“What’s wrong?” Xav says as soon as I step inside the wheelhouse. He sits at the table in the corner of the room. It’s where we’ve had countless preference sheet meetings, where he’s lectured me a thousand times, where he’s passed me a cup of coffee and asked how I was doing, just to check in.
It’s where I first saw Xav on the day I boarded this boat and begged him for a job.
“I don’t think anything’s wrong.” I take the seat across from him. My toes still hang off the floor, but it doesn’t bother me like it did the first time I sat here. I slide the paper in my hands across the table. When Xav glances down at it, my life feels like a glass room, mirrored moments wink at me from all over.
Xav sighs as he looks over the paper. We’ve been friends for a long time, but I still can’t predict what he will say or do. Especially when it’s something like this. Something unprecedented.
He lifts his head. “You’re sure about this?”
“I don’tfeelsure,” I say, giving him a weak smile. “But it’s time.”
He runs a hand over his beard. “You’re really going to hand chief stewardess over to Britt?”
“She’s not so bad.”
“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”
I laugh. “She can’t keep her bunk clean to save her life, but she’s a great stewardess.”
“I hate to say I told you so.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I lean toward him over the table. “You know who else is a great stewardess?”
“Jo Walker.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, but that’s not who I’m talking about.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Nekesa. I ran into her a few days ago and happen to know she is sick of making upside-down caramel macchiatos.”
Xav’s smile is barely visible beneath his beard. “Sounds like I need to give Ms.Nekesa a call.” He folds my resignation letter into a square and tucks it into his shirt pocket. He leans back into his seat and settles his gaze on me again. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me, you senile old man.” I fold my hands on the table in front of me, squeezing them together to keep them from trembling. Saying goodbye to Xav and theSerendipity, the very things that saved me when I needed them most, doesn’tfeelright, even though I know it is.
Xav smiles. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring up the tears I’ve failed to hold back. “So,” he says. “What’s next for you, kiddo?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “But I have a lot of ideas.”
27
December
The night before Jo and Alex’s wedding, I curl up beside Jo on her couch and tuck my feet beneath her butt as we watch TV.
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of wedding-related activities. Though the wedding will be small and simple, I’ve spent most evenings at Serendipitous, hogging a table in the back with Greyson and making decorations for the reception. Jo and Alex stopped by to help whenever they weren’t working, though I could tell Jo was skeptical about the need for decorations in the first place.It’s your wedding, Josephine, I’d told her.Not some geriatric anniversary party at an Applebee’s.Decor is a must.
Earlier, Jo’s condo was bustling with activity: Jo’s family, which included her sister, nieces, and ex-brother-in-law, came by for dinner. Britt stopped by too, as well as Jo’s elderly neighbor Belva. I brought my overnight bag and a pitcher of Drunken Joeys, Jo’s signature cocktail. As I sat there in Jo’s condo, surrounded by all that laughter andexcitement, it was the first time I’d truly felt okay in months. The first time I could see Jo’s future and feel more happiness than loss.Thank you, therapy.
The condo is quiet now. Everyone else left for home or their hotel a few hours ago so Jo could get her “beauty sleep,” as if she needs it. Neither of us is tired, though it’s nearly midnight.
“Beth could’ve stayed, you know,” I say as another episode of some awful reality show Jo likes begins. “I can share you. I don’tlikeit, but I have to get used to it, I suppose.”
“That’s good to hear, but the truth is, I didn’t feel like sharingyou,” Jo says. If she weren’t sitting on my feet, I’d smother her in a rib cage–cracking hug.
