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“I’m going to go get us some water, okay? To help you cool down.”
“Thanks.” I can’t bear to look at her, and she seems to sense I need space, for which I’m thankful. Watching your brother die in front of you—drownin front of you—and being helpless to save him when you’re just shy of three years old brings you closer to your family. At least, it did for me. We couldn’t be closer. Couldn’t love or appreciate each other more. Throughout our grief, we clung to each other. I know the statistics. I know that typically, when a child dies, the parents split up, but mine didn’t. They held on to each other, and to me, like life rafts. Which is why I can’t shake the gnawing worry in the pit of my stomach over leaving them, even for a day. If something happens to Mom while I’m unreachable, if she gets worse, if the unthinkable occurs… I’ll never forgive myself.
My hands tremble as another wave of nausea passes over me. I tuck my icy fingers under my legs and rest my head against the window. It’s all going to be okay.
It’s fine to leave the nest.
Natural.
You’re married now.
This is normal.
You didn’t have a honeymoon. You deserve this.
They aren’t mad at you.
Nothing bad will happen while you’re gone.
* * *
Several minutes pass before Florence returns with our waters. There’s a slice of lime in hers, lemon in mine. She eases down in front of me. “Feeling any better?”
“Getting there.” I smile at her and take the drink, sipping it slowly. It’s as if I can feel the cool beverage as it moves down my throat and into my stomach.
“I have some sea sickness medicine in my bag as soon as we can get to the rooms. That may help.”
“Thanks. I think it’s just a bit of anxiety.” I pause. “I really appreciate you doing this, you know?”
She squeezes my knee with a playful smile. “I know. I’m the best.”
I shake my head. “Something like that.”
She laughs. “Hey, so this was weird, but there was a guy at the bar who asked about you.”
The statement catches me off guard, and I look over toward the bar, which is crowded with people. “What guy?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get his name. He came up right when I was ordering and asked about you. I answered him while I was paying, but by the time I turned around, he was gone. I only caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.”
“What did he look like? What did he ask?”
“He had dark hair, I think, but I can’t be sure. He asked if we were together and if your name was Mae.”
“What?” I stare at her. “How would he know that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe he heard someone say it.”
Didsomeone say it? I try to think back. “What did you tell him?”
“I asked who was asking, but he disappeared before I got an answer.”
“Disappeared?”
“I mean, it’s crowded up there. He was behind me one minute and cut off the next. I thought maybe he came over to talk to you.”
“No.” I shake my head, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. “Do you see him now?”
She follows my gaze around the room. “I don’t think so. He was wearing a yellow shirt. Ididsee that much. If I catch sight of him again, I’ll let you know.”
