She stills. I give her a squeeze to let her know it’s okay. She sits up and looks into my eyes. “Of course, I’d love to know that.”
I can’t meet her gaze. It’s not that the break up still hurts, it’s everything after. I don’t like remembering the man who fled in such anger.
“I was living in Cairns. I told you, running dives on liveaboards. My girlfriend was too.”
“What’s her name?” Junie asks. She doesn’t sound jealous or possessive, just curious. I say it out loud, sober, for the first time in years.
“Naomi.”
“Pretty.” She smiles.
“She was. We lived together, worked together, did everything together. And we had this plan. I guess in hindsight it was my idea, but I really believed it was both of us—” The words are pouring out now, as if I can’t hold them in any longer. “This guy who came on one of the tours—he had this old sailboat. It was a wreck, and he sold it to us for dirt cheap. We spent months working on it any chance we got. Sanding, polishing, taking apart the engine. I dumped all my savings into that piece of shit. I loved it. All we talked about was getting away some day. I wanted to sail around the world, meet new people in every port, dive in all the best spots. I thought she did too.”
I rub my hands over my face and through my hair. It’s embarrassing how stupid I was. How blind. How selfish. But Junie trails her fingers over my bicep like she already knows everything and she doesn’t care.
I sigh heavily, and meet her eyes. “When she told me there was someone else, I was blindsided. I thought it was still about theboat. I promised we could move up the timeline. I’d take out a loan. I’d do whatever it took—we could leave tomorrow. She laughed.” I only realize my hands have fisted when Junie loosens one and intertwines her fingers with mine. My pulse steadies.
“She’d already made up her mind. She was tired of living on boats. Probably tired of me. I wasn’t even thinking about stuff like marriage and kids then. I was so focused on the adventure. The open sea. So I left.
“I convinced myself she’d been holding me back. I’d been spending all this extra money and time making sure things were comfortable for her, but I didn’t mind a rougher ride. I half-assed it, and I paid the price. Didn’t make it past Indonesia. I’m lucky I didn’t just go down at sea. A big storm would’ve finished me off. I knew better, I was just…”
“Hurt,” she offers, pulling my hand to her chest.
I nod. “Yeah, I was hurt. My pride probably most of all. She married that guy. They’ve got a kid now. That could’ve been me if my head wasn’t stuck in the sand.”
“Do you wish it was?” Her voice is so careful and gentle, like a butterfly on my finger.
“No.” I squeeze her. “Not anymore. I wasn’t ready then and I don’t know if I’m ready now. I want kids some day for sure, but I still really want to have that adventure. I still want to sail around the world. Do it right.”
“The dream never died.” Her smile is a gorgeous thing.
“Maybe it did for a while. But meeting you, hearing about your bucket list adventures, and your Gran. I don’t know, I feel alive again. Awake.”
She looks thoughtful. I wonder what’s going on in that beautiful mind of hers. I’m surprised when the next words out of her mouth are, “Do you still have the boat?”
“No. Sold for parts when Mike took me in. It was a lost cause.”
“Too bad.” She frowns and then lays back on my chest. “That sounds like a great adventure.”
“It would be.” I hold her tight, breathing in the smell of her hair. I don’t expect my story to fix everything, but I hope it explains some of my reaction yesterday. We talk about some of the countries I dreamed of seeing and the tension seems to pass.
“Thank you for telling me that,” she says, later.
“Thank you for listening.” I feel empty, drained. There are no more words in me. I’m saved from having to speak any more by the sound of her phone vibrating.
“It’s my sister,” she says. Her whole body tenses. “I have to take this.”
“Go ahead. I still have to pack and brush my teeth.”
She slips out the hotel room door, and I hear the soft murmur of her voice from the balcony. She’s back in less than fifteen minutes.
“Everything okay?”
“Bad connection.” Her brow furrows. “We’ve been playing phone tag for weeks. Something’s up with her, but I don’t know what.”
“She’s lucky to have you. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Do you think so?” She softens just a bit.
