It took a second for her brain to catch up to the skip in her heart. “Holy shit. Andy!”
The night came back to her in a rush—her chest pressed against his strong back as they rode on his motorcycle, the two of them lying side by side beneath a ceiling of stars, tumbling together into the swimming pool—that blissful, scary suspension of the fall. The way his kiss felt a little bit like love.
A small, feathery spin in her stomach. And with it, surprisingly, a swell of relief. Like a wrong had been righted, an unnatural separation fixed.
“What are you doing here?” She was nervous. Which she never was. She ran her hand self-consciously through her hair, remembered she hadn’t combed it before she left.
“I work here,” he said. He stepped up to her, just close enough into her space that she could feel the way he towered over her. She looked into his eyes, acutely aware of her body’s desire to breach the inches between them. “I was hoping you knew that and came looking for me.”
“We’re looking for whales, actually,” she said.
But he was staring at her and she was staring at him and it seemed like words were in the way and neither of them were really listening.
Crap, she really liked him.
He leaned in closer. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You would have missed me,” she said.
“I already did.”
She smiled, looked away.
“Guess this means fate has decided,” he said.
“Could be coincidence,” she said with a shrug.
“Hey, lady,” the deckhand called. “You in or out?”
Andy arched an eyebrow. “Good question,” he said. “You in or you out?”
She smiled, called to the deckhand, her eyes still on Andy.
“In,” she said.
Andy grinned. Time stopped. Just for a minute.
“You should probably give me your number,” he said.
“We’re leaving in the morning.”
“You’ll be back.”
She laughed at his confidence. “Give me your phone.”
She put her number in.
“Okay, then,” she said.
“Okay, then,” he said.
They gazed at each other for one more lingering moment and then she hopped onto the Viking Star and blew him a kiss.
She joined her friends at the stern as Andy stood watching. The deckhand threw the coil of ropes onto the dock and the boat rocked and bounced off the old tires on the pilings. Hannah grabbed Maya’s hand nervously and squeezed.
There was a sudden swirl of white water as the motor purred, growing into a frothing wake. The diesel engines hummed, low at first as the boat moved slowly from the dock and then changing pitch as the captain hit the throttle. The horn blew as they slid into open water, the white sun flashing on the ocean. The wind picked up as the shore receded, Andy on the docks growing smaller, waving one last time before walking away. Something in Maya’s chest fizzed, reached back to him like the boat’s wake.
They moved starboard, their faces pitched toward the sea. Hannah took a deep breath, let go of Maya’s hand.
“You all right?” Maya said.
Hannah clutched the rails. “Trying to tell myself this is fun,” she said. “Like falling down the ski hill stoned. What about you? You’re looking a little flush.” She laughed at her own teasing, her hair whipping across her face as the boat picked up more speed.
Maya scoffed, tried to make her smile smaller. It seemed so embarrassingly big.
“You always get the guy,” Blue said, staring queasily into the water. “It would probably make me sick but—” she paused as the boat heaved over a small swell, looked like she might retch into the ocean “—I already am.”
“Please,” Maya said. “I never want the guy. I’m a free bird, baby.” But she didn’t feel free. She felt the tug of longing, of Andy back on the docks, pulling her into port. She was surprised by how nice it was. How much it caught her off guard, introduced her to a part of herself she didn’t know was in there.
“I remember that feeling,” Hannah said, reading her thoughts.
Their eyes met. Hannah smiled lovingly, but Maya could see the sadness.
She wanted to say something, to apologize, to take back everything that had just happened with Andy so Hannah wouldn’t have to see it, be reminded of what she’d lost.
“I’m gonna hurl,” Blue said suddenly. She ran off the deck, pushing sightseers out of the way with such force that Maya pictured them being thrust overboard in her wake.
The other three looked at one another.
“I’ll go,” Renee said.
“Guess we won’t be seeing her again this trip,” Maya said as she watched Blue disappear down the stairs, Renee at her heels.
She turned back to see Hannah headed toward the ship’s bow in her big sun hat and glasses. She seemed determined, white-knuckling the rails as she went, passing a mother and her toddler feeding bread crumbs to the seagulls. The birds glided along at the boat’s pace, dive-bombing to snatch the crust out of the kid’s hand as he squealed in fearful delight.
Maya watched Hannah reach the front, square herself against the expanse of ocean as if issuing a challenge. She saw her lift her face to the sun as she held her hat. There was something so poignant and solitary and heroic about her in that moment. At this distance Maya could see the whole of her—how the bubbly feeling inside Maya once belonged to Hannah: romance, innocence, hope, all taken in an instant. Hannah turned as if she could sense Maya watching her. She smiled and waved. Look at me! she seemed to say. I’m doing it! Maya smiled back, felt a pang. She forced herself to forget about Andy, put him away. She had to.
She joined Hannah at the bow.
“It’s so pretty out here,” Hannah said.
The salty wind pattered their faces, the boat cutting across the sparkling water like scissors on a cloth.
“When I saw you before with Andy,” Hannah said, “it reminded me of how good life can be. Like, not just pleasant or fun but that really euphoric good, you know? That juicy...” She reached out her hands as if trying to grab at something. “I don’t know...center of it all.” She laughed. “What am I trying to say? I’m babbling. Just maybe that I’d forgotten that.”
Maya stared out over the ocean. She didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t feel right that she got to have the juicy part.
“I thought I was protecting myself. Being so conscious of all the bad things that could happen,” Hannah said. “But I’m beginning to think that anxious voice in my head isn’t even mine. It’s those men. It’s like they’re everywhere, around every corner in my brain, dangling a new fear, saying, ‘We’re out there. We’re going to get you again.’”