“Be real with me,” I say. “Do you think Ed is going to show up at the convention center today?”
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a contemplative beat. “Maybe. He might feel obliged to work for one of the conference days.”
“All right. If he’s there, we won’t run off and play hooky. We’ll resume working,” I say, eliciting a hesitant nod from her. “If he bails yet again, do you want to check out the aquarium or the art gallery today?”
The stingray glidesacross the tank floor in a graceful arch. Besides Barbie and me, there’s nobody else in this area. Penguins are being fed on the other side of the aquarium at the very moment.
It’s dark here, save for the blue light emitted from the various fish tanks surrounding us. I move to the next window, coming toa stop beside Barbie, who’s got the dreamiest expression on her face.
She peers at me and falters.
I groan. “Barbie, you need to stop feeling guilty?—”
“I’m trying. I just get really emotional and… um…” Her face tints with pink. “When I’m close to…” She trails off, but I don’t need to be a mind reader to figure out what she’s implying.
“Got it.” When I see the look on her face, I shrug. “I have a sister. Lara is crabby when she’s close to her period.”
She nods, then wanders off to the display behind us. This one hosts dozens of seahorses, and we both watch them dart back and forth in the water in zigzags. When I sneak a glance in her direction, I catch sight of her mesmerized expression. Her eyes are lit up. Her lips are curved with delight.
It’s like this wherever we go. She’s glittery. Clearly in her element. By the time we’ve reached the third exhibit of the aquarium, she’s chatting up a storm about seadragons and relaying information to me from memory.
Sometimes she’ll talk about native sea creatures from the sunny coast of California. Or she’ll bring up her research for her marine biology or oceanography classes. But she hasn’t stopped talking once, which I don’t mind.
Barbie’s sentence on loggerhead sea turtles is cut off with her gasp. Her eyes grow saucer-wide as we both tilt our heads back and look up at the exhibit tunnel we find ourselves in.
A small shark weaves through a school of fish above us. Tiny starfishes stick to the glassy surface. Corals are scattered across the tank floor.
It’s a sight to see.
It’s not the only one. When I look at Barbie again, she’s glowing under the blue light while she takes picture after picture of all the aquatic animals she spots.
“It’s so beautiful,” she marvels softly.
“It sure is.” My eyes never leave her face. “Breathtaking, even.”
She tears her attention away from the sharksucker and looks sidelong at me. “I can’t wait to work at a place like this one day.”
Within a heartbeat, I’m reminded of the fact that August is thirteen days away. The fact that there are six weeks until she’s no longer with the company. Or the fact that in two days, we’ll be flying home.
“I’m happy for you,” I say, because truthfully, I am. Even if she’s leaving. Even if we started at the company around the same time and I technically was onboarded three weeks before her.
Even if, just a few weeks ago, we worked on our mission goals at Green Checks for the next year and strategically outlined numerous collaborative projects.
But then I see the awed look and remember this is her dream, and the only feeling I should have about this is to be glad she’s pursuing her passions. One of us should be able to.
“Don’t be happy yet,” she says. “It’ll be a while before it happens.”
“But it will happen,” I say. Her lips part slightly, her eyes swimming with emotions, while she holds my gaze. “I know it will.”
She ducks her head, biting her lower lip. “I need a picture,” she whispers.
“For your sister?”
“For me.” A gentle flush crawls across her cheekbones while she lifts her phone. “With you.”
“With me?”
“Who else?”
