Emma shakes her head. “It was never like this. I want to go back. I came here for a vacation, not to die out here.”
I can tell by her tone she’s only half serious about the dying part, but I’m worried too.
“I agree,” I say, looking at Gigi as the boat heels to the side, tilting the floor to a forty-five-degree angle.
Gigi rolls her eyes. “No one’sdying!”
Emma moans, resting her elbow atop the table and cradling her forehead in her palm. “I didnotbring enough seasickness pills for this.”
Gigi stands from the table. “I should probably take one of the pills I brought. I’m starting to feel pretty queasy myself.”
Emma moans again as Gigi unsteadily makes for her stateroom. She emerges a moment later, gripping a prescription bottle in her hand. I sit up, surprised Gigi has prescription seasickness pills since you can buy them over the counter. And she hasn’t seemed the slightest bit sick this whole time.Although she is a diva,I think.Everything she does is over the top.
Gigi zigzags toward the fridge, grabbing the counter for support as she moves past. She reaches the fridge and withdraws a bottle of water just as the boat heels sharply to the side. Gigi yelps, reaching for the counter as the pill bottle slips from her hand. White pills spill across the floor along with the contents from the fridge.
“Oh no,” she shrieks, dropping to her hands and knees, scrambling to recover her splayed pills on the moving floor.
I slide off the couch and crawl toward her to help, grabbing a few white pills as I go.
“Here.” I open my palm to give Gigi the pills I’ve recovered, noting the two capital letters imprinted on the round tablets.
“Thanks.” Gigi’s fake nails scratch my palm as she snatches them.
She swiftly plucks the rest from the floor and returns them to the bottle as I pick up the drinks and put them back in the fridge.
I watch Gigi take two before she screws on the lid. Those weren’t seasickness pills. Those were opiates. Prescription opiates.
“Did you guys bring the pocketknives?” Gigi asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I look at Beth, not sure how I feel about Gigi’s idea to throw our engraved pocketknives from Courtney into the ocean. Gigi’s request had come via an email from her assistant before the trip, which added to the strangeness of the whole thing. The email said Gigi thought it would be akin to spreading Courtney’s ashes, since the pocketknives were all we had left from her.
Beth nods, and I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes. She’s convinced Gigi wants to do it only for content to help build her platform. But now that we’re all together, I’m starting to come around to the idea. In their search for Courtney, rescue divers had recovered my knife from the bottom of the Sol Duc. Maybe tossing the pocketknives overboard will help me let go.
Without a word, Emma pulls hers out of her pants pocket.
I swallow, staring at the shiny red pocketknife, identical to the one Courtney gave me before we set out on our rafting trip. It was morbid to think back on that now, how Courtney thought she was so tough, so prepared, yet the knives did nothing to save her. Emma remains quiet as she stares at the knife, holding it over the table. I wonder if she’s too nauseated to speak, or if she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“I didn’t actually hurt my knee on that trip,” Emma says, still staring at the knife. “I faked it.”
I gape at Emma, stunned by her confession.
“What?” Gigi asks. “Why?”
Emma shifts her gaze to the floor beside the dinette. “This sounds crazy, but after Courtney fell in, I thought she’d done it on purpose. For attention. She always had to make everything about her, even if that meant she had to be the victim.” Her voice wobbles, and she lifts her gaze to mine. “I was sick of it. So, I pretended to hurt myself on that rock so I wouldn’t have to keep looking for her.” She turns toward Beth. “It was so stupid, I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. I had no idea we’d never find her.” Emma shakes her head slowly, her eyes distant. “I’m sure you all saw the video of me screaming at the contractor that went viral on social media. I’ve been seeing a therapist about it, and she thinks a lot of my anger stems from my guilt from that trip.”
Gigi puts a hand on her heart, looking wounded. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I can’t believe you kept it a secret for so long.”
Emma’s eyes brim with tears as she twists in her seat. “Because shedied.” She heaves an exasperated sigh and turns back around. “This isn’t about you, Gigi. I swear, sometimes you’re just as bad as Courtney.”
Beth slides me a glance, and I know what she’s thinking:Can’t argue with that.
I put a hand on Emma’s arm. “What happened to Courtney isn’t your fault.”It’s mine.I try to push down the guilt welling up in my chest before it swallows me whole—something I’ve had a lot of practice with over the years.
“I think we should throw the pocketknives into the sea tonight,” Gigi says, seemingly unaffected by Emma’s slight. “It’s time that we all let go.” Gigi widens her stance to keep her balance as the bow pitches over a swell, her gaze turning to the stairs.
“The captain said it wasn’t safe for us to be on deck right now,” I say.
She cocks her head. “But you were just up there.”
