Page 53 of A Perfect Disaster

Maika lets out a bitter laugh.

“We were all stunned, Helen. The difference is that all your thoughts were focused on the damn company protocols and not on those of us who were suffering through all that chaos on land.”

“You have no right to reduce my emotions to mere ambition.”

“And you have the right to judge me for a mistake from the past?”

“I never said it was your fault at any point!”

“You didn’t have to, Helen. You always assume I’m a risk before you even bother to look or find out why I made a decision. As if an unforeseen event could be controlled or predicted.”

I press my fingers to my temples, feeling the onset of an excruciating migraine. I’m exhausted. Scared. Upset. Trying to protect a career that I suddenly feel is under threat from a surprise audit, and at the same time, arguing with the only woman who has managed to throw my plans off balance—and who, to make matters worse, is competing with me for the one thing I’ve been chasing for years.

And I have no idea how to handle this situation.

“Last time, there were also… unforeseen circumstances,” I remind her. “And today it almost cost us a disaster.”

Maika tenses, freezing in place. The ghost of what happened materializes in the middle of the room. Her expression changes; anger gives way to exhaustion, to a disappointment I recognize because it’s the same mirror I’ve looked into many nights.

“Don’t make me the only one responsible for what went wrong back then, Helen,” she snaps at me. “I made a mistake, yes. I was afraid of losing my job when I was just starting out at the company. But I never did it to hurt you. My professional life doesn’t revolve around your rank.”

The words cut right through me.

“I didn’t say… And you don’t have a clue about anything either!”

Maika studies me for a second that stretches into infinity. And then, something in her gaze goes out for good.

“You know what? You’re right. I have no idea. Because you never let me get close enough to find out.”

I want to slam the folder down on the table. I want to confess to her that I do care. That when her call came in from Rome and I heard her agitated voice, my whole world shrank to that earpiece. That when I saw her cross the gangway, exhausted but safe, I felt such an unbelievably violent relief that my chest ached. That the position matters to me, yes, it’s my goal, but that she matters to me in a way that isn’t detailed in any maritime ordinance.

But the words won’t come out. They get stuck behind my pride, my rigidity, and that unhealthy need to always appear professional.

Maika gives a final, weak smile and shakes her head.

“You know what I say? Do whatever you want. I don’t feel like arguing with you anymore.”

Maika walks past me without quite brushing against me, opens the door to the conference room, and walks out without looking back.

19

Helen

When I step out of the conference room, I’m not quite sure where my feet are taking me. And for me, that’s a red flag. Because I always know where I’m going. Yet now my feet are moving on their own through the crew’s inner corridors, as if my body had decided to get me away from the officers’ deck before my mind could finish processing what just happened.

“Arturo Valdés. Julianne Ferguson. Supervisors sent in from Marseille. Maika and I, candidates for the same position. Maika leaving the meeting without even looking at me.” Everything is spinning violently inside me, turning each of those certainties into a knot tightening around my ribs.

“Damn it.”

The ship has already set sail from Civitavecchia. Outside, the Tyrrhenian Sea opens up again, indifferent to the chaos we’ve left behind in Rome. A dark, deep, eternal sea, completely unaware that I’ve just lost another battle I didn’t even know I was fighting.

I end up in the crew lounge, a discreet corner hidden deep within the lower decks, far from the passengers’ gaze. There are a couple of tables bolted to the floor, a bulletin board crammed with shift schedules, and notes scribbled in a hurry in three different languages. At this hour, with almost the entire crew deployed at their posts, there’s no one around.

“Perfect. If I’m going to pass out, at least I can do it without witnesses.”

I collapse onto one of the sofas, set the folder with the reports down beside me, and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands are shaking.

I can’t get Maika out of my head. I close my eyes tightly. The last time we sailed together ended in disaster, though for a long time I’ve allowed myself to call only the part that was convenient for me a “disaster.” There were mistakes, of course. Bad decisions, information that didn’t arrive on time, unforeseen events that snowballed until I was left exposed in front of our superiors. But there was also our relationship—the one that erupted suddenly on the high seas, with intensity, and turned into disappointment when Maika chose to remain silent.