Ollie laughed. “All right, Nina Lejeune, you tell that to Immigration. See what they have to say about it.”
“Maybe I will. We’ve still got time to figure this out, so stop worrying,” I said, as much to myself as to him.
***
All week, after finding Ollie in the bilge, I turned his dilemma over and over, racking my mind for a solution. I couldn’t shake the look he’dhad on his face when I walked in on him.Trapped, I’d thought. I knew the feeling. It was how I felt whenever I thought about the end of charter season, whenever a voice mail from a debt collector or one of my parents popped up on my phone.
Maybe I should have asked myself why I cared so much. But the truth was, I liked Ollie. We’d grown extremely close over the last few months. As much as I tried to deny it, the thought of his leaving and my not knowing when I’d see him again, the thought of not seeing him every day, made my chest ache as bad as my knee often did.
We were friends. I cared about what happened to him. And, yes, I’d had friends before, but none like him. None who got me without my having to explain. None who always knew when I was joking and when I was serious. None who listened to the ridiculous things I said without batting an eye. Now that I’d had a taste of something like that, it seemed impossible to live without it.
“Fecking proposals,” Ollie said when he stormed into the galley after a preference sheet meeting a few days later. “Hate when they do it the first night. The rest of the charter will be awkward if she says no.”
Later, I watched as he painted dozens of roses on a cake, his hand steady and deliberate as he dipped a paintbrush into food coloring and hunched over it. “You’re an artist!” I squealed, startling him and nearly ruining the whole thing. He threw me out of the galley on a wave of curses, but I didn’t care. It was worth it to see the way his eyes lit up when I said it again. “You’re a marvelous artist, Ollie, even if you’re rather moody.”
That night I watched from nearby as Ollie set the cake on the table in front of the primary’s girlfriend. When he leaned away from the table, I caught his eye and mouthedartistat him. Ollie shook his head, tamping down a smile that fought to make an appearance at the corner of his mouth.
I turned my attention to the primary. He wiped a cloth napkinover his brow and opened his mouth to begin his big proposal speech, and it was at that exact moment when the solution to Ollie’s problem came to me with dizzying clarity.
“Bunny pad. Ten minutes,” I said to Ollie once we’d finished breakfast service the following day. I’d hardly slept the night before, unable to shake the plan from my mind. It was ridiculous.Illegal.I’d spent hours researching, trying to weigh all the risks involved.
Admittedly, there were many.
Not that they made a difference. As soon as I’d thought it up, I knew nothing could deter me.
I just had to convince Ollie.
When I reached the bunny pad, Ollie was already waiting.
He pointed his cigarette at me. “You’re late.”
“Marry me,” I said, too excited to keep it in any longer.
The cigarette slipped from between Ollie’s fingers, making a black mark where it dropped onto the cushions. “Fuck,” he said, and scrubbed at it with a finger. “RJ’s gonna kill me. Do you think he’s killed someone before? He has that look.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. “Did you hear what I said?”
Ollie continued rubbing at the singed cushion without looking up at me. “Nina, I think you’re great, but—”
I covered my face in my hands. Maybe I should’ve led with an explanation instead of diving right in. “You’re not understanding me. Marry me so you can get your green card. Then you’ll never have to worry about this visa stuff again. You can even get your citizenship. Stay as long as you like.” I sat beside him. “I’m offended by your reaction to my proposal, by the way.”
Ollie searched my face as if trying to decide if I was joking or not. “Are you proposing we commit immigration fraud and risk the two of us going to jail?”
“Oh please,” I said. “It won’t happen. It’s not like we met online oranything. People know us. Half the crew thinks we’re sleeping together, anyway. I’m telling you, it will work.”
“I don’t think so, Neen.”
“People get married after just meeting all the time.”
Ollie finished his cigarette and immediately lit up another. “Not only is what you’re suggesting a felony, but it’s absolutely bonkers. What do you get out of it?”
“You need a green card, and I need a roommate.”
He looked at me as if I’d sprouted a second head. “I don’t get it.”
“Without someone, I’m stuck. I’ll marry you so you can stay, and, in exchange, you make me an authorized user on your accounts. I don’t even need the passwords, just the credit boost. Be my roommate. Cosign for me on a car loan.”
“I’d help you without doing this absolutely horrible idea.”
