The boat ride turned into a whale watch, as the captain turned the boat to get us closer to a small pod of humpback whales. It was dazzling to watch the giant, beautiful creatures. It also took all of five minutes for me to feel ill as we crossed into the choppier water further out in the bay.
“I may need to sit down,” I said, and found a space on a bench inside the boat.
Paul came and sat next to me.
“No, no, no,” I told him. “There are whales. Go watch them. They’re frolicking.”
“I’ve seen whales,” he said. “I haven’t seen nearly as many seasick tourists.”
I laughed and then felt worse.
He looked me over. “Do you know all the tricks for seasickness? Look at the horizon. Don’t look inside the boat. Deep breaths. Don’t go into small, enclosed spaces. Do you want me to find a wristband?”
“A wristband?”
“You put pressure on your pulse point on your wrist.” He put his hand around my wrist. “Some people think it relieves seasickness, but it may just be the placebo effect.” He looked at his hand on my wrist and held it firmly. I looked up at him, thinking that he had very lovely brown eyes, and that I wished I didn’t want to die quite so much because I could enjoy this more. He met my eyes, and his expression went very still. There was a moment when I was sure he wanted to kiss me, and then he gave a quick, internal smile and an almost imperceptible shake of his head, like he was dismissing me or his feelings. It killed me that I didn’t know which one it was, that I couldn’t tell whether he was thinking, ‘Abby will never like me,’ or ‘I will never like Abby.’ Itmade me want to kiss him, just to settle the issue one way or the other, but he was already back to his polite cheer.
“I’ll look around for a wristband,” he said briskly, standing up. I gazed at the place where he’d put his hand on my wrist. It still felt warm. He must be one of those people who still had warm hands even after clutching the sides of a boat for an hour.
He came back with a small rubber bracelet from the boat crew. “Put this on.”
I looked at the bracelet and rolled it onto my wrist. “I feel like I’m in an aerobics video from 1985.”
“That’s good,” Paul said. “Nobody ever gets sick in aerobics videos.”
I smiled and then felt queasy again, so I did my very best to focus on the horizon and not get sick off the side of the boat. A few minutes later, though, it was too much, and I rushed to the very tiny boat toilet while Paul stood outside it, waiting for me.
“That is a tiny toilet.”
“It’s called the head.”
“What now?”
“The toilet in a boat.”
“What I just did gives the phrase giving head new meaning.”
He opened his mouth to reply, didn’t.
“You do this thing,” I said. “You look like you’re going to make the world’s dirtiest joke, and then you stop yourself.”
“I’m trying to be a nice, well-behaved Canadian.”
“Is that why you took me on a boat tour? Because I’m pretty sure this was a torture technique.”
He looked apologetic as he led me back to a seat outside in the back of the boat. “I’m genuinely sorry.”
“Not at all. I’m having fun, in between the vomiting. I promise.”
By the time I stepped off the boat, I was a bit unsteady, and Paul gently held my elbow to make sure I didn’t fall.
“I’m feeling very guilty. How do I make it up to you?”
“I’m easygoing. I just need your firstborn child and access to your bank account.”
He grinned. “You could do better than either of those things. I don’t know when a firstborn child will be on the offer. How about a classroom full of restless thirteen-year-olds? I don’t think their parents would miss them.”
“That’s another torture technique, isn’t it.”
