed bird nests around her face. She swallowed lingering nausea, but now she didn’t know if the disgust was over her equilibrium or her appearance.
She did the best she could with the bit of makeup and hairbrush she had in her purse, and she brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash. She looked at her phone for the first time in over two hours, and the blank screen squeezed her heart. Her F-you message to Jeff was the last text she’d received. She’d hoped to find an apology, or a retraction, or at least an acknowledgement. His silence couldn’t have been more hurtful.
She returned to the table. “I think I should go, actually,” she said. “I’m exhausted, and I still don’t feel well. And I have a lot on my mind.”
“Okay,” said Blaine. He stood. “I got you a chai tea. It always helps me when I’m feeling peckish.”
She smiled at him and took the hot cup. “Peckish. That’s so English. You are English, right?”
He nodded. “Born and bred.”
“Where are you from? London?” She poked her tongue into the tea to gauge its temperature. It was still too hot to swig. “Sorry. It’s probably annoying when Americans assume London is the only city in England.”
“Somewhere around there.”
“How did you end up here?”
Blaine ran a hand through his hair. She had the urge to touch it. Jeff had been losing his hair since she’d known him. He always kept his head shaved. She hadn’t felt a man’s hair curl around her fingers in years. “It’s a long story. I’ve ended up in a lot of places.”
“Like where?”
“Didn’t you say you have to go?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, right.” His dismissal flustered her. “I did say that.”
He headed toward the door and again she followed him. “I hope you feel better. Both here—” Blaine pointed at his stomach. “—and here.” He pointed at his heart.
She searched for a reason to keep talking, because something suddenly told her that she shouldn’t let Blaine Daniels walk away without at least connecting with him on social media, or getting his number. Blaine, however, seemed on a mission to get back to his boat.
“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “you’re boyfriend is an idiot.” Blaine clipped down the steps toward the rows of boats. Mia watched him go until he disappeared into the Wanderlust’s cabin, and then she got into her little hybrid car and drove home.
*
Mia woke up the day after her fishing disaster with no plan and a looming day of aloneness. Normally she didn’t mind being along at all, if anything she relished time to herself. Without the option of seeing Jeff, however, her solo Saturday took on a sad connotation. Jeff still didn’t reach out, and she refused to contact him. She met a couple girlfriends for lunch, and then drove to her parents’ house to commiserate with her mother. Her mom, a Cuban immigrant who would give you the shirt off her back and just as quickly dole out her opinion on your personal life, hadn’t been surprised by Jeff’s behavior. “That man,” Mama Maria said, with narrowed eyes. “Something about him I never liked. His mouth was twitchy and his bald head was too shiny.”
Mia laughed and blessed her mama for unflinching loyalty, but she’d been thinking a bit about herself, too. Anyone who didn’t after such a calamitous breakup was an idiot, in her mind. There was no excuse for Jeff’s cowardly dismissal of their two-year-long relationship, but he had been telling her he wasn’t happy for a while. Asking if they could find things to do together. She re-hashed the nights she’d chosen to read over talk to him, or the weekend days she’d urged him to go hunting so she could take a three-hour hot yoga class. Maybe her fishing gesture had been too little, too late.
She headed back to her apartment after leaving her parent’s house. As she drove down the interstate, she noticed the sign for Bartlett’s, the little restaurant inside the marina. She wondered if Blaine would be around. He’d probably taken clients out on the boat, but he had to be back by dinnertime, right?
