Chapter 18
The sky above the Atlantic Ocean was painted in deep indigos and soft purples as the last remainders of sunlight faded into
twilight. Stars began to appear, twinkling like tiny diamonds scattered across the sky, while the nearly full moon cast a
silvery path across the water.
Antonio emerged from the galley below deck and inquired about the meal. “You’ve never had fresher crayfish. My friend TJ caught
them just this morning. He calls them mudbugs. He catches them by hand! He never uses a trap and never gets pinched.”
“Well, tell TJ I’ve had my fair share of mudbugs, and those were the best,” Gemma replied.
Renata cleared away the empty dinner plates and stained newsprint napkins from the table. Antonio disappeared again, but not
before promising a dessert he was sure they would love.
A cool breeze settled over the catamaran, prompting CK, Nell, and Erin to pull their jackets around their shoulders. As the
silence hung in the air, Gemma’s voice broke through, somber and apologetic. “Listen, girls, I’m sorry if I’ve ruined this
beautiful dinner cruise with my marital problems. I had no intention of mentioning Tyler’s affair, especially not this weekend.
Please don’t worry about me. Everything is fine. I’ll figure it out.”
“It was my fault,” Moira added. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about Audria McHenry. Infidelity is never justified.”
Nell, wrapped in a brown cardigan, responded gently, “From a biblical perspective, you have every reason to leave the marriage,
Gemma.”
“I stayed with Phillip for so long because I had no income and feared for my safety. But you’re a successful woman, Gemma.
If you have the chance to leave, then take it. Don’t stay and be his doormat,” Erin advised.
Gemma shook her head slowly, and her voice was heavy with resignation. “I have thought a lot about this, and I have decided
to stay with him until our daughter finishes her senior year of high school. It feels like the right thing to do, at least
until she’s settled into college. Then I’ll consider my options.”
“What do you mean you’ve had a lot of time to think about this? It didn’t just happen recently?” Celia Kate cocked her head.
The ocean breeze had disheveled her sleek ponytail, and stray hairs danced around her face.
“I found out last October,” Gemma answered, embarrassed.
“Nearly a year ago, Gemma?” CK shrieked and leaned into her friend. “You have kept this from me for an entire year?”
“CK,” Moira began. “I’m sure she had her reasons. Give her some grace.”
“Celia Kate, I didn’t—” Gemma began.
CK held up her hand and shook her head in slow disbelief. She was so angry.
“Are you going to let me finish?” Gemma asked while holding down her skirt in the wind.
Celia Kate crossed her arms tightly across her windbreaker and let out a scoff.
“I thought we told each other everything, Gemma. For decades we have shared our lives, our thoughts, our struggles. You call me if you have a stupid ingrown hair, for goodness’ sake!
How could you not tell me that your husband has been having an affair for nearly a year? ”
Gemma looked out at the dark sea, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness. She let out a deep sigh before explaining, “CK, I didn’t
want to burden you with my problems. You’re already a walking bundle of anxiety, and the last thing you needed was to worry
about my crumbling marriage. I haven’t told anyone except my parents. My dad was so upset that he had to increase his blood
pressure medication, and my mom has baked more bundt cakes for me this past year than Nothing Bundt.”
CK furiously gnawed on her fingernails while Gemma continued, “After I found out, I begged him to go to marriage counseling,
hoping it might help us salvage whatever was left of our relationship, but it was a waste of time. After the third or fourth
session, Tyler made it clear that he had no desire to end his affair. He basically told me I could either accept it or leave.
I refuse to accept it, but I’m still sticking around, you know, for Carolina.” She leaned back in the deck chair as her friends
groaned with anger. “I know he’s been with her all weekend while I’m away. Carolina has been with friends, so she isn’t keeping
track of him or what he’s up to.”
“It’s not my business, but is it someone you know, Gemma?” Erin asked as the cool wind whipped through her short dark hair.
Gemma finished off her second cocktail and wryly smiled.
“She works in his office. Rebecca. Becky.” She scoffed.
“Everyone he works with knows about it. I’m a laughingstock.
And you know what?” Gemma threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
“I can’t for the life of me understand what beautiful Becky sees in him. She’s so out of his league.”
Although she was angry with her, CK said, “So are you, Gemma.”
Gemma reached over and grabbed her best friend’s hand before she could chew her thumbnail down to the quick. She gave it a
reassuring squeeze, silently asking if they could make up now. Celia Kate responded with a clasp of her own, confirming that
everything was okay between them.
“You always have been out of Tyler’s league,” Moira agreed, nodding emphatically. “I’m still mad about that crack he made
about the rice at James and Ella’s wedding.”
Gemma released CK’s hand and wiped the tears forming in the corner of her eye. “Seems like we all have our issues. I’m the
big one with the cheating, scumbag husband. Erin is the poor one with the cheating, scumbag ex-husband.”
Erin laughed.
“CK, you’re the paranoid one—just waiting on Armageddon,” Gemma finished.
CK shrugged. “It’s true that I was the only twenty-five-year-old who had a bathtub stocked with bottled water and army rations
for Y2K.”
Gemma pressed on, “How many texts have you sent to your kids this weekend? Is the security camera footage of your house streaming
on your phone right now? Did you tell Sean to measure out the correct cups of cat food?”
CK grunted when she realized she had forgotten to leave specific feeding instructions for Chipper Jones; he was sure to be a diabetic by the time she returned home.
Still, she defended herself. “I see what you’re saying, but it’s an act of love.
It’s a responsibility, to see to it that your people are cared for.
To see to it that everything is running smoothly. ”
“But, CK, if you don’t see to it that everything is running smoothly, then what?” Gemma asked. “What’s the worst that will
happen?”
People will die. CK kept the heavy fear to herself.
It was as if Gemma could hear her best friend’s thoughts as she continued, “What could you have done to prevent your grandmother
from dying? Your mom, CK? What could you have done to stop that ACL from tearing? Nothing.”
The words struck a chord with Nell, and she responded, “I’m the exact same way, CK. I understand that some things happen beyond
my control. I know I can’t live in fear because it’s a liar that robs us of our joy. Still, I battle it every single day.
I worry about my kids and the choices they make. I spent the first ten minutes of the massage today coming up with worst-case
scenarios. I mean, I worried about crepe myrtle disease!” Nell sighed and continued, “I remind myself of God’s Word, that
he is in control. Even in the hardest times, he weaves everything together for the good of those who love him. And still I
find myself overwhelmed with fear rather than embracing my faith. Fear. That is the root of all our issues, isn’t it?”
Moira, who had been silent throughout this discussion while the sweat from her watered-down cocktail soaked into the napkin
in her hand, felt suffocated by her own fears. Instead of sharing them, she resorted to her usual defense mechanism and built
a wall around herself. She snapped, “This is supposed to be my birthday party cruise, not an episode of Dr. Phil. Can we please talk about happier topics for the rest of the trip?” Her plea hung in the sea air, a mix of frustration and a longing for lighthearted conversation, despite her inner turmoil.
“Of course, Moira,” Erin relented just as Antonio and Renata emerged from below deck with dessert: steaming peach cobbler
with a spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream melting on top.
“What better to go with a low-country boil than a low-country dessert, yeah?” Antonio declared while he placed the sweets
on the table.
“Can’t let my blood sugar get too low,” Gemma mumbled as she pulled the small plate closer to her.
CK heard Gemma and said, “Moira, I agree that we should steer the conversation toward happier subjects, but I just have to
say this once more, even if it won’t make a bit of difference.” She looked at Gemma. “Listen to what I’m saying and stop putting
yourself down. You don’t even need Tyler around to make fun of you anymore; you’re doing a great job of that yourself.”
“CK is right,” Nell agreed. “The way you talk about yourself directly influences your mental well-being. Don’t be your own
worst enemy, Gemma.”
“Okay, okay. You ladies know that I cope with humor,” Gemma defended herself, poking her spoon at the soupy, melted ice cream.
“It’s no big deal.”
Nell said, “I don’t know your husband, but from what I’ve heard this weekend, it seems like he comments on your weight not
out of genuine love or concern for your health, but just to be crass.”
“More like just to be a word that rhymes with crass,” CK grumbled. Erin was the only one who heard her and winked at her.
“It’s important to remember, though, that not all advice stems from a negative perspective.
Some people truly care, and I think CK is one of those people,” Nell continued.
She glanced over to Moira, who appeared to be lost in thought, her focus fixed on her dessert and the serene Tybee Island shoreline beyond, seemingly unaware of the deep conversation around her—unaware of a conversation that Nell so desperately wanted to steer toward her specifically.
“I am genuinely worried about you, Gemma,” CK said, her voice soft. “This isn’t about Tyler or what he wants you to look like.
This is about your health. And I’m talking about both your physical and mental health.”
Gemma sighed, her defenses lowering. “I’m not oblivious to the fact that I need to lose weight. I don’t feel good about the
way I look, but more importantly, I don’t feel good period. I’m not offended by your honesty.” She took another bite of her
warm cobbler, savoring the sweet flavor as she contemplated her commitment to making her health a priority. “We can talk more
about this on Monday.” With that, Gemma began to sing off-key, belting out the Jimmy Buffett hit.
Moira had tuned out of the deep conversation, snapping back to reality only when she heard her friends laughing. She noticed
that Nell wanted to share a heartfelt moment, evident by the way she kept glancing in Moira’s direction. However, Moira wasn’t
interested in any cliché Hallmark movie scene. Instead, she turned to Renata, her voice steady, and asked for another cocktail,
ignoring the awkward glances from those around her.
Before the cruise, while sipping dark coffee in her bathroom, Moira promised herself she would not drink any more alcohol that evening.
The setting, however, was too perfect: the warm, gentle breeze; the rhythmic sound of the waves; and the tempting aroma of delicious food.
Now she felt the urge for a drink to boost her spirits amid the therapy session taking place around her.
Gemma noticed the downcast look on Moira’s tired face and said aloud, “Mo, I’m sorry. You asked us to talk about livelier
topics, and we completely ignored you. Let’s shift gears, okay? It’s your birthday celebration, so let’s celebrate, yeah?”
Moira answered with disdain, “Apparently celebrating is frowned upon in this group.”
“What’s that mean?” asked CK.
“Never mind.” Moira pointed to the salon before suggesting, “It’s getting quite chilly on the deck. Let’s move in there and
out of this wind.”
They got up from the dining table and settled into the covered lounge area above the bridge deck. Renata returned with Moira’s
third cocktail of the cruise. As Moira took the drink from Renata’s hand, the waves and her unsteadiness caused some of the
liquid to spill over the top of the glass, splattering onto her black sandals.
They were now closer to Kevin as he navigated the boat back to Allyson Island. They settled into two semicircular settees
and spent a few minutes making small talk with him, inquiring about his background and passion for boats. The moonlight reflected
off the polished deck, creating sparkles that resembled stars.
The night’s heavy discussions of infidelity, addiction, and anxiety were momentarily forgotten when Moira, Gemma, and CK began reminiscing about a weekend fishing trip they had taken in middle school.
They remembered being on that green aluminum boat with Moira’s grandfather, Ernest, who had accidentally fallen into Lake Conasauga while trying to reel in a large-mouth bass.
Once in the water, he dramatically flailed about and tricked the girls into thinking the fish had latched onto his toe in revenge and was trying to pull him under.
Moira recognized his old trick because he had pulled it on her before, but Gemma and CK were completely oblivious.
“Maybe that’s actually where my anxiety was born. We were having a nice, calm fishing trip and suddenly your old pa was overboard and being
attacked by a bass that he convinced us was the size of Jaws.”
The five women’s laughter blended with the soothing sounds of the sea before drifting into the crisp September air.